What began as a desperate way to survive has now turned into a living nightmare.
For years, my husband had a dark secret ,one he kept hidden from everyone, including me. Whenever he came across accident scenes on the side of the road, especially at night, he would stop. Not to help. Not to call for assistance. But to take.
Wallets. Phones. Jewelry. Anything of value left behind by the deceased.
At the time, he justified it. He said the dead no longer needed these things. He convinced himself it wasn’t harming anyone. But some things, we’ve come to learn, should never be touched.
It started slowly.
He began waking up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, his eyes wide with terror. At first, he said it was just bad dreams. But the nightmares became more vivid, more real. He described seeing people standing at the foot of our bed—silent, staring, sometimes covered in blood. People he claimed to recognize from the accident scenes.
Then came the voices.Whispers in the dark, calling his name. Some nights he would scream, begging them to leave him alone. Other nights, he would sit upright in bed, as if listening to someone I couldn’t see.
Sleep became impossible. Fear took over our home.
His behavior changed too. He became withdrawn, anxious, and constantly looking over his shoulder. He refuses to drive at night now. He says the roads feel “crowded,” even when they’re empty.
Desperate for answers, we spoke to elders and even sought spiritual guidance. Some believe the spirits of the dead are restless, angered by what was taken from them. Others say guilt has finally caught up with him, manifesting in ways his mind cannot escape.
Whatever the truth may be, one thing is certain he is no longer the same man.
And as I lie awake beside him each night, listening to his restless breathing and sudden cries, I can’t help but wonder…
Did he bring something back with him from those roads?
Or is this the price he must pay for disturbing the dead?
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