The delivery guy’s scribbled note sent me rushing to my backyard trash cans, where I discovered something chilling. His cryptic warning may have saved my family from a terrifying fate, but the danger was far from over.
I often order food delivery when I’m too tired to cook for my kids. Over time, we grew close to Ravi, the delivery guy in our area. He’d always chat with Kai and Isla, high-fiving them before leaving. But last Tuesday night was different.
A food delivery man saddling up on his motorcycle | Source: Pexels
When Ravi arrived, he seemed very nervous. Fidgety. He shoved the food into my hands and bolted back to his car without a word.
“What’s up with Ravi?” Kai asked, peering out the window.
I shrugged, watching Ravi’s tail lights disappear down the street. “No idea, buddy. Maybe he’s in a hurry.”
As I brought the food into the kitchen, still puzzled by Ravi’s behavior, I noticed something on the back of the bag. Scrawled in shaky handwriting was a message that made me forget about dinner entirely.
Helpings of fast food laid out on a table | Source: Pexels
“CHECK YOUR TRASH CAN”
I set the food down and turned to my kids. “Hey, why don’t you two go wash up? I’ll get everything ready.”
Once they were out of sight, I bolted to the backyard. The message kept repeating in my head as I approached our trash cans. My hands shook as I lifted the lid of the first one.
A brightly-colored trash can in a backyard | Source: Pexels
Nothing unusual. Just our regular garbage. I moved to the second can, dread building with each step. I threw open the lid and froze.
Inside, wrapped in an old, dirty blanket, was a collection of gloves and what looked like a few small tools. At the bottom sat a bottle without a label, filled with some kind of liquid.
“Mom? Are you okay?” Isla’s voice startled me.
I slammed the lid shut and spun around, forcing a smile. “Yeah, sweetie. Just… checking something. Go on inside, I’ll be right there.”
A woman closing a trash can in a backyard at night | Source: Midjourney
As soon as Isla was gone, I pulled out my phone and dialed the sheriff’s office.
“Sheriff’s Department, this is Leona speaking.”
“Leona, it’s Nora. I need you to come over right away. I found something concerning in my trash.”
“Slow down, Nora. What exactly did you find?”
I described the contents of the trash can, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Don’t touch anything,” Leona said, her tone serious. “I’m on my way. Stay inside with your kids until I get there.”
A police officer on a call in a precinct | Source: Midjourney
I hung up and headed back inside. Our neighborhood had recently experienced a string of break-ins, all with eerily similar methods. Chemicals used to weaken locks, meticulous clean-up of any evidence.
It hit me: my house was being set up for the next break-in.
“Mom, what’s going on?” Kai asked as I entered the kitchen. “You look scared.”
I forced another smile. “Everything’s fine, honey. Let’s eat dinner, okay?”
A woman setting dinner for children at a table | Source: Pexels
We’d barely started eating when there was a knock at the door. I jumped up, but was relieved when I saw Leona through the peephole.
“Kids, stay here and finish your dinner,” I said, stepping outside to talk to Leona.
She listened intently as I recounted finding the items and Ravi’s strange behavior.
“You did the right thing calling me,” Leona said, her eyes scanning the street. “I’ll take a look at what’s in your trash and get it to the lab. In the meantime, I strongly recommend you beef up your security. Also, we’ll patrol the house all night, so in case they re-tool and still try to break in, we’ll nab them red-handed.”
A police officer smiling | Source: Pexels
I nodded, already planning my next move. “I’ll call a security company first thing in the morning.”
Leona placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Try to get some rest, Nora. We’ll figure this out.”
But sleep was the last thing on my mind that night. I spent hours researching security systems, jumping at every little sound outside. By morning, I was a jittery mess of caffeine and anxiety.
A woman working on a laptop computer at night | Source: Pexels
As soon as it hit 8 a.m., I called the first security company on my list. “Hi, I need cameras installed around my house. Today, if possible.”
“Ma’am, our earliest available slot is next week —”
“You don’t understand,” I cut in, my voice cracking. “I think someone’s planning to break into my home. I need those cameras now.”
There must’ve been something in my tone because the receptionist’s voice softened. “Let me see what I can do. Can you hold for a moment?”
A woman on a call in a work environment | Source: Pexels
After what felt like an eternity, she came back on the line. “We’ve had a cancellation. Our team can be there in two hours. Will that work?”
I nearly cried with relief. “Yes, thank you. Thank you so much.”
The next few hours were a blur. I called in sick to work, kept the kids home from school, and paced the house until the security team arrived.
A security camera installed on a wall | Source: Pexels
As they worked, installing cameras and explaining the system to me, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Every car that drove by, every person walking their dog, they all seemed suspicious now.
Just as the security team was finishing up, Leona’s patrol car pulled into my driveway. She got out, her face grim.
“Nora, can we talk inside?”
A parked police patrol vehicle | Source: Pexels
My stomach lurched as I led her into the house. “Kids, why don’t you go play in your rooms for a bit?”
Once they were out of earshot, Leona spoke. “The lab results came back on those items we found. The liquid in the bottle? It’s a powerful corrosive, often used to weaken locks.”
I sank onto the couch, my legs suddenly weak. “So it’s true. They were planning to break in.”
Leona nodded. “It looks that way. But Nora, you’ve done everything right. You’ve got cameras now, you’re aware of the threat. We’re increasing patrols in the area too.”
A policewoman discussing something in a living room | Source: Midjourney
“What about Ravi?” I asked. “Should I talk to him?”
“If you see him, yes. But be careful. We don’t know if he’s involved or just an observant bystander.”
As if on cue, I spotted Ravi pulling up to my neighbor’s house. “He’s here now,” I said, moving to the window.
Leona joined me. “Go talk to him. I’ll watch from here.”
I stepped outside, my pulse racing. Ravi was just getting back onto his bike when he saw me.
A delivery man astride a motorcycle | Source: Pexels
“Hey,” I called out, trying to keep my voice steady. “Got a minute?”
Ravi hesitated, then nodded. As he approached, I could see the tension in his shoulders.
“Look,” he said before I could speak, “I’m sorry about yesterday. I should’ve said something, but I was scared.”
“Scared of what?” I asked, though I had a pretty good idea.
A woman having a conversation with someone in a front yard | Source: Midjourney
Ravi glanced around nervously. “After I parked, I saw these guys messing with your trash. They looked not good, you know? I wanted to warn you, but I was afraid they might still be around.”
I was so relieved. “That’s why you left the note?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry if I freaked you out. I just didn’t know what else to do.”
“Ravi,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “You might have saved my family. Thank you.”
A profile view of a woman talking to someone unseen | Source: Midjourney
His shoulders relaxed a bit. “Really? You’re not mad?”
I shook my head. “Not at all. In fact, I owe you big time.”
As Ravi drove away, I felt grateful but also a little afraid. The threat wasn’t over, but at least now I knew we weren’t facing it alone.
Back inside, Leona was on her phone, talking in hushed tones. She hung up as I approached.
“We’ve got some leads based the description Ravi gave us ,” she said. “We’ll catch these guys, Nora. Just stay vigilant.”
A police officer talking on a mobile phone in a living room | Source: Midjourney
That night, after tucking Kai and Isla into bed, I sat in front of the new security monitors. The cameras showed empty streets and quiet yards, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere out there, someone was watching, waiting for their chance.
I thought about Ravi’s quick thinking, Leona’s dedication, and my own newfound strength. Whatever came next, we’d face it together. For now, all I could do was watch and wait, grateful for the unexpected allies who’d helped keep my family safe.
A woman looking aside thoughtfully | Source: Pexels
What would you have done? If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you about neighbors who installed a camera aimed at a woman’s garden, but she taught them a savage lesson without going to court.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
I Became a Burden to My Father after I Lost the Ability to Walk – Story of the Day
I Became a Burden to My Father after I Lost the Ability to Walk – Story of the Day
I was paralyzed and trapped in a wheelchair in an accident, and my father refused to be burdened with me. But then he gets taught an important lesson.
I was 19 when I was run over by a car on my way to work. For me, it was the end of the world: a screech of tires, darkness, and pain. And when I woke up, I heard the voices say I’d never walk again.
I kept asking for my father, but he only showed up three days later, looking the worse for the wear and I knew he’d been on a bender while I’d lain there fighting for my life.
She was injured in a horrible accident | Source: Shutterstock.com
My mother died when I was 12, a victim of breast cancer. I remember her as a sweet, weary woman, always cringing from my father’s cruel words, working to keep food on the table while he drank his paycheck away.
As soon as I turned 14, he ordered me to find a part-time job to help with the bills, and when I was 16, I dropped out of school and started working full time to support myself — and him.
But when my father finally arrived at the hospital to visit me, there was neither compassion nor gratitude in his eyes. The doctor explained that although my spine was not severed there had been severe bruising and compression.
I might — by a long shot — recover my ability to walk, but most likely, I would be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life. And that was when my father walked away. He said to the doctor, “She’s over 18, isn’t she? She’s an adult, right? So she’s not my responsibility anymore. You take her.”
My father was an alcoholic | Source: Unsplash
I remember my doctor’s horrified expression and my father’s gaze sweeping over my limp legs. “Useless! Useless like your mother!”
Those were the last words I’d hear from him for the next six years. A little while later I was transferred to a recovery center where I was lucky enough to be assigned to a therapist named Carol Hanson.
Family is built on love, not a biological bond, or shared DNA.
She was an older, motherly woman who immediately took me under her wing. Carol was as loving as she was demanding, and she was very demanding. Over the next year, she pushed me towards a recovery I’d never dreamed possible.
The day I stood on my own two feet and took my first step, I cried like a baby, and so did Carol. It was only the beginning, and the next few months I worked even harder, but finally was pronounced healthy.
I woke to discover I was paralyzed | Source: Unsplash
It was a bittersweet moment for me. I was healed from my injury and I was walking again, but I was terrified. I had nowhere to go, no family. I was all alone in the world.
Carol walked in and found me crying. She sat beside me on the bed and put her arms around me. “Jenny,” she said to me, “it’s all right to be scared. You’re starting your life again.”
“I have no one, and nowhere to go,” I whispered, remembering other patients leaving surrounded by loving family, “I’m alone.”
“No you’re not,” Carol said firmly, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Would you like to move in with me? Just until you get your life together again…”
I was stuck in a wheelchair | Source: Unsplash
So I did, and it was lovely. Carol and I got on beautifully, and she gave me my own room, a pretty room, the prettiest I’d ever seen. “It was my daughter’s,” Carol explained with tears in her eyes. “I lost her like you lost your mother.”
I started googling for jobs the next day on Carol’s computer, but when I came down to breakfast there were some informative flyers on the table from the local high school announcing night classes for adults wanting to complete their secondary education.
“I think,” said Carol firmly, “that you need to go back to school so you can go back to college.”
My mouth dropped open. “College? I can’t afford college!” I gasped. “Carol, I don’t have a cent to my name and no way to support myself if I don’t get a job, and quickly.”
The physiotherapist helped me heal | Source: Pexels
Carol shook her head: “No, Jenny, you can’t afford NOT to go to college. Listen, I will lend you the money, and when you graduate, you pay me back — just like a student loan with a bank.”
Anyway, she talked me into it, and I quickly completed the high school certification I needed and applied to the local college. I’ll admit Carol’s example inspired me to become a nurse, and four years later, I graduated summa cum laude.
I started working at a local hospital and ended up specializing in neo-natal care. One day, a TV crew came in to do a news story on a set of identical triplets and ended up interviewing me.
For a while, I was a bit of a celebrity, but the attention brought me an unwanted visitor. The doorbell rang and when I opened it, I was stunned to see my father standing there.
I became a nurse | Source: Pixabay
He looked terrible, like a bum, and he reeked of alcohol and sweat. “Jenny, my sweet baby girl!” he cried, reaching out his hands. “I’ve finally found you again.”
“Found me again?” I asked sharply, “You abandoned me in the hospital because I was useless, remember, like my mother?”
He squeezed out a few tears. “Oh my baby,” he sobbed. “Forgive me, I was frightened and in shock… You won’t turn your dad away now, would you? I haven’t been well…”
“You look fine to me,” I told him coldly, but my trained eye had already noted the yellow tinge to his skin and eyes. He had some kind of liver disorder, probably due to his drinking.
An unexpected visitor | Source: Pixabay
He shuffled forward. “I’m sick, Jenny, daddy really needs you…And…” he licked his lips thirstily. “And I’m broke, baby, no money for food…You’re not going to let your daddy go hungry, are you?”
“Like you left me to my fate? Helpless in a wheelchair? Guess what ‘DADDY,’ I am. Get out.” I slammed the door in his face and walked back into the lounge.
Carol looked up at me and smiled. “Who was that, Jenny?”
“Oh, just some man selling something!” I went to the sofa, sat down beside Carol, and hugged her fiercely. Carol hugged me back.
Carol adopted me | Source: Pexels
“Jenny,” she said, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. Would you allow me to adopt you? Become your mother? Because in my heart you already are my daughter.”
I started crying and I just couldn’t stop. I had been cursed with a terrible childhood, and now as an adult, I had been lucky enough to find a loving home and a parent who cherished me.
What can we learn from this story?
1. Family is built on love, not a biological bond, or shared DNA.
2. What you give is what you get, as Jenny’s father discovered.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a beautiful socialite who humiliates an old friend and ends up regretting it.
This account is inspired by our reader’s story but written by a professional writer. All names have been changed to protect identities and ensure privacy. Share your story with us, maybe it will change someone’s life.
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