Three days after Dr. Schroeder performed a minor tweak to my medication, I was starting to come back up again. Rising out of a depressed state of mind had always been a slow process for me, but when I got leveled out, I was usually able to normalize my thoughts and keep them there. It was much different than coming down from my mania. When I was manic, I could crash in a blink of an eye and would always bypass a more steady thought process right into a pit of despair and self-loathing.

Dr. Schroeder had admitted me to the hospital upon my arrival for observation. He kept me there the first night in a secluded, private room with limited visitors. I fell asleep as soon as everyone left the room and slept for fourteen straight hours without waking up once.

The nurse on duty came in the next morning and shook me awake gently. She said Dr. Schroeder had called and was going to be dropping in on me to sit down for an impromptu therapy session.

As soon as he walked in the door, he threw me my favorite stress pig. He told me that he swung by his office to pick it up because he thought I might need it today. My tears began flowing immediately and they refused to stop falling as I squeezed the life out of the poor thing. I ugly cried for two full hours without stopping.

I began the session talking about my new life in LA and how homesick I was before I came back. I discussed the constant pressure I was under from the record label. Most importantly, I was able to talk about Cameron. His name kept escaping my lips no matter what topic we were on. It didn't take me very long to realize the only reason I was crying was because of what happened between him and me.

After I unleashed all of my pent-up emotions, Dr. Schroeder gave me his honest opinion. His diagnosis was a simple one. He said I was burnt out, physically and emotionally. He updated my prescriptions and told me to take it easy for a few more days. He didn't feel like I was a threat to myself or others in my current state, which meant I was free to go home.

I spent the next two days while I was recovering, locked up in my old bedroom, hiding from the rest of the world until I stabilized and got some much-needed rest.

My parents had managed to keep my meltdown under wraps. In fact, at this point, only my family knew I was fighting with my mental health again. I hid it from everyone else I knew. I was even dodging Stells and Sven when they tried to reach out to me. It wasn't like my struggle ever really went away; it had just laid somewhat dormant for a while until I almost forgot what it was like to be in that constant state of uncertainty.

Fortunately, this episode was shorter than my typical average and I was feeling much better now. My thoughts were slightly off and a bit loopy but manageable. I was ready to stand back up and start moving again.

My phone rang and for the first time in days, I actually felt like talking to someone outside of these four walls. I looked down at the screen and saw Link's name screaming at me.

I shouldn't answer this one.

My finger had already pressed the button before my brain could stop it. I wasn't getting out of this now, even if I hung up on him. He would just keep calling until I answered. I owed him a conversation and I knew it.

"Hey, Link." I chirped into the phone.

"You seriously thought just skipping town would get you out of this, Jessa? Do you know the hoops I had to jump through to get that guy to drop the charges?" Link screamed through the other line at me.

"That's why you're the best manager ever, Link." I stroked his ego just a little bit to soften him up. Link was the type of person who loved praise. He was a piece of butter melting in a microwave when it was heaped on him.

"I am and that's why you are going to play a charity show I booked for another one of my bands. They were double booked and had to back out at the last minute. Stells told me you went back to Ohio, which means you are only a few hours away from the venue and can get there in time. Oh, and before you ask, I already talked to the label about it and they have agreed you should do it. They think it would be fabulous publicity which is something you need right now." He said in his deep, dominant tone. He wasn't asking me to play the show; he was telling me what I was going to do.

"I am out here to take a break, Link. A siesta, a retreat. I need a nap, Link. Let me take a freaking nap!" I let out a high-pitched whine into the receiver. Overly dramatic Jessa had entered the building. I was being difficult because I wanted to be. There was no other reason for my reaction.

"You know that saying about being wicked." Link laughed.

Not the time for rest, got it. If he only knew how close I was three days ago to giving up on everything, maybe he would be a little nicer to me right now.

"So you are saying if you splash me with a bucket of water, I will melt?" I joked to annoy him a little longer. I already knew it was a done deal; I was going to go play that show. I wanted to do it.

"You are the most frustrating person I have ever had the pleasure of working with. I'd rather drop a house on you." He snorted.

"Love you too, Link. Send me the details. I'll be there." I sighed.

"You better be smiling while you play." He snorted, celebrating his victory.

"Well, now your asking way too much. But I promise I'll make an attempt to be good." I pressed the button and hung up on him before he could try to talk me into anything else.

A few seconds later, Link sent me information on the venue. I sighed loudly when I saw it. I pretty much had to hit the road within the next two hours to make it there to have enough time to do a few run-throughs with the band.

I grabbed my suitcase that I had barely unpacked and began stuffing a few things back in. I didn't need as much as I was packing, but I wasn't one to travel light anymore. After the first tour I took when I had nothing, I had a slight fear of not having my things. I went for months without back then and it made me a packrat when I traveled.

Puddles tried to jump on the bed to help me pack and failed miserably. His little fat self couldn't even come close. I should have brought his doggy stairs with me, but I was in such a rush to leave LA that it never crossed my mind. I would have to buy a set for here since I wasn't sure how long I was staying this time.

I bent down and laughed as I picked him up to place him on the bed. I turned around for one second to grab my bottles of meds to put them in the bag. When I turned back, Puddles was curled up comfortably in the middle of my suitcase like he owned the damned thing.

"You're not going with me. You know the rules. No stinky boys at the hotel." I laughed and started to try to pick him up. He growled at me and dug in further, burying his head under my clothes to hide.

He was such a stubborn ass. I raised him right.

"Are you leaving again?" An angry voice rang out behind me.

I took a deep breath to steady myself. So much for maintaining my fragile stability. This ludicrous boy was determined to send me straight to a mental institution.

"Hey, Cami." I groaned.