It was several years ago, when I, 9 yo, was in the passengers seat while my dad drove. It was early morning and we were in the interstate. There was a lot of fog and the visibility was kinda making hard to see what was before us. I suppose these things can cause accidents. It wasn’t until the fog cleared up that we began to slow down as traffic was pretty bad. I remember looking out the window and seeing the body of a young boy lying in a kneeling position on the 5 ft wide divider. He was clearly dying. Even I, a kid then, could see that. It wasn’t like he was praying or anything. But his facial expression was vacant and he’d clearly been hit by another car and I remember the blood pooled around under him. I asked my dad to stop that we might help the kid but he refused. I couldn’t believe it. My dad was kinda paranoid about everything back then. He always believed any act could lead to some sort of trouble. By the time I was begging him again we had already passed the boy. The memories after that are fuzzy, but I do remember feeling so horrible. I’m 24 now, it still haunts me now and then. Perhaps if I had done more to help that kid. No one else helped him but still I don’t think it resolved me of my inaction. I was just a kid but I blamed myself ever since.