It was a normal day; my dad had just gotten out of jail almost 2 weeks prior to the incident. In New Carlisle they have a ball dropping for New years and we had all planned as a family to go watch the ball drop at 12. People say addiction is a disease, I say it’s an option. Finally, around 11:00pm he come home. I promise you that wasn’t my dad. That wasn’t the same man who taught me how to ride a bike or catch a ball. That wasn’t the same man who taught me how to hunt and fish. No, that person was a monster. I will never forget the day I seen him walking through the door. He looked as if he hadn’t slept for days, weeks maybe. His eyes were barely open. Everything he said was either a slur or mumble. He couldn’t even stand straight and every time he’d stand still his eyes would close and his knees would begin to buckle and he would slowly start falling to the ground. After a minute he’d catch himself and start talking again. He used stupid excuses as to why he was acting the way he was. He said “I was working all day” and “I barely slept last night”. No one believed him. My grandma cried in despair of the person who was once her son. My aunt and uncle rushed up to my grandmas as fast as possible only to find loud commotion coming from inside of the house. “Karl…Karlee...” he said with his head nodding back and forth and eyes rolling back into his head. My little sister, only 8 years old, ran into the kitchen. It hurt my heart and knotted my stomach to see her seeing our father like that. “Your…You’re coming with me” he said in a mumble. At that moment my grandma began rushing into the kitchen as my dad took my sister to the car. She went out the door to try and stop him. As his friend Danny began to pull out of the drive way, she walked with the same pace as the car beating on the windshield crying and screaming out “Give me my grandbaby, she doesn’t need to be in the same car as you or Danny, Tj” My dad claimed to have talked to my mom and he said my mom said he could take her but I knew just as well as he did that he never talked to her. See my mom’s not dumb, my mom is one of the smartest woman I know, and she knows when my dad is high. I rushed around looking for my phone to call my mom but by the time I got a hold of her he was gone. At that exact moment I felt as if I was suffocating in fear and blame. If only I would not have let him take her or even if I would have found my phone in time. I couldn’t feel better until I knew she was safe and out of that car. So many things could have happened, my dad’s friend could have nodded out while driving, they could have wrecked and that could have killed her. Don’t get me wrong, my dad loves me and my sisters, he wouldn’t intentionality hurt us. He just doesn’t get that his action affect us too. I blowed my dad’s phone up to check on my sister and got no response. We went up to see the ball drop and when we got home my grandma fell in the bathroom. I tried calling my dad again. No answer. My little cousin called his dad (my uncle) and he rushed up to the house. I texted my dad and told him something was wrong with my grandma (his mom) and he called right away. I explained to him what happened and finally I let it all out. I remembered un filtering every one of my emotions and thoughts. I remember screaming and crying, begging my dad to change. He admitted to being addicted to heroin before he went to jail and he promised me and my sisters he would get better. I guess the urge to snort something is stronger than the urge to fight for your kids. I kept going, unleashing everything that I have kept in. From the times before today, from when he blamed me for him being in jail, just all of it. I told him how I felt the time I found heroin in his wallet and how I felt about the drug period. I asked him if he would tell me the truth and he denied it. He denied everything. Worst part about it is, every time I hear of an overdose in Springfield, I think it’s my dad. If this crucial experience taught me anything, it would have to be how to have no filter when it comes to things like this. Not having a filter is what makes me, me.