Heavy rain hammered down on my car as I carefully pulled on to the overpass.
The weather was making things treacherous, but I was on my way to a friend’s party and feeling pretty excited.
Suddenly, the car skidded in a pool of water, I lost control and crashed into the guard rail.
It was over in a flash.
Badly shaken but thankfully uninjured, I got out of the car to assess the damage.
Peering down, I realised there was a 25ft drop beyond the guard rail to another road. I’d had a lucky escape.
Another driver pulled over.
‘Are you OK?’ he said.
‘I’m fine, my car isn’t though!’ I replied.
The man directed the oncoming traffic around my car while I called a breakdown service on my phone.
But as I stood there, thanking my lucky stars I was OK, I realised another car was speeding towards me…
It didn’t stop.
Before I could dive out of the way, it ploughed straight into me, sending me flying over the guard rail and hitting the concrete below.
Traffic screeched to a halt as I lay there in deep shock.
Am I paralysed? I thought, trying to move my fingers and toes.
An ambulance arrived, and once I was strapped into a stretcher, pain seared across my body.
‘It’s OK, we’re getting help,’ the paramedic said.
After being blue-lighted to the nearest hospital, I was rushed to the trauma room.
I blacked out.
When I came round, I looked down and gasped in shock.
I was out of my own body, watching the doctors working on me.
Looking into the lobby, I could see my mum and friends waiting. Their faces were etched with anguish and fear.
Terrified and confused, I continued watching as the doctors fought to keep me alive.
I’m only 19, I thought. Surely I can’t die yet.
I wasn’t the only patient they were trying to save that night.
The bed next to me was also surrounded by doctors, and standing at the foot of the bed was another patient watching them work — just like I was!
What was going on?
Suddenly, everything went blank. I opened my eyes and a nurse gently wiped my face.
To my relief, I was back in my own body.
Doctors told me that I’d suffered internal bleeding and organ damage.
My hip, pelvis and three vertebrae were broken, and my tailbone was shattered. I’d need a wheelchair and physio for months, however, I would be able to walk again.
I was so grateful to be alive.
That night, the police came to see me.
They told me that the driver who hit me also smashed into my car and had given a statement.
But while they were talking, I spotted another man sitting at the corner of the ward.
He wore a leather jacket and trousers, like a biker. But his leathers were scuffed up, and his dark brown hair was encrusted with blood, as if he’d been in an accident.
Another patient, I thought.
He was staring right at us, and he looked furious.
Suddenly, he started shouting at the officers.
‘Get out! Get out of here!’ he screamed repeatedly.
But the police ignored him. They didn’t even flinch, as if they couldn’t hear him.
I tried to ignore him too, and guessed that officers were trained not to react to this sort of thing.
Then the nurse asked the police to leave, but it was like she couldn’t see or hear the bloody biker either.
Seconds later, he was gone.
I tried to forget about him, but I couldn’t help feeling there was always a shadow in my room.
He kept returning. Over the next few weeks, I often spotted him walking around among the hospital staff, but no one seemed to realise he was there.
He always looked angry, and shouted for people to get out.
He spoke to me too.
‘Why you, not me? Why did you live when I died?’ he snarled, ‘You don’t deserve
to live.’
Whenever he appeared, I was too scared to respond. But I knew that whoever this man was, he wasn’t alive.
I wondered if
he’d died from a motorbike accident the same night I was brought in.
Was he the person in the bed next to me?
I didn’t dare tell anyone what I could see. I was afraid they wouldn’t believe me.
Months later, I moved to a new hospital, and I hoped that would be the last I saw of the bloody biker.
But as I settled in, he turned up again, glaring at me in the distance.
My heart pounded.
Has this entity attached itself to me?
I realised he only appeared when I was acutely stressed. So I tried to forget about him and focus on my recovery.
Weeks later, I moved back in with Mum as I still needed constant help.
I thought I was finally free of my supernatural stalker, but after a week at home, he suddenly appeared in my bedroom.
Terrified, I let out a piercing scream.
‘Get away from me!’ I screeched.
But he just laughed at me.
The better I got, the angrier he seemed.
Was he jealous?
One day, pictures and ornaments fell to the floor, and Mum and I both heard a sinister laugh.
I was just relieved to have shared the experience with someone else, and that Mum didn’t think I was crazy.
After that, Mum began to read out loud from her bible.
Then one of her friends from the church came over to bless the house.
She asked me questions, told me to make the sign of the cross every night before bed.
She also left a large bottle of holy water which seemed to muzzle the biker, but I could still feel his shadow.
When my friends took me out to the beach in my wheelchair he began to follow.
Another time, he chased me through my local library.
I couldn’t go on like this.
So I began to meditate at home with candles.
Whenever I did, I spoke to the biker.
I told him I was sorry he didn’t survive his accident, but refused to apologise to him for surviving mine.
‘I’m going to move forward with my life,’ I said.
I set strict boundaries, and told him he had to move on too. To my relief, it seemed to work, as I never saw him again after that.
I was able to finish my recovery in peace, and six months after the accident, I could finally walk again.
From then, I decided to devote my life to the paranormal.
I trained as a paranormal investigator, to help others who struggled with hauntings like I did. I also founded the Association of Paranormal Study, as well as my YouTube channel and blog — The Spooky Stuff.
But my experience with the bloody biker never left me.
I wrote a book about the ordeal, and I also spoke about it on the Travel Channel’s Haunted Hospitals TV show.
Even though I haven’t seen him for years, I sometimes feel the biker is still with me. But it’s no longer in a menacing way.
Whoever he was, I hope he’s found peace.
To find out more visit alexmatsuo.com