-jbd-202- I Was Tied Up By My My Neighbor Hana Apr 2026

Today, she asked me to write this. “Document your experience,” she said. “Be honest. For the record.”

Over the past two days, I’ve learned a few things. She’s done this before. The notebook is filled with names, dates, and entries labeled “JBD” — her personal case files. She calls herself a “collector.” Not of things. Of people. Of their fears. -JBD-202- I Was Tied Up By My My Neighbor Hana

Hana lived two doors down. Quiet. Kept her lawn neat. Waved sometimes when I took out the trash. We exchanged polite nods at the mailbox. I thought I knew her — the way you think you know a neighbor. Harmless. Maybe a little lonely. Today, she asked me to write this

She doesn’t yell. She doesn’t hit. She just asks questions. Endless questions. What keeps you up at night? What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done? Who would miss you if you disappeared? For the record

Yesterday, she brought me a sandwich and a glass of water. She untied one of my hands to let me eat. I thought about grabbing her, but her eyes — flat, calm, patient — told me she’d already planned for that. There was a knife in her lap. Not a threat. A fact.

And every few hours, she tightens the ropes.