This Is Where It Falls Apart.

Chapter One.

"Justin?"

A voice echoed through my ears, but it barely seemed to register with my brain.

"Justin? Can you hear me?" the female voice spoke, sounding frantic.

My eyes wouldn't open and it was as if I couldn't move my body. Nothing was registering with my brain. It was as if I was paralyzed. I could hear screams, and frantic cries for help, but it was as though I was in a comatose state. No movement. No reaction. No matter how hard I tried.

"Call 911, hurry!" a woman yelled.

"Is he alive?" I heard a male voice question.

"We need medical attention sent to the hotel..."

That was the last thing I remembered hearing.

* * * * * *
Staring out the barred window, I watched the trees swaying outside from the violent winds that were blowing through. There was no escaping this place. It was like prison. Only here, no one murdered anyone or committed acts of violence... Well, unless you count those things against these people for doing it to themselves. Everyone here was basically crazy. Off their rockers. Loony. You get the point I think. I knew why I was here, but I wouldn't say that I was crazy. I guess the fame was what made me do it. The fame was crazy. Big difference. When you get as famous as I am, or was, at the age of sixteen, let me know how sane you can remain. The girls, the millions of them, I felt as though they stalked my every move. Wherever I went, someone would find me, and madness would ensue. It didn't matter where I was, or when, someone would find me. Paris, Tokyo, Germany, the United States, Canada... I'd seen it all, and went everywhere. Yet no matter where I went, it was as though I couldn't get away from myself. So I had attempted to put an end to it all. All of the chaos, the celebrity status, the fame, and the fortune. I wanted to end who I was. I just didn't want to be 'Justin Bieber the Popstar'. I wanted my normal life. My childhood. I didn't want to be this anymore... Justin Bieber no longer existed as far as I was concerned. Not the famous one. Now, I was just 'Justin Bieber, the nutcase'...

* * * * * *

"Justin?" a unfamiliar voice called.

Forcing my brain to function and send a signal to my eyelids, they opened, allowing my eyes to meet with bright lights and walls. The whole room was white, and it hurt my eyes to look at it. My eyes felt heavy, as if they hadn't been open in months. Everything was a blur to me at first, slowing coming into focus after and allowing me to adjust to my surroundings. There was a man standing next to my bed, wearing a white jacket, and a name tag. He smiled softly at me.

"We thought we lost you there for a while. Thankfully, you're going to be alright" he spoke.

Eying his name tag, it read Dr Thomas. What the...?

"Where am I?" I spoke, dryly, feeling my throat ache.

It felt like sandpaper.

"You're in the hospital. Don't you remember what happened?" Dr. Thomas questioned.

Raising my right hand, I rubbed my head but felt something poke the top of my hand. Pulling my hand away, I realized the I.V. that was stuck in my vein, hydrating me basically from the drip that was attached by tubes. That was when my eyes focused on what was below my hand, wrapped around my wrist, almost like a neon sign. It all came back to me when I saw that white bandage around my wrist..

* * * * * * * *

I knew why I did it, but no one else knew. I refused to discuss it. Almost as though it was a secret that I wanted to keep between me, and well... myself. It was as though I didn't trust anyone anymore. When I thought back to all the questions and how quickly not giving a proper response got me to where I am now. The nut house. Where all the crazies go and possibly stay forever if they don't change.

* * * * * * *

"Why did you do this, Justin?" my mother asked, tears streaming down her cheeks as she held my left hand.

Looking away, I eyed the hospital ceiling again, as I did for all the hours out of the day that I was awake. This wasn't the first time I had been questioned about this. And I gave the same response each time. Silence. Pure silence.

"Justin... please. Tell me why you did this?" she begged again.

My focus remained on the ceiling, barely blinking or moving. Sobs escaped her as she sat there, and after many 'I love yous' escaped her lips and all of the 'you are better than this' statements, she gave up. She knew I wasn't going to reply, just as I hadn't the dozens of other times.

* * * * * * *

Apparently, me not complying with anyone and acting catatonic, everyone gave up. Well, at least family and the hospital did. They booted my ass out, telling me, along with my mom, that they would place me in a place where I "belonged". Yeah, because I truly did belong here. I was crazy. I had lost it. I was dangerous to myself according to them and my charts.

* * * * * * *

"We've decided it's best to send you to a facility that can help you with these problems and discuss what is bothering you, Justin" the doctor encouraged as my mom stood by his side.

I stared at them, seemingly unfazed though.

"You refuse to talk to anyone close to you. You haven't truly talked in days. And your mother can't handle this, or help if you refuse to talk. So she has agreed to send you to a psychiatric hospital to get the help you need" he explained.

There was no reaction on my behalf. Why should I? Even if I said I didn't want to go, they wouldn't listen. It made no difference. The doctor handed my mother some papers and excused himself after. Tears filled her eyes again as she held the papers in her hands and looked at me.

"I'm so sorry, Justin" she cried. "I just don't know what to do with you anymore. You won't talk to me... You won't tell me anything about why you did this... I can't handle it".

My brown eyes stayed focused on her as she stood there, but I didn't react. I just stared as if it said it all in my eyes.

"You're sick, Justin. And you need help that I can't physically give you... And this is why I'm sending you there. So you can get better and come back to me" she continued.

Instantly, I turned away, once more putting my focus on the ceiling again, as I always seemed to do. She came to my bed side, looking down at me, but I refused to look at her.

"I'll see you soon, Justin. I promise. I know you'll get better, and you'll be home soon. I have faith in you, and God. He saved you, and he'll do it again" she spoke, only attempting to reassure herself I was sure.

Leaning over, she placed a kiss on my forehead and pulled back after.

"I love you" she added.

Still no response from me. She left shortly after, and I let her go. There was nothing that could be said anymore.

"Goodbye..." I whispered, as I still eyed the ceiling.

* * * * * * *