My mother and i were stalked

when I was between the ages of 3 and 10, I would frequently stay with my homeless mother even though I had technically lived with my grandma from the day I was born.
She would pick me up and we would walk all around town, sometimes walking for over a couple of hours. On the weekends when I didn’t have school, I’d even stay the night with her in her tent.
She had a small tent behind this run-down church, and the owner didn’t mind because she knew him. The tent was in a very large field with a bunch of weeds, at least 4 feet high
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The first night I ever had an unsettling experience with this “man” was when I was around 6. If I’m being honest, this memory is really fuzzy to me, so I’ll try to be as consistent as possible.
All I remember was waking up really late at night beside my sleeping mother. I was quite small—all I could really see without looking around was the side of my mom.
I eventually remember sitting up and rubbing my eyes before laying back down. This is where it gets fuzzy, but what I vividly remember is that, for whatever reason, I lifted my head up toward the entrance of the tent and saw a head poking through the small entrance, which should have been zipped up.
I was really confused more than scared. I wondered if it was my dad, who would sometimes try to find me and my mom. This is the thing that really stuck with me: the head seemingly got bigger and bigger until I remember his whole torso being in the tent.
He was just 5 feet away from me and my mom, but I still couldn’t see his face.
I don’t remember anything afterwards besides waking up in the morning and telling my mom, only for her not to believe me.
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The next day was pretty terrifying, if I do say so myself. It was daytime outside, and my mom was holding my hand while talking to the owner of the church.
She was in the doorway and I was behind her, standing outside of the church. I looked over to our broken-down car, where we usually kept stuff and occasionally slept, and I saw a man searching through our car. I kept tapping my mom’s arm and telling her there’s a guy in our car, but she didn’t look. I started to shout.
Her and the church owner came outside and yelled at him. He stopped looking in the car and faced us. We saw he had a hatchet in his hand. For whatever reason, he didn’t attack us—he simply walked away while flipping the hatchet.
You could put two and two together and reasonably say this might be the same man who came into our tent that night.
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Some time after all of this, me and my mom slept in some RV. I’d be lying if I said I know whether she owned the RV or if it was someone else’s that let her use it—I truly can’t remember.
It was around the time when the sun had gone down for the most part, but the moon hadn’t come out yet. It was super gray outside rather than pitch black. All I remember was sitting on a small bed with a fairly large window to my left. I was laying down and on my mom’s phone when something tapped against the window. I put the phone down and rolled over to look up.
There was a man’s face pressed against the glass, smiling. It looked as if his face was forcefully pressed against it. He kept switching expressions from a smile to a frown and so on, as if he was trying to make a baby laugh. I do remember some guy’s voice asking the man, “What the fuck are you doing, bro?” that I now assume my mom knew. The man walked away.
That time I saw the man’s face clearly. It matched the same man who looked through our car with the hatchet. He was a small Hispanic man with really dirty clothes and skin.
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The last thing I recall of this man was a few months after the previous incident. We were in the same tent in the same spot again. This time it was dark but not that late, so my mom was awake on her phone.
There was something sharp being dragged along our tent. And after that there was what felt like hours of footsteps around our tent. All I remember after this was a moment of silence and then loud arguing and shouting.
Eventually my mom ran out of the tent and everything got silent a couple minutes later. I learned just a couple years ago that my dad had been at the church eating when he saw the man walking around the tent. He said he didn’t think much of it until the owner asked him if that man knew my mom and his son (me). That’s when he was informed that it was our tent, and he went out and started to push and wrestle the man away.
—
Honestly, I have no clue who that man was or where he is now. I remember being told his name by my dad, but I can’t really remember it.