I am Jesse Pinkman

Chapter 2: No More Poison 

The first thing he did—before even finishing his notes—was tear his room apart.

Bags of weed, half-empty dime bags of meth, prescription pills in unmarked containers—he found them all stuffed in drawers, under the bed, even in his jacket pockets. Jesse Pinkman had been a walking pharmacy.

Not anymore.

One by one, he dumped everything into the toilet. Powder dissolved into the water. Pills sank to the bottom. He hesitated at the last baggie of meth—Jesse's old product, weak and impure. No wonder Walter took over so easily.

Flushing it all away felt like reclaiming control.

His hands trembled as he gripped the sink. Withdrawal is going to suck, he realized. Jesse had been using regularly—weed, meth, whatever he could get his hands on. But no matter how bad it got, he wouldn't touch the stuff again.

He needed a clear mind.

He splashed water on his face, looking at his reflection. Jesse's face. His face.

One month until Walter White comes looking.

He had to be ready.