“Daddy, Daddy! Wake up!” a little girl whimpered over him, her warm tears falling into his nose and mouth. Wiping at his face, Jack opened his eyes to see his surroundings. His youngest daughter, Jessie, wrapped her small arms around his chest, her face buried in the blue hospital gown.

Jack rubbed his head against her’s, feeling the heat and love reverberating off of her. He muttered consolation in her tiny pink ears. For a second, Jack’s love for his daughter blocked out everything else; all of his surroundings, emotions, and conflicts.

Then, he looked up and a rush of reality hit him like a cold, salty wave. His older daughter, Samantha, slumped in a small armchair, twirling her black hair, glaring at him. The amount of disgust in her sea-green eyes was unfathomable. Jack’s stomach flopped and he was filled with shame and regret.

Dr. Hershall stepped into the small white-washed room, a grim look on his face. Jack gulped.

He had relapsed, and overdosed, again.