I opened the front door for her, and she just waltzed her body right in, so quick I could've easily missed it if I'd blinked that second. But I didn't. I hadn't rolled my eyes since I found out about the accident. Since I got that phone call. The one phone call that every parent dreads.

You pick up your phone and it could be anyone. But the one person you wish it will never be is someone telling you your baby is lying around dead somewhere. Your initial reaction isn't shock, or screaming, or crying. It's denial. You deny it over and over…and over again until you see it right there in front of you. The moment you realize it's getting difficult for you to breathe…that's the moment you realize that it was true. That your 12 year-old boy is in fact lying around dead somewhere. And that moment? The moment of realization…it never wears off. You never go past that moment. You carry it with you to the grave.

I shut the door behind me and watched my wife slowly make her way to the kitchen cabinet. Drugs were always her way of coping with…well, anything. But to pop pills in front of your own teenage daughter like that? That's just inacceptable. And yet once again, I let her have it. Because it was one of those days.

Except that it wasn't. I didn't wake up that morning expecting…well, any of this! That I'd be standing in the middle of my living-room watching my 14 year-old daughter crying her eyes out as her mother popped pill after pill after pill.

And then the phone rang again. Interrupting my train of thoughts again. Oh great. Another "I'm so sorry for your loss… my condolences." What a big load. If you're truly sorry for our loss, you wouldn't be bothering us with a phone call. And no, I'm not saying you're welcome to stop by either. Just…be sorry for our loss…from wherever you are. And leave us alone as we try to make sense of it all. Like there's any sense to make of it, anyway.

I hung up my phone, put it on Airplane Mode and tossed it onto the coffee-table. I ran my fingers through Tessa's long chunky blonde hair and slid my way into the kitchen to face my wife. Slowly, I grabbed the prescription box and emptied it into the sink.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She didn't even look like herself.

I whispered, "Helping."

"This isn't helping at all," she sobbed angrily.

"It doesn't seem that way, I know. But in front of Tessa? Really, Hannah? I mean…" I took a deep breath. I had to think of every word I was going to say before I had the balls to say them. "Do you want to talk?"

"Talk? Really?" She whispered, while tears made their way down to her chin. "There shouldn't even be graves in that size!"

With that, she covered her face with her right hand and I slowly realized she was on the verge of a meltdown. I offered to get closer, but she only pushed me further away as she kept tip-toeing back until she reached the fridge. She let her body fall onto the cold metal and allowed her head to lean back onto the gazillion pictures that lay posted onto the refrigerator door. She put her arms down and her shoulders shook up and down while she kept banging her head onto the fridge.

I just stood there, frozen. Then I noticed my daughter standing a few feet to the left, by the door, watching the entire thing. Watching our family fall apart into pieces. Her eyes bawling like a 2 year-old, her body worn out.

Then I saw her run towards the cabinet to grab something, but I beat her to it. She shoved me to the side, nearly sending me off to my knees as she opened the cabinet and frantically knocked off every prescription box on the shelves, desperately searching for something to relieve her from the pain. I got back up and redeemed myself, shutting the cabinet in her face and grabbing her wrists to stop her from punching me and slapping me.

Then she ran to her mother who was still leaning by the fridge, and the two of them embraced in a passionate hug.

I took a deep breath and left the room, slowly making my way up to the master bathroom.

I opened the closet, pulled out the prescription box and opened it.

As I closed the closet, I looked at myself in the mirror. And I found them behind me. Both of them.

I turned around and suddenly could not stop the flow of tears.

"God, I don't know what I'm doing."

So this just came out of nowhere. Tell me if you'd like to read more!