I Went Too Deep Into the Dark Web and Found Something That Still Haunts Me

Look, I know what you're thinking. Another fake dark web story, right? Trust me, I wish this was made up. I wish I could go back to three months ago when I was just another bored college student scrolling Reddit at 2 AM.

But I can't. And now I'm writing this because I need someone to know what happened. Maybe it'll help me sleep better. Maybe not.

It Started With a Dare

My roommate Jake was always into weird internet stuff. Not illegal stuff – just the strange corners of the web where people posted conspiracy theories and urban legends. One night, he dared me to check out the dark web.

"Come on, Sarah," he said. "Everyone talks about it, but nobody actually goes there. What's the worst that could happen?"

Famous last words.

I downloaded Tor that same night. Took me forever to figure out how to use it properly. The internet was slow as hell, and most sites looked like they were built in 1995. Honestly, it was boring at first.

I found some forums about random stuff. People selling fake IDs. Others talking about drugs. Nothing too crazy. I started thinking the dark web was just overhyped nonsense.

Then I found the Red Room links.

The First Red Room

For those who don't know, Red Rooms are supposedly live streams where people get tortured or killed for money. Most people say they're fake. Urban legends. I thought so too.

The first link I clicked was dead. The second one asked for Bitcoin payment. The third one... well, the third one worked.

The page was simple. Black background. Red text. A chat box on the side where usernames kept popping up. Things like "DeathWatcher47" and "PainLover666." Real charming crowd.

In the center was a video player. It showed a dark room with a single chair under a spotlight. Empty.

The chat was going crazy:

"When does it start?"

"I paid 50 bucks for this better be good"

"Last week's was amazing"

I should've closed the browser right then. Should've deleted Tor and pretended I never saw any of it. But curiosity is a hell of a drug.

At exactly midnight, someone walked into the frame.

What I Saw Changed Everything

The person wore a black hood. Couldn't tell if it was a man or woman. They dragged someone else into the room. The victim was tied up, blindfolded, mouth taped shut.

The chat exploded with excitement. People were sending money through some cryptocurrency system. The more money sent, the worse things got for the victim.

I won't describe what happened next. I can't. Even thinking about it makes me sick. But I watched for twenty minutes before I finally snapped out of it and slammed my laptop shut.

I threw up twice that night. Didn't sleep for three days.

I Should've Stopped There

Any normal person would've stopped. Would've reported it to the FBI or something. But I kept thinking about what I saw. It felt surreal. Like a movie with really good special effects.

Maybe it was fake after all. Maybe I was overreacting.

Two weeks later, I went back.

Same site. Same setup. Different victim.

This time I noticed something that made my blood freeze. In the corner of the room, barely visible in the shadows, was a calendar on the wall. I could make out the date.

It was yesterday's date.

This wasn't some old recording. This was happening live. Right now. Somewhere in the world.

The Chat Noticed Me

I was being more active in the chat this time. Asking questions like "Is this real?" and "Where is this happening?" Most people ignored me or called me names.

But one user private messaged me. Username: TheWatcher93.

"First time here, Sarah_M?"

My username was Sarah_M. But how did they know it was my first time?

"You seem nervous," they continued. "Don't worry. We were all scared at first."

"This isn't real, right?" I typed back. "It's just special effects?"

"Oh, it's very real. Want to see something that'll prove it?"

Before I could respond, they sent me another link.

The Proof

The new link took me to a different site. This one looked like a news website, but all the articles were about missing persons. Recent missing persons.

TheWatcher93 sent me photos from the Red Room streams. Then photos from the missing person reports.

Same faces.

Same people.

I counted twelve matches before I had to stop looking.

"Now you understand," TheWatcher93 messaged. "This is real. And now that you know, you're part of it."

"What do you mean?" I typed with shaking hands.

"Everyone who watches becomes an accessory. Everyone who pays becomes a participant. And everyone who tries to leave..."

They never finished that sentence.

I Tried to Get Help

The next morning, I went to the campus police. Told them everything. The officer looked at me like I was crazy.

"Miss, we get reports about dark web stuff all the time," he said. "Ninety-nine percent of it is fake. And even if it was real, there's nothing we can do. These sites are probably overseas."

I tried calling the FBI tip line. Got transferred three times before someone told me to submit a report online.

I filled out the online form. Never heard back.

Nobody would take me seriously.

Things Got Personal

A week after I talked to the police, strange things started happening.

I got a package at my dorm. No return address. Inside was a printed photo of me walking to class, taken from across the street. On the back, someone had written: "We see you."

My laptop got hacked. All my files were deleted except for one new folder on my desktop labeled "Welcome to the Show."

Inside the folder was a video file.

It was security camera footage of me in my dorm room. From an angle that meant the camera had to be inside my room. I checked everywhere but couldn't find it.

The worst part? The timestamp on the video was from that morning. They were watching me in real time.

TheWatcher93 Came Back

"Having trouble sleeping?" was the first message I got from them.

"What do you want from me?" I replied.

"Nothing much. Just want you to understand the rules. Rule one: you don't talk to police anymore. Rule two: you don't try to expose us. Rule three: you keep watching."

"And if I don't?"

They sent me a photo. It was my little sister Emma, walking out of her high school three states away.

"Your sister looks sweet," they typed. "Would hate for her to star in next week's show."

I've never felt terror like that before. Pure, ice-cold fear that froze my entire body.

I Had No Choice

For the next month, I watched every stream. TheWatcher93 would message me each time, making sure I was there. Making sure I was participating.

The streams got worse. More violent. More creative in their cruelty.

And the viewers were loving it. The chat was always full of praise and requests for specific acts of violence. These weren't just random psychos – they were organized. They had favorites. They had inside jokes.

They were a community.

The worst part? I started recognizing usernames. People I'd been chatting with for weeks. We'd talk about normal stuff – movies, food, weather. Then we'd watch someone get tortured to death together.

It was surreal. Like living in two different worlds at the same time.

The Breaking Point

Everything changed during the Halloween stream.

The victim that night was a young woman. Couldn't have been older than twenty. She looked terrified but kept trying to be brave.

The hooded figure was taking requests from the chat, doing horrible things for money. The donations were pouring in faster than ever.

Then I saw her face clearly for the first time.

It was Emma. My little sister.

I screamed so loud my roommate came running. I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Just pointed at the screen.

But Jake couldn't see what I was seeing. To him, it was just a black screen with an error message.

"Sarah, what's wrong? There's nothing there."

I looked back at my screen. He was right. Just an error message that said "Connection Lost."

But in the chat, TheWatcher93 had sent me a final message:

"Thanks for playing along, Sarah. Your sister is safe. For now. But remember – we're always watching. And we know where to find you."

The Aftermath

That was two months ago. I changed schools. Moved back home. Threw away my laptop and bought a new one.

I check on Emma every day. Call her, text her, make sure she's okay. She thinks I'm being overprotective, but I can't tell her why.

Sometimes I wonder if any of it was real. Maybe the whole thing was an elaborate prank. Maybe TheWatcher93 was just messing with my head.

But then I remember the photos. The hacked laptop. The security footage from inside my room.

And I remember the faces of those missing people.

Why I'm Telling You This

I'm writing this story because I need people to know what's out there. The dark web isn't just a place to buy drugs or fake documents. There are corners of it that are genuinely evil.

Places where human suffering is entertainment.

Places where your curiosity can trap you forever.

I still get messages sometimes. Different usernames, but I know it's them. Usually just photos of me going about my daily life. A reminder that they're still watching.

The police still won't help. My family thinks I had a mental breakdown. My friends think I'm paranoid.

But I know what I saw. And I know they're still out there, running their shows, hurting innocent people while viewers pay to watch.

Maybe sharing this story will help someone else avoid making my mistake. Maybe it'll help the authorities take this stuff more seriously.

Or maybe it'll just make things worse for me.

TheWatcher93, if you're reading this – I kept your rules for two months. I never talked to police again. I never tried to expose you directly.

But I can't stay silent forever.

Some things are too important to keep secret.

Even if it costs me everything.

Sarah M. is a pseudonym. She currently lives in an undisclosed location and asked that no identifying details be included in this story. If you have information about similar dark web activities, please contact the FBI's Internet Crime Complaint Center.