When I was in college, there was this guy who was really into me. I only liked him as a friend. I hadn’t had a computer in my house growing up, so I didn’t have any clue how to operate the new Mac sitting on my dorm room desk. This guy showed me how to do everything. I didn’t know you could install more software that you could download off the internet. I didn’t know that you could choose your own desktop image and that it could be about Star Trek! (Um, you can see why I might have been attracting nerdy guys.)
Some months into our friendship, I was learning more about computers and started poking around my hard drive. I found a text file that contained the text of all the emails (and school papers, and everything) I’d been typing over the last several days. I had made some new, even nerdier friends, so I asked some people about the file. It turned out that my “friend” had installed a keystroke recorder on my computer, and had changed some settings on my machine so he could access all my files remotely. So basically, this guy was reading everything I typed.
I confronted him about this (I was young, and it did not occur to me to go to a dean, or even the police). The order of the story gets fuzzy here. My “friend” admitted having installed a keystroke recorder. He also insisted that he loved me and that if I didn’t love him back, he would die. Then we all went home for winter break.
When we returned from winter break, my “friend” had lost a lot of weight, more than anyone should lose in 3 weeks. He was shivering, his hair was falling out. He was actually starving himself “for love.” Because I was about 19 years old, it did not occur to me to do anything that makes sense (like tell a trained professional) until very late in the game. All kinds of unnecessary hijinks occurred. I actually went to his dorm room to try to convince him that he had a reason to live! And that his body type was not important!
Around this point, I also found myself in a situation in which I was concerned that, if I didn’t do the exact right thing, someone would kill themself.
Finally, I did go talk to a dean. The university went on high alert. Action was taken. I don’t know what that action was, which seems appropriate. Presumably the guy got some kind of help. He also ended up transferring to another university.
My point? You haven’t done anything wrong, and adults want to help you.