Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - I Helped My Best Friend Cover Up a Hit-and-Run, and It’s Destroying Me #5

Episode Date: July 10, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #guilt #hitandrun #darksecrets #friendship #confession  This story explores the heavy burden of complicity, the struggle to keep dark secrets hidden, and how protecting someone you love can sometimes lead to devastating consequences. The narrator reveals the psychological destruction caused by living with guilt and fear of exposure.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, guilt, crime, coverup, friendship, secrets, confession, emotionalturmoil, trauma, justice, moralconflict, fear, suspense, darktruth, consequences

All right, so here goes nothing. I'm 28 years old, and for the past few months, I've been dragging around this massive secret that's been chewing at my insides. It's one of those things you wish you could forget, buried deep down and pretend it never happened, but no matter what I do, it just won't go away. So, I figured maybe writing it all out might help me make sense of it. Or maybe I'm just hoping someone out there will tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do next. My best friend, Jake, who's 29, got himself into a mess a few months ago. And when I say a mess, I mean the kind of thing you see in crime documentaries and never imagine happening in real life.

It was late at night and he was driving home after a rough day. His dad had just passed away a few weeks before, and he was barely hanging on at work. I'd never seen him that emotionally wrecked, honestly. And then it happened. He hit someone. Not on purpose, obviously. But it was dark, the road was empty, and out of nowhere, this girl just stepped out in front of his car. He didn't even have time to hit the brakes. He said she looked like a shadow until it was too late. He freaked out. And I don't mean your standard panic attack. I mean full-on breakdown. Instead of stopping, calling the cops,

or checking on her, he sped off like a bat out of hell. He called me maybe ten minutes later, voice shaking, words all over the place. I could barely make out what he was saying. I rushed over to his place, and he was just, broken. Sitting on the floor, hands covered in sweat, pupils dilated. I asked him over and over what happened, and when he told me, I swear my blood ran cold. Now, I know what you're thinking. Call them. The cops. Do the right thing. But it wasn't that simple. Jake had already been teetering on the edge. Losing his dad crushed him. His job was hanging by a thread. He was this close to losing his apartment. He was barely holding it together, and now this? In my head, I thought I was being a good friend. I didn't want to see him locked up for something that wasn't entirely his fault. The girl had walked right into the the road, no warning. It felt unfair. And yeah, I know how that sounds. Like I was making excuses. Maybe I was. I don't know anymore. So instead of going to the police, I helped him.

I actually helped him cover it up. God, even writing that feels wrong. We went out to where it happened, and she was already gone. Someone must have called an ambulance. There was blood on the road, bits of glass from the headlights, a piece of fabric. We cleaned up what we could. Then we took his car and drove it two towns over to this sketchy junkyard Jake knew from his cousin. Paid a guy cash to get rid of it. That was that. Or so we thought. At first, I convinced myself we'd done what we had to do. That maybe the girl would be fine, maybe no one would ever figure out who hit her. Maybe it would all blow over, and Jake could just keep on living. But, maybe, doesn't keep the guilt away. A few days later, the news broke. A 24-year-old woman had

been hit by a vehicle in the early hours of the morning. She was in critical condition, and the police were searching for the driver. Seeing her face on TV hit different. It wasn't just a story anymore. It was real. She had a name, Alyssa. She had a family, a job, friends. She wasn't just some shadow in the road, she was a human being. I started losing sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the accident.

And I wasn't even there. I just pictured it over and over, like some kind of horror reel stuck on loop. Jake tried to pretend everything was okay, but I could see it tearing him apart, too. He'd call me at random hours, just to say he couldn't stop thinking about it. Sometimes he'd cry, other times he'd just sit in silence on the other end of the line. One night, he told me he was thinking about turning himself in, said he couldn't live with himself knowing what he'd done. I didn't know what to say. What do you say to that? Part of me wanted him to do it. I mean, it was the right thing, wasn't it? He hit someone.

He ran. He lied. And I helped him lie. But the other part of me, the part that still sees him as my best friend since we were 12, wanted to stop him. I kept imagining him sitting in a cell, rotting away, and thinking about how I might have pushed him there. The guilt started to eat away at me, and not just about Alyssa. About everything. I lied to my girlfriend. I lied to my family. Every time someone talked about the hit-and-run, I had to pretend I didn't know anything. I felt like a coward. A liar. A fraud. I started looking up articles about her. Alyssa. She worked at a coffee shop downtown.

Was saving up to go back to school. Her parents had started a go-fund me to help with medical bills. I donated anonymously. I don't even know why. Maybe to make myself feel better. Spoiler, it didn't help. The worst part. She survived.

But she's not okay. She's got brain damage, limited mobility, and might never walk again without assistance. Her life is changed forever. And I'm partly responsible. Jake's a wreck. He barely leaves his apartment. He lost his job. He's drinking more.

He's not the same guy anymore. And honestly, I'm not the same either. This thing has changed both of us. I'm constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for the knock on the door. Wondering if today is the day someone finds out. Sometimes I think about just going to the police myself. Telling them everything. Laying it all out.

The car, the cover up, the lies. Maybe if I do it, Jake will follow. Or maybe he'll hate me forever. Maybe we both go down. Maybe I deserve it. But then I remember those late nights. The tears. The pain in Jake's voice. And I wonder if turning us in would just make things worse. Would it help Alyssa? Or would it just be punishment for the sake of punishment. I keep having this nightmare. I'm standing in court and Alyssa's family is there. They're looking right at me, and I can't say anything. I open my mouth, but no words come out. They just stare, broken, waiting for me to explain why I helped their daughter's life get torn apart.

And I have no answer. That's the thing no one tells you about guilt. It doesn't scream. It whispers. It's always there, in the background, nudging you. Whispering reminders. Reminding you of what you did. What you didn't do. So yeah, I'm stuck. On one hand, I want to believe I was being loyal. A good friend.

That I helped someone I love when he was at his lowest. But on the other hand, I know I hurt someone else in the process. And that truth, that ugly, heavy truth, won't let me go. Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror and wonder who I even am anymore. Am I still the guy who always tried to do the right thing? Or did I cross a line I can't uncross? I'm not asking for sympathy. I know I probably don't deserve it.

I just need to know what you would do. If you were in my shoes, if your best friend called you in the middle of the night, scared out of his mind, asking for help, would you have done the same? Am I a monster for helping him? Or am I just a flawed human who made a terrible call in a moment of panic? Should I go to the police? Tell them everything. Or should I keep this secret buried and try to live with the consequences?

I don't have the answers. But maybe someone out there does. Maybe someone reading this knows what it's like to carry something this heavy and still try to keep walking. I just needed to get it off my chest. Maybe that selfish. But it's all I've got. Thanks for listening, whoever you are. The end.