Your father had been sober for 100 days. You had no suspicions of him relapsing, he was a strong, military man. He taught discipline in others.

Entering the bathroom, in the reflection of the mirror, you see John holding a spoon above a hot flame. A brown liquid bubbled on the metal surface.

His eyes suddenly darted up into the mirror, he dropped the spoon and turned to face you.

“It’s- it’s not what you think, sunshine,” he pleaded, holding onto the door. The inside of his elbow was raw.