I spent three straight hours scrolling through Cam's posts and his photos.  Most of his posts were funny memes he ran across.  He was so adorable.  I loved his quirky sense of humor. 

His status still said single, which made my insides flip. I had to remember he was male; it wasn't like he would update it unless a girlfriend forced him to.  I was pleasantly surprised to find out he didn't unfriend me.  It meant I had free access to ogle every bit of his life since I left. 

"Cameron Nash, you are such a naughty boy." I whispered as I took a screenshot of one of his newest photos where he was shirtless by a pool.  He had his arm above his head and his swim trunks were hanging low enough on his hips to see the little lines that led down to a very impressive part of his body.  It was like a little trail I had the urge to follow.

That boy was the devil. He put that picture up there just to torment me.

I knew how pathetic stealing a Facebook photo off a profile looked, but it was an excellent picture of him.  He had a really good tan.  Anyone else would have done the same thing in my shoes. I added the photo to his contact in my phone.  Now I would be able to see his gorgeous face every time I sat looking at the number debating to call him.

I glanced at the time when I was out of my Cameron Nash stupor.

Shit. 

I was going to be late for that group. I grabbed my bag and tore off down the steps without even saying goodbye. 

I was going to have to speed to get there.  Knowing my luck, I would get pulled over.

Maybe Cameron was on duty today and he would be the one to stop me.  I could already see him pulling me out of the car, bending me over the hood, and frisking me just to make sure I wasn't hiding anything. He would tell me he had no choice but to write me a ticket. I would drop down to my knees and look up at him as I batted my eyelashes. I would let him know that I would do absolutely anything to avoid paying a fine.  He would grab himself and tell me there was only one way to get me off without a citation.

Enter cheap porn music with a couple of bum-chicka-bow-wow's. 

I shook my Cameron Nash dirty fantasy out of my head. I was so sick sometimes.

He did look really amazing in that photo.  That wasn't helping my situation. 

"Focus on the road to recovery, Jessa, or at least focus on where you are driving." Good Jessa scolded me.

I had to swerve into the other lane to avoid hitting a blown-out tire in the road.  I was glad Good Jessa intervened when she did or I would be seeing the police for a whole different reason today.

There was nothing sexy about a car accident.

I looked down at my phone to double-check the address after I parked my car in the public parking lot down the road.  Looking at the building in front of me, I would have never guessed it housed the outpatient mental health group I was going to join.  It looked like a small post office building.  The reddish-brown brick gave it a quaint little home feeling.

My nervousness was overtaking me.  I knew I needed to go in, but my feet were glued firmly to the sidewalk.  I could feel my breathing quicken and I started fidgeting.  I wish I had the little stress pig from the treatment facility to torture.  I needed to find some quick, non-substance or sex-related relief. 

I turned around and began walking back towards my car.  This was too much to handle. I wasn't ready to do this today, even though I had thought I was. It was my decision to change my mind.

This group was a recommendation, not a mandate.

"Hey, are you new here?"  I looked up from the ground and saw a tall, thin woman with short dark hair looking at me curiously.

"Um, yeah.  I... I..." I couldn't spit it out.

"It's ok. I was nervous too.  I just started here last week."  She smiled at me and her eyes creased at the corners.  She was stunning, I could tell she was a little older than me by the way she carried herself, but she still had a youngish vibe to her. 

"What's your name?"  She asked, linking her arm in mine and started walking me up the stairs towards the door.  My feet reluctantly decided to come along with us.

"Jess...Jessa Miller."  I said, shaking.

She paused and I almost pulled her over when I kept going to the next step.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Jessa.  I thought I saw a bee."  She laughed. "I'm allergic.  I blow up like a balloon. Throat closes, the works. I have an EpiPen on me at all times in case I get stung."

"Yikes, that's scary."  I don't think I had ever been stung by a bee before.  I wasn't sure how to relate to her. I wasn't allergic to anything that I knew of.

Well, except good decisions.  I was definitely allergic to good decisions.  Did they make an EpiPen for that too? I made a mental note to check into it.

"It can be, but I am used to it now. Oh, crap, I forgot to introduce myself. Since I'm your new best friend, you probably want to know what to call me.  I'm Gabby."  She laughed awkwardly.  She was nice, a little off, but I didn't want to judge her too much.  People with our types of issues were always just a little on the weird side of the personality spectrum.

"Nice to meet you, Gabby." I said politely back to her.

"Come on, newbie.  Let's get inside before all the good seats are taken."  She pulled open the door and I swallowed, wondering if I could make it through this.

At least I already had an ally on my side.

My nerves subsided a bit once we got inside until the group leader asked me to introduce myself.  Gabby grabbed my hand and held it as I closed my eyes and let it fly.

It was freeing to admit to the room full of strangers that I was an addict who had severe mental health issues.  As I looked around, I could see everyone listening without judgment; they understood where I was coming from.  My story was by far not the worst. There was a guy in there who went to jail for pulling a gun on his wife and a girl who burned her house down because she thought she saw a cockroach reading her phone bill.  I had thought about burning things before, but I never actually went through with it. I didn't even know that could be related to my condition. 

The group leader asked me to describe what it was like during my episodes and how they felt when I realized what was happening to me. I flashed back to all the times I was on my knees, bent over, tied up, and used by a guy who didn't care less about me. I thought about how he would choke me until I was about to pass out and how he would pass me around like I wasn't even a person. I thought about the weak girl who refused to stand up for herself. 

I didn't want to put those images out to a room full of strangers. Some of them had already mentioned they had the same types of compulsions I had.  All it would take would be getting a little too graphic in my imagery and it could trigger someone.  We all needed each other, but we were still dangerous to one another as well.  There was a fine line we had to walk.

I chose to skip those details and just said, "I felt wrong."

I received a lot of head nods and verbalized agreement.  For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel so alone.

After an hour and a half, a handful of stale chocolate chip cookies, and some terrible thin brown liquid they tried to pass off as coffee, Gabby and I were walking out the door.  

"Would you want to hang out with me later? I don't have a lot of friends anymore. Most of my friends stopped talking to me after everything that happened to me."  Gabby asked.

Gabby was an addict like me, except she used to smoke herself stupid instead of swallowing it like I did.  She also admitted to having an alcohol problem.  It was interesting how drugs and alcohol always went hand in hand. She didn't really come out and say what her mental diagnosis had been, but she hinted that it was related to traumatic psychosis.

"Well, I promised my Mom a girl's day tomorrow.  She won't mind if you want to tag along with us. We are just going to go get our hair done. She'll be glad I made a friend. Counting you, I now have exactly one friend." I laughed.

"No, you should do something with your Mom.  How about after you're done?  We can go to dinner and swap war stories. I'm in desperate need of some juicy stories. I've already binge-watched everything on Netflix."  She smiled.

"That sounds...nice. Here give me your number."  I pulled my phone out of my pocket.  She rattled off her number and I sent her a quick text to give her mine.

"Awesome.  See you soon, Jessa."  She waved back to me as she walked away.