I had been doing exactly two things for the last three weeks.

The first one was doing anything and everything I could to avoid Cameron Nash. After the incident at his house, I decided it was better just to stay away. I spent that whole night beating myself up for what almost happened between us. My doctor recommended staying out of a relationship for the next few months until I was steady on my own two feet. I understood why after seeing how spastic I felt being around him again. Distance was a good thing right now.

The second thing I was doing to fill my time without Cameron was job hunting. I finally landed an interview with a recruiter with Gabby's expert job-hunting skills. She said if anyone could land me a job, it was this guy. There wasn't much out there for a 22-year-old ex-musician who had never held a real job in her life. It was a rough situation to be in. To get a job, you had to have experience. You had to have a job to get experience. How was anyone ever expected to thrive when the system was so flawed?

Couldn't someone just take me on as an apprentice or something?

I pulled everything out of my closet, looking for something nice to wear that would impress the recruiter who was helping me. I gave up when holey band t-shirts and leggings looked like my only viable options. I had the fashion sense of a barely legal prostitute. One of these days, I was going to have to grow up and get a big girl wardrobe. One filled with cardigans and dress slacks. It was going to be hard to be taken seriously at a job with a cartoon drawing of a guy flipping the bird on your shirt.

I still loved that shirt. I giggled when I pushed it to the back of the closet.

I was broke; I didn't even have a dollar in my bank account. My only options were to beg my parents for money to buy a new outfit or raid my mom's more adult closet. I chose the latter. It seemed like the least humiliating option. I went into her room and began thumbing through a few hangers until I found a black pencil skirt and a nice silky light pink blouse.

Jackpot.

I walked over to her dresser and pulled open the top drawer, looking for a pair of black stockings. All mine had runs, holes, or were way too inappropriate to wear for a job interview. Knowing my Mom's obsessive way of arranging things, I guessed they would probably be in her underwear drawer. It sounded like the most logical place. It was where I kept mine and she had raised me. I had to have learned that behavior from somewhere.

My eyes bulged out of my head as I looked down.  I fucking lost it. The drawer was color coordinated perfectly. My goodness, my mother had an intense collection of undergarments. I picked up a pair of pretty pink ones only to realize they were crotchless. I choked on my own vomit. There was also a bra with no cups to match it. Half of everything in there was sheer in all the wrong places or missing parts that should have been there. My mouth was open on the floor, taking it all in.

On the side of the drawer was a mystery box that was singing to me. Like a dumbass, I decided I just had to open it. I lifted the lid and screamed. I threw it on the floor and danced around the room, gagging. I would never be able to unsee that.

What the hell did my parents need nipple clamps for? Who the fuck were these people? No wonder I was such a sex-crazed lunatic. Look at what these freaks did behind closed doors.

There was another box behind it. I decided I was not going to touch that one. I had been scarred enough already today.

I cursed, looking down as I realized I had messed up the drawer. My Mom would freak out if she saw I was in there rooting around. I started trying to put everything back the way it was. I closed my eyes as I picked up the nipple clamps and slid them back in the box. I closed the lid and placed them back in the corner of the drawer where I had found them. I studied my work; it was almost perfect. I shut the drawer and started to walk away when I saw the little corner of something trapped at the top.

Shit, I had to go back in the drawer of horrors.

When I pulled the drawer back open to fix it, I saw the edge of a yellow envelope sticking up. It was laying there innocently on the top of all the piles of scandalous what-nots.

Was that in there before?

My curiosity got the best of me for the second time today. Remembering what my first surprise was didn't even sway my decision to pull it out. I should have been terrified about what I was about to find. I wondered what my Mom would be hiding in an envelope in her naughty nightie drawer.

"Please don't be nudes... please don't be nudes..." I prayed out loud, picking it up slowly.

I lifted the little metal tabs and was relieved when I didn't see any pictures of my parents doing the deed. It looked like some official letter. I slid it out of the envelope and studied the words, unsure of what I was even looking at.

From the Fields County Penitentiary:

To Whom it may Concern:

Re: In the case of the State vs. Jenna Adams

This letter is to inform you that Jenna Adams has been APPROVED for parole.

There are strict procedures and policies put in place to limit the contact between this individual and said parties. If there is a question or concern, please contact the Fields County Sheriff Department at 555-289-1600.

Sincerely,

Michael Stevenson

Clerk of Courts

Who the fuck was Jenna Adams?

I stood staring at the paper, lost in my own thoughts, and didn't even hear the footsteps behind me until it was too late. When I glanced up, my Mom was standing in the doorway, horrified.

"What are you doing in here?" She asked angrily.

"What's this, Mom?" I asked, waving the paper at her.

"It's nothing, Jess. Give it to me. You shouldn't be going through my things." She walked over and snatched it out of my hand to shoved it back in the drawer.

"You're not acting like it's nothing? Who is Jenna Adams and why do you have that paper?" I asked.

"Jessa, it was someone your Dad and I knew a long time ago who did a bad thing. I don't want to talk about it anymore. Please forget you saw that and drop it." She said, trying to shoo me out of her room.

"Mom, it doesn't look like nothing," I said, complaining as she pushed me out the door.

"Jessa, we are not discussing this further." I turned around to protest again and she slammed the door in my face.

I could hear her sobbing on the other side. What was my mom keeping from me? I had never seen her like this before. Why did this letter affect her so much? What had Jenna Adams done to land her in jail and why were my parents receiving letters about her status?

I didn't have any answers to any of the questions in my head, but I knew I had to find out. The fact that my mom shut me down so fast only fueled my need to find answers.

Besides, I didn't really have anything better to do with my time anyway.

I pulled out my phone to call Gabby. I needed to talk through this with someone and Gabby was the most level-headed person I knew right now. In truth, she was the only person I really knew which made her the only real option I had.

She would help me get to the bottom of this.