It had started with a twinge of pain which ultimately led to another surgery: he had control this time, there wasn’t the usual sloppiness. He had it under control, his demon, he couldn’t let his kids see him like this. He had to be their Dad not a junkie; but that particular he had been weak. He looked at himself in the mirror, popped another pill; he lost track at how many he had taken that day.

Matthew knew it was one too many, when his legs gave out, he slumped to the ground and landed against the bathroom door. The smell of vomit fills his nose, he thinks it’s his own. The door nudges him forward and he can see his little boy looking down at him, “Mommy, Mommy!” He starts to scream. “Mommy something is wrong with Daddy!”

Matthew kind of wishes he was dead now, better than having to look his son in the eye after this.