Work used to be the most important thing to John, always putting his duties first. When his son was born, he realized there's more to enjoy.

The boy was the sparkle of joy in his life, lively, playful. The brightest little boy he knew. John just doesn't know at what point this boy lost his shine, falling into depression, and subsequently, into drugs.

It's an endless cycle. Rehab always ends in relapse, nearly all of their conversations end in fights. The stress, the worry, the broken trust, leaving John feeling unable to help, with his hands tied.

Once again, his son crossed the line, having overdosed a few days ago. The last few days had been a mess, rushing to the hospital, the smell of sterile equipment still lingering in his nostrils. The memory of seeing his son lying on a hospital gurney again after almost dying, stuck in the mind of a tired father. Now, he craddles his boy in his arms, stroking his messy hair, grateful to at least still have him.