“This is Jessica’s journal?”

The teen twirled about the room, stopping to make faces at the pufferfish in the tank.

The mother of the girl was jerked back to the psychiatrist. “Oh. Yes.”

“And this was her, in all sincerity?”

“Yes. I don’t know. I think.”

“I need her to take this seriously, Ms. Reed. You need her to.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s all for today.”

“C’mon Jess, let’s go.”

As the pair of them entered their old, beat up car, Jessica said, “Mom, are we going to go back there?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like her.”

“Why not?”

“She’s too smart.”

“Or maybe I’m just not good enough an actress.”

Pulling out a cigarette, the mother said, “You’re perfect sweetheart.”

But not perfect enough to stay clean for, apparently.