The garage door hums as it moves, and a car pulls into the open space. A burly man of medium stature gets out of his car and makes his way inside. As the door to the house opens, two more close in an effort to avoid confrontation. The hour and a half of peace after each school day has ended.

Inevitably, the man finds his way to the back of the house where he finds his wife and son.

Soon after, the bickering begins. Bickering over money, over family, over happiness, yet the man doesn’t understand why his son would want to be at his mother’s house most of the week. The man doesn’t understand why his wife would go on so many walks or visit so many friends.

All he wanted was a white picket fence, after all, he was on his third try, but he would never understand that a perfect marriage had to be earned through hard work and genuine compassion for your significant other, and even then there would be hardship.

He didn’t understand why he got so angry and volatile with the people he was closest to. Nothing seemed to satiate the rage and self-hatred he felt inside. The man had tried everything: medication, counting to ten, counseling, but nothing lasted.

He didn’t understand why his lord had not come to his rescue when he was grieving. After over 45 years of Atheism, he accepted Jesus Christ as his savior, but his hardships remained.

So ashamed of the lack of achievement in his own life, the man greeted others by gloating of his son. Maybe if he told others of the boy’s accolades, they would associate those accomplishments with him. Nearly every day, he would tell his son how he envied him, how he envied his life, his work ethic, and how he looked to his son for inspiration, but it wasn’t enough, and the loathing continued to grow inside.

The pills resting on the countertop beckoned to him, and, feeling trapped and confused, the man held his breath and reached for a way to escape.