JESSA;

I was hungover and pissed off.

The fluorescent lights in the waiting room were too bright, the chairs were uncomfortable, and I had a headache that felt like someone was taking a sledgehammer to my skull.

But none of that mattered because I was here against my will.

Court-mandated therapy. Eight sessions with some shrink who was supposed to "help me work through my issues" so I wouldn't shoplift again. Like talking to a stranger about my feelings was going to stop me from stealing a fucking lipstick from Sephora.

The whole thing was bullshit.

I checked my phone. 2:58 PM. My appointment was at three.

The door to...