"Jessa, on a one to ten scale, how much anxiety are you feeling over your release today?"

I was squeezing the life out of a jelly stress pig when I glanced back up to Dr. Schroeder's kind eyes. He watched me squash and release it again and again until it was completely flattened in my hand.

"Forty-Five?" I gulped, looking back down.

Squeeze.

"That's a very specific number, Jessa. Why forty-five?" He said, noting it in his little notebook.

"Forty-four was too little and forty-six made me sound crazy. I'm just not sure me leaving right now is a good idea." I said, slinking down further into the couch, trying to avoid his intense gaze.

Squeeze.

"What are you afraid of?" He asked, chewing on the pen cap, waiting to jot down whatever messed up thing that came out of my mouth next. Maybe if I could fake crazy well enough, he would sign the paper to keep me here permanently. I wasn't feeling quite ready to join the general population again. I needed more time. He had given me an extension before on my stay when I had asked, but he had already made it clear he wasn't going to give me another.

"I'm afraid nothing has changed." I said, making the little pig's eye pop out in a disturbing way.

"Why is that?" He asked.

"Why do you think?" I snapped back at him, answering his question with my own. If he wanted to play this game with me this morning, then I could play it right back. I wasn't in the mood for his psychoanalysis. I was too keyed up to have any patience with him today.

Squeeze.

"Why don't you tell me?" He challenged back.

"Quit asking question after freaking question. I can't take it. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

I put my head in my hands, wanting to hide from this man and his judging eyes. I had already divulged too much about myself to him. He was probably busy looking through his notes at all the raunchy details so he could discuss them later with his friends.

"Is your reaction to our session today because of your feelings about Cameron?" I should have never told him about my ex-best friend turned sex partner who I thought I was head over heels in love with. It was not like he was going to let me get away with avoiding the subject. Dr. Schroeder was very aware of who Cameron was. He would have found a way to get me talking about him sooner or later.

Cameron, Dr. Schroeder, and my Dad had conspired together to get me here. They were all such good friends now. They probably went to family picnics together so they could discuss poor Jessa and her wild ways.

During a family therapy session, my Dad had finally admitted that the three of them had spent weeks creating the plan. It was so well devised that my Dad had even kept it from my Mom so she would inadvertently push me into Cameron's arms without even realizing it. He knew her threat to readmit me would send me right where he wanted me. It was dastardly, but it was a genius move on his part.

The only thing he didn't factor into the plan was Cameron and I sleeping together after they found me. Cameron had come up with that part all on his own.

"No, it's not Cameron." I lied.

Squeeze.

Dr. Schroeder gave me a little 'humpf' and jotted down that I was lying in the stupid little notebook he carried around. The man drove me crazy, but he was a good doctor. He actually cared about his patients. Even the ones who pushed his buttons like me. It wasn't his fault that Cameron was just a sore subject for me. I hadn't really forgiven him for what he did to me, but I wasn't ready to let him go either.

All my confused feelings about the situation haunted me every second. Did Cameron mean it when he said he loved me or did he just say it because it was the only way to turn on my emotional blinders long enough to get me here?

I wasn't even sure if I wanted to find out. Either scenario would bring a whole new set of feelings that would be impossible for me to process.

Thinking about Cameron made me want to punch the little stress pig in the head until it exploded.

Squeeze.

Cameron had tried to keep up appearances for a while after I was admitted. He came to visit me every week for the first six months I was here and I refused to see him every single time. During the seventh month, he stopped showing up and I found myself deepening into my despair. I paced around my room every day and night for three weeks waiting for the nurse to come tell me he was there just so I could tell her that I wanted him to go away.

After the seventh month of my sentence came and went, I got really bad into my head. By the end of the eighth month, I was put on 24-hour surveillance for threatening to harm myself. They readjusted my meds during my fluctuations and I started flying high. They shifted them repeatedly until they found the exact right combination to keep me flat. I spent twelve months up and down. During the twelfth month, Dr. Schroeder was ready to sign my release papers. I begged him to let me stay a little bit longer and he complied.

By month fourteen, he said I had to start moving forward. He signed the papers even though I kept protesting. I threatened to barricade myself in his office and break all his stuff if he made me leave. Dr. Schroeder didn't give in. He pulled a very uncharacteristic move. He gave me a hug and told me these feelings were a good sign that leaving was the right decision. I cried into his shoulder and told him I was afraid.

Part of me knew it was time to go, but the other part was a coward.

I was getting out today and I had no clue how I was going to cope. My Mom and Dad were coming to get me, but I secretly wished Cam would be standing outside with open arms waiting for me. I couldn't face him knowing he knew all my dirty secrets, but I also didn't want to go on without him. The duality of my brain always worked against each other. That was why the medication was necessary to put up a barrier between the two sides.

No barrier equaled a battle where Good Jessa almost always lost.

Maybe Cam had found a new pretty girlfriend and that was why he stopped showing up. Another possibility was that he had realized loving someone like me was impossible and would only end in pain. A girl like me could never be in an actual healthy functioning relationship. I wasn't even really worth the effort to make it work.

Or maybe he never really cared about me at all?

I had to stop this self-deprecating bullshit. It wasn't like getting involved with someone right outside of treatment was recommended. Even if that person was who you thought you should spend the rest of your life with. Thinking about him obsessively wasn't going to get me even close to where I needed to be in my recovery.

"Excuse Me." The short chubby nurse knocked softly on the door. "The Millers are here for Jessa."

"I guess that means our time's up. Remember what we talked about, Jessa. The first sign of trouble, any missed dose, anything at all, I want you to call immediately. No excuses this time." He looked at me over his glasses and then pushed them up the bridge of his nose.

I nodded and stood up to leave the room.

The nurse escorted me back to my room to collect my belongings. I didn't have a lot of things since the facility restricted what was allowed to be brought in to keep the residents safe. I grabbed my little mesh tote bag and opened it. On the top of the bag were the four bottles of medications I had been prescribed. I felt the need to double-check to make sure I had packed them. I still didn't trust Bad Jessa, even if she was floating on an inner tube along a lazy river while sipping mimosas.

Quiet Bad Jessa was still dangerous.

The nurse motioned for me to follow her. I wish I had the brain processing capability to remember her name. She was one of the quiet ones and I appreciated the fact that she never forced me to talk. She gave me a little wave goodbye when we got to the front door before heading back to the nurse's station. I took a deep breath as she walked away, leaving me standing alone shaking.

"You can do this." I whispered to myself as I shook my hands out. Today was the day, now was the time.

No more stalling.

It was time to introduce the new Jessa Miller.