At my last session with Dr Favero he chided me for not writing anymore history bullshit and so I promised to finish up. Well, my next (and final) session with him is in just under two hours so I better hurry up. Here goes...

I wouldn't say I turned tricks to pay for college. I wasn't on a street corner wearing fishnets and offering up Cleveland Steamers or anything.

I took plenty of legit work as well as the more *wink wink* kind of jobs. The Husband was fond of contracting my services and probably paid for the majority of my education with his Football Sunday gatherings. He'd chase the wife off and invite a bunch of his friends over the "watch football." Instead they'd spend a few hours passing me around like a party favor.

It went on for months before we were ever close to being caught. Once, The Wife, pulled into the driveway while I was bent over the dinner table, her husband balls deep in my ass. The guys scrambled to clean shit up, turn on the actual football game and hide me. I spent 7 hours in the laundry room closet waiting to be told it was all clear. Finally, after The Wife had gone to bed, The Husband came and got me. I climbed onto the dryer and let him finish what we had started and then left. After that Football Sunday moved to one of the friends' houses.

Four years of that and I had my degree in accounting.

The Wife never found out about the Football Sundays but I was watching the news about a year after the last time I'd seen him and he had been arrested for raping one of his students (he was an eight grade history teacher). He was given 5 to 10 years for aggrivated assault and 15 to 20 years for aggrivated rape of a minor.

So there, you know my back story now. Nothing about why I tried to kill myself you'll notice but then again I didn't set out to tell you that part, did I?

More later...

Sorry, I know it's been a while but with it being less than a week until they (hopefully) give me the all clear to return to society at large, everything has been rather hectic.

Dr. Favero has been talking with me daily and with Hannah getting out at the same time, our down time has been spent looking for apartments (I've officially decided to stay in Fort Myers) and talking about all the evil shit we'll do on the outside.

I've been seeing Roth more and more and I'm really happy when he's around. The week between my discharge and his is gonna be brutal. We've been getting so close it's kind of scary. I've been in long-term relationships with people I've felt less connection with. It's fucking weird.

As a weekend treat thing they let us loose in a park (semi-supervised, of course). We ran around, talked, and just generally acted like 12 year-olds on a field trip. Hannah took pictures of anything that stood still for a few seconds and Roth and I snuck off into a wooden area and finally gave into a few of our baser instincts.

Originally we were planning on just hiding out, snogging a little maybe but when we realized how alone we really were we ended up gave in.

We snogged a while and I went down on him. Then he rubbed me through my pants and pressed me against a tree. I slid my pants and underwear down just far enough to let him in and we quicky fucked right there. Me, pressed against a tree, biting my lip, trying not to scream and draw attention to us. Roth, arm around my waist, groaning in my ear each time he thrust. It didn't last nearly long enough but he's huge and hit my spot so fucking perfectly I probably couldn't have handle much more. He growled into my ear asking where I wanted his cum. Where do you think I told him?

Afterwards, we wandered back to find the group and there they were, stilling running around. No one aside from Hannah noticed we were missing and as soon as she saw me she squinted at me a little and practically yelled "You had sex!" A slutty Nostradamus, that one.

Anyways, it's been a really good few days. I'm not doing anymore backstory right now because I'm still in a good mood. I was in such a good mood, in fact, I let Hannah steal my soul a few times even.

1. Me striking a pose per Hannah's request.

2. Me and Hannah saying "cheese" per Roth's request.

3. Me striking a "less retarded" pose per Hannah's request.

We tried our damnedest to get Roth in front of the camera but thus far no luck.

Hannah's brother sent her a digital camera in his most recent care package and she was going ape-shit with it today. i was pretty good about avoiding her shutter but i let my guard down to have a juicebox and boom!




i look like shit, don't i? it's all borrowed and thrown together make-up, so i apologize. and as soon as i get out of here i'm dying my hair back to black thankyouverymuch.

otherwise today was pretty uneventful. Roth was hanging around with us all day and he and i snogged a couple of times when no one was around. i really like him. he and Hannah are the whole reason i'm so completely comfortable right now. i'm seriously thinking about staying in fort myers once this is all over with (Hannah and i get out on the 29th and Roth is out on the 5th).

no backstory today. i'm in a good mood and don't want to fuck it up. bite me dr favero

sorry for my absence. i have an actual reason though.

first of all, friday. mail guy finally worked again. he stopped by with the usual pile of letters for Hannah and absolutely nothing for me. i nudged Hannah and suddenly she remembered there was something on t.v. she wanted to watch in the commons.

mail guy whipped it out and summoning up his best ron jeremy asked me if i'd missed his cock. i stifled my laughter and told him to shut up and fuck me like a real man. oooh, that got his goat. he took it like i was insulting his manhood and he proceeded to practically rape me. he called me all sorts of filthy names, he slapped me around, he stuck two fingers into my ass. it was amazing.

this time he forgot himself and blew his load inside me. you should have seen the look on his face when he realized it. the mixture of post-coitus pleasure and unmitigated horror was hilarious. he started panicking and let slip that his wife would kill him if he got me pregnant.

now i know that in my past i've been a real whore - a complete piece of shit - but my being in rehab is about more than my attempted suicide (to me at least). i decided when i got here that i was going to break this "itch" as well as my depression. the depression is already gone and now all that's left is the itch. i forgot myself once before with mail guy and never even thought he might be married.

i told him to get out. his horror turned to anger real fucking quick with that one. he flew off the handle and started screaming at me. within seconds, three orderlies unlocked the door and rushed in. there i am, naked from the waist down - mail guy's cum running out of me and down my leg. and there's mail guy, pants around his ankle, his cock doing that windsock-without-a-breeze routine they all get when they're ready for a nap.

needless to say he was fired right then and there. i, in turn, had all of my privileges taken away. no internet, no in-room television, no commons access for the weekend. nothing.

so there you go - that's where i went.

as for saturday and sunday, Hannah was nice enough to hang around the room and talk with me most of the time and she even snuck Roth in once so we could hang out a little. we kissed finally and he told me he wasn't married (word travels fast around here apparently) and that aside from a son from his failed marriage he was unattached.

when he lived in california, he got married early (21) and divorced quick (16 months later). you'd think this was the stereotypical young failed marrige bullshit but, no. it gets fucked up real quick like.

Roth being a male, loves porno. and so whenever his wife left the house for a little while he was cruising the internet jacking it to this or that. then one day while using the free site Ask Jolene he comes across a Cum On Her Face scene with a hot readhead taking some 40 odd cumshots right in the kisser... and it's his wife.

he google's her stage name and boom! another dozen scenes pop up everywhere. there's one on Wrong Side of Town, there's one on Exploited Teens, there's one on Bangboat. it turns out that her trips to her mothers on the weekends only lasted long enough for her to drop off the kid and drive down to the Valley to get fucked on camera. you can imagine the fall-out from something like that.

they seperated, he got the kid, she disappeared. he moved to florida (his parents live in naples), got a job with his dad (roofing) and started a band or two. somewhere along the line he switched from alcohol to coke and thus he made his way here.

i told him most of my story too and aside from occasional wide-eyed disbelief, he took it all pretty well. maybe there's something to keep in fort myers after all...

okay, so dr favero wants more story so HERE:

after i stole Kash's money i hopped on a southbound bus without reading the marquee. i only ended up in Tampa because that was the end of the line. seeing as one place is just as good as another i stayed. i found a shitty little apartment and i bought some clothes and a newspaper.

the first job i got was as a babysitter in my apartment complex. i was talking to one of my neighbors about my job-finding woes and she offered to let me babysit her kids. she was desperate and so was willing to overlook my inexperience (bear in mind this was before every other news story was about a kid dying at the hands of a negligent babysitter/nanny).

her kids were incredibly easy to get long with. there were three of them 15, 10 & 7 and most of the time they were running around the neighborhood with their friends anyway, so my job was pretty easy. then, like most of my lifestories, my pussy fucked it all up.

her husband, it turned out, was incredibly hot. he was a construction foreman and had the body that only years of hard labor could produce. i only met him a handful of times in the first few weeks but everytime i did i could feel his eyes on me... and i liked it.

one night when i thought was supposed to be babysitting for them i showed up to find the kids all staying the night at friends houses. the husband was home and after telling me all that, asked what i was going to do with the night off. i had no plans and told him as much. he asked if i'd be interested in a making some money.

after my time with Kash you'd have thought that would be a red flag but i'm fucking stupid apparently. i accepted without asking what the job was like some moronic porno whore.

he took me to his friends house where he and a bunch of his buddies were playing poker. i was supposed to be the entertainment. they offered me two hundred dollars each for being the "party favor." internally i argued with myself about it until i finally managed to justify it by thinking that since it was voluntary it was alright.

i spent that night sucking and fucking, getting facefucked and dp'd. and as the night went on they got meaner and meaner. the more they drank, the worse the names they called me. in the end they were spitting on me and slapping me around, one of them actually punching me in the face... and i fucking loved it.

on the ride home, as i was sucking the husband's cock again, i decided i was going back to college and the $800 in my pocket told me how i'd be able to afford it.

i'm not writing much today just this:

apparently dr lyons has been reading this. he said it was in dr favero's instructions that he do so. he talked with me about all the backstory and was surprisingly supportive. he said he was drug dealing sack of shit prior to cleaning up and going to med school. he also mentioned that he's actually 44, not in his 30s at all.

finally, he told me that it would be unprofessional of him to even mention what i had wrote about him as long as he was my physician. i wasn't sure if that was a hint or not but once the session was over i asked him if he could say anything now, since he was officially not my doctor anymore.

he said he was terribly flattered and if wasn't absolutely sure it would get him in trouble he might even act upon it. but that he wasn't going to jeopardize anything. very diappointing. i was hoping he would just pull out his cock and make me blow him or maybe fuck me all over dr favero's office. maybe bend me over the desk the way i had imagined dr favero doing it... but no.

oh, well. plenty to think about tonight.

and AGAIN no mail guy. i'm starting to think he quit. if he doesn't come back soon i may do something drastic and jump Hannah bones.

day-to-day:
Hannah and i talked a hell of a lot today. she's making this a lot easier to deal with. i told her about mail guy and she offered to leave the room whenever i needed her too. she also offered to let me stay with her when we get out because we get out within a few days of each other, so that was nice.

no dr favero again so i had to deal with dr lyons again. it was easier to concentrate this time but i still let my mind wander more than with dr favero. he gave no indication that he reads the blog but he asked strangely personal questions the entire session. still on-topic, i guess but only slightly. tomorrow is the last day he's my substitute doc and then he's back off to his normal clinic in fort lauderdale so i don't have to manage much longer.

no Roth today either. i ate lunch with a couple of people from my group therapy. the woman who tried to kill herself after her husband left her for a man is actually really nice.

okay, now the backstory bullshit:

you'd think i'd have avoided Katja's mistakes but no. i moved in with Hank, the guy i was seeing at the time. i didn't even know his last name until i'd been living with him for a few weeks. he was a small time drug dealer too and had, in fact, known Freddie C.

i lived with hank for almost six months and every night he went out to peddle his wares the neighbor would come over and fuck me. hank was so doped up all the time that he probably fucked me all of a dozen times in those six months so i had to get it somewhere, right?

six months in to our whirlwind romance hank got himself indebted to the wrong people and they broke his legs. with him stuck at home all the time i had to keep coming up with creative reasons to leave the house for long stretches at a time in order to steal away to the neighbor's place.

and when i was unable to do so i had to do more and more blow in order to be able to tolerate Hank which, along with killing my insides, just made the money situation worse. hank tried everything he could think of to drum up the money he owed but kept coming up short. finally, worthless sack of shit that he was, he figured it out.

he gave me to the guy he owed the money to in exchange for a clear debt. i was too fucked up too resist at the time - in fact i barely remember it.

the guy i was given to, Kash, wasn't a drug lord or anything, just a bigger deal than hank would ever be. he was attractive physically but had the most unpleasant personality of anyone i have met (before or since). he refused to call me by name, instead i was whore, slut, cocksucker - whatever he thought of at the time.

i cooked and cleaned for him. i sucked his cock and let him fuck me. i sucked his friends cocks and let them fuck me. he kept me so high that i scarcely resisted most of the time and whenever i did i was forced into a dog collar and made to crawl around on the floor until i willingly did whatever was being asked of me.

finally one night, after i was gangraped by Kash and a dozen of his friends i lay in my bed crying myself to sleep, i resolved to run away. i wasn't a slave. i wasn't under some nefarious contract. it was own weakness keeping me in that house, in that bed.

it took another few weeks to find the oppurtunity to leave since there was always someone there with me. and i think Kash knew what was coming because for those last few weeks he more brutal to me than ever. i still have a tattoo on my ass that says "worthless whore" from that time.

but finally one day i was left alone for some reason and i left. i didn't pack anything, i just stole as much oney as i could find and i left. to this day i wonder why he's never come after me - i took nearly five grand.

but i took the money and ran. thus i came to florida.


alright, enough story for know. dr favero better be happy with that for a while because this is dredging up some incredibly dark and depressing memories and feelings. i don't think i'll write more backstory for a while, sorry doc.

day-to-day:

there was a different mail guy on duty so there's nothing to tell there.

my roommate finally started speaking to me besides the one and two words she'd mustered thus far. her name is apparently Hannah and she's a lesbian. she'd in for a suicide attempt but has been getting treated for a meth addiction as well.

we watched some telelvision together and talked about music (she has a tegan & sara tattoo! awesome.), movies (she loves harold & maude! even awesomer.) and relationships (she tried to kill herself after her girlfriend died of an overdose so this was a pretty macabre topic). she apologized for "being a cold bitch" thus far and i apologized for masturbating while she was in the room the first night i got here.

i also saw Roth at lunch today. he was sitting alone so i plopped down across from him and he warmed right up. i really like him. i can tell because i haven't been overly tempted to drag him into the nearest janitor's closet, i genuinely like talking to him. don't get me wrong... give the oppurtunity... hmmmmm

group therapy was shitty as always. that obnoxious twat was running it again today and she scowled at me the whole time. if she weren't such an unbearable cunt she'd be attractive but that permanent "my shit doesn't stink" look on her face fucks it all up. she skipped me during "sharing time" so that was nice but otherwise it was just as shitty as always.

no dr favero today. he's out for the next couple of days apparently. his replacement, dr lyons is way hotter and i therefore couldn't really concentrate properly during our brief session. he kept talking to me but he has such a deep dark baritone voice that just made it worse. they couldn't give me an ugly doctor in his 80s, it had to be the hot black doctor in his 30s with the michael clarke duncan voice, didn't it? god, i hope he doesn't read this.

alright, now since i know dr favero will eventually get to reading this i better to some of the backstory bullshit he wanted:

like i said, i stole my name from my dead sister. i'm actually Jayna. Jayna Jadwig Hagen. my parents were german-descent brits who moved my sister and i to new york when i was 12 (and Katja was 15).

two years later Katja ran away from home because my father didn't approve of her 28 year-old boyfriend, Freddie C - the aspiring rapper and small-time drug dealer. we didn't see her for three years and when she came home, she had a three year-old son and a $250-a-day heroin habit. she lived at home, bleeding my parents dry for another two years before she had the decency to die. she was 5'9 and 87 pounds.

i left home the day after i turned eighteen. i couldn't stand to see Katja day-in and day-out, slowing killing herself and my parents. i didn't go to her funeral and i didn't go to my mother's funeral. i don't know what happened to her son and i haven't spoken to my father since he called to tell me my mother was dead - he's probably dead by now too.

so apparently dr favero does actually read this. in our session today he said he wished that i had stayed on topic with the blog. he said he had wanted me to write about what lead me to trying to kill myself, not the day-to-day of my rehab. though he did say the day-to-day is important and suggested i combine the two.

he didn't say anything about what i wrote about him though which is a little disappointing. so help me god before i check out of here dr favero is going to fuck me - mark my words.

he gave me permission to use the library afterhours (thus the late night post) so that i can write whenever it strikes me. so here i am.

first the day-to-day b.s. -
mail guy stopped by tonight but my roommate was in the room. i whispered to him that next time i'd make sure she was gone for a while and i rubbed his cock through his jeans. oh, you should've seen the look on his face. i probably could've gotten him to kill my roommate then and there for a piece of me. ahhhh... men.

i met roth in the rec room and we talked and watched Heroes. he's really nice. he's in for a coke addiction but this isn't his first time. he's on a first name basis with several of the orderlies and even used to be in a band with one of them.

we talked about music, movies and drugs and in all the important ways we agreed with one another. eventually though we were told we had to go back to our rooms and our shitty little rehab date was cut off. but it was nice.

alright, so i don't feel like doing backstory bullshit yet. maybe tomorrow. for now i'm tired and i want to masturbate before i fall asleep. tonight dr favero, mail guy and roth are going to gangbang me, it think.

oh, happy day!

sunday was the single greatest day i've had since getting stuck in this shithole. i had to get in here early today and write.

first of all, mail guy dropped off my "care package" saturday night. i feel like a spoiled american cunt to be say 'oh thank god' when i've only been in here for 8 days but sweet jesus i had missed the luxuries of outside living.

and to make things even better my roommate was out when mail guy dropped by. i did my best "flirty slut" and sure enough he picked up on it. i hadn't really expected it to work considering i had just met him yesterday but apparently he'd had the same thought as i had.

knowing we didn't have all the time in the world, we didn't say a goddamn thing. we just fucked. he whipped it out, i bent over. there was no romance to it but who the fuck cares? he fucked me hard and fast and i came twice so i'm not complaining. he pulled out and came on my ass saying he didn't want to "knock up a crazy chick" (lovely bedside manners on this one).

on the outside i would find this obnoxious and would probably never speak to him again but as i'm locked up and my options are limited, if i get another chance so help me god.

he also delivered roth's response (though considering the preceeding fuckfest seemed a little lackluster) in which he said he'd seen me too but hadn't taken the time to aske around but complimented my "slacker enthusiasm." he said he'd be in the rec room tonight for Heroes and invited me to join him.

and there was new Family Guy on so sunday turned out to be fucking great.

i'll try and get back in here tonight to tell you how today goes but for now know that i feel alright and that i'm happy that i didn't kill myself. maybe this is all part of the treatment?

i've been pretty good about this daily thing, haven't i?

that being said, i'm not posting tomorrow. apparently the library is closed so i won't have computer access. oh well. it's not like anyone is reading this anyways.

today was a free day. no group therapy, no dr favero.

i'm starting to feel better about having failed at killing myself, i guess.

so my roommate informed me that one of the guys who drop off the mail (i won't say which one just in case someone reads this) apparently also smuggles in things for a price so i contracted him to get me some porn (i even specified types, hee hee) and chocolate (dark). i can't wait.

he also delivers mail that would otherwise be confiscated so i wrote a quick letter to roth and had mail guy take it for me. it was ballsy, i know, but if i'm going to get anything before the end of the month it's going to require drastic action on my part.

though, for the record, if mail guy ever stops by when my roommate is out i may not need roth. he's hot, what can i say?

he's supposedly coming back by tonight so monday i'll update you.

nevermind what i said yesterday. apparently there's at least one fuckable in the bunch.

his name is roth. i haven't spoken to him directly or anything but i saw him in the cafeteria last night and asked around.

he's in for overdosing on coke so he's in a different wing but you never know.

dr favero didn't yell at me for the last post, he just asked how i was feeling, etc. like he hadn't even read it. he's kind of attractive in that older-authority kind of way so i guess i was secretly hoping he was keeping up with what i wrote but i guess not.

so apparently i can get away with typing anything here that i want and he'll never say anything. so here goes: my first night here i masturbated thinking about dr favero bending me over his desk. he had on his lab coat and glasses and nothing else and was pulling my hair while fucking me and he kept asking me how it felt.

i came so hard i'm pretty sure i woke up my roommate because i could help but jerk and shake while doing it and my bed made that awful metal-on-tile scraping noise the whole time. so much for subtlety, right?

i should probably be in rehab for nymphomania not post-suicide counseling.

all i can think about is getting out of here so i can get fucked. there's not one single attractive person on my wing. and even if there was, the nurses and orderlies watch us like hawks, i scarcely think i could nip off to the janitor's closet for a quicky even if there was someone i'd let inside me.


dr favero is going to hate this post and i'll probably get reprimanded for it but fuck it.

group therapy today. i can't believe the losers i've been lumped with.

there's a woman who tried to kill herself because her boyfriend left her for another man.

there's a guy who tried to kill himself because his wife gave him HIV after she got it from the gardener.

when it was turn to tell the room why i had tried to end it all i could say is "i wanted to."

the counselor, a self-righteous little twat with a shiny new degree in psychology, wouldn't let me go with just that. she kept pressing me for my feelings and my thoughts leading up to taking the pills. i eventually couldn't take it anymore and ending up screaming at her to shut the fuck up or something and she had me removed.

easier than sharing, i suppose.

the head nurse scolded me and told me that "like it or not" I was stuck here until the end of the month. whoo-hoo.

you might be wondering where i went. you might not.

i had another blog. but i left out a lot. i tried to kill myself.

i've known for sometime that there was something wrong. very very wrong. i knew it everytime i shot up or did a line off of a sink basin. i knew it everythime i did a kegstand. i knew it everytime i let a married guy fuck me while his wife was out getting groceries. everytime she came home early and i had to hide under the bed or in a closet.

i cried myself to sleep most nights whether or not anyone was in earshot. no one tried to help. i had no friends. i have no friends.

i knew but i did nothing. i sat back and accepted that i'd die before i turned 30 just like my sister.
let's start with honest, shall we? my name isn't Katja. that's my dead sister's name. i stole it because mine is shitty. my real name is Jayna and ever since Kat and i were little i'd wanted to steal her name.

she died at 22. she was 87 pounds when she died of a heroin overdose.
two weeks after her funeral my mother slit her wrists in a church confessional.

i'm not addicted to any drugs. i've done a lot over the years but i'm not addicted to any of them.
i'm not in rehab for a drug problem. i'm in rehad for severe mental breakdown. i took half a bottle of tylenol pm and drank as much of a bottle of crown as i could. i woke up in a hospital room with my neighbor asleep in a recliner across the room.

he had always been nice to me. even after his wife left him because i got drunk and told her that he had fucked me in their garage while she was inside with their newborn.

the librarian is telling me i'm out of time. more tomorrow maybe.

dr favero hates the name of this blog. he thinks it's a cry for help.

i told him it's just truth in advertising. i'm worthless at this point and if it weren't for my neighbor i'd have been allowed to kill myself and get it over with. Katja was dead long before this.


i haven't done anything worthwhile. wouldn't that make me worthless?

he wants me to write in here daily but i doubt that'll happen.