This Is Where It Falls Apart.

Chapter Two

And here I was. She signed the papers giving them permission to admit me here. I got visits from her once a month, but every time she came, it was basically a one sided conversation. Just her, sitting there, asking how I was, swearing I'd get better, how much she loved me and missed me, blah blah blah. I heard it enough. I was scheduled to see a therapist/psychiatrist five days a week, just to report in about how I was doing. But I never spoke there either. Or, rarely spoke.

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* * * "You know, Justin, you are going to have to talk eventually. It's the only way I can help you" Dr. Hewitt spoke, sitting behind his desk and staring at me.

My focus was on my hands that were placed on my lap as I sat there. The bandage was still around my wrist, and I found myself eying it a lot. It made me remember what happened.

"The sooner you talk, the sooner you can be out of here. We just want to help you" he added.

"I don't want to... Look, it happened, and I can't change it" I spoke, looking up at him for the first time during this session.

This had to have been the twentieth session, and those were the first words I spoke in weeks.

"You need to talk about it, or no one can help" he repeated.

"Can I get my bandage removed?" I asked, eying the white wrap around my wrist.

"Will it help you to see the wound you inflicted on yourself? Will it make you discuss the night you did it?" he questioned.

Once more, I fell silent. Having the bandage on or off wouldn't make me discuss it. I was just sick of seeing it. We sat there for the last fifteen minutes of the session in complete silence before he excused me and had me escorted back to my room. * * *

* * * * * * * *

A week later, they removed my bandage. There were stitches there, sealing the wound which had healed over. I could see the scar. The white, jagged scar that would last a lifetime there. They cut the stitches out a few days later, and I felt as though part of me was free. Just not from here clearly. Sitting in my room, I eyed the scar again. Seeing it reminded me of the night I did it. Just days before my seventeenth birthday. We had a huge bash planned, and part of me -make that all of me- didn't want it. I didn't want any of it anymore. None of the fame, or the craziness. No more crazed fans. No more stalkers. No more haters. I was done, literally. I could only imagine the headlines that came out though after this happened. It didn't bother me if anyone thought I was crazy. Maybe I was. I mean, hey, I'm here in the nut house, aren't I?

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After another two weeks, clocking me in at a months time of being here, they decided to let me free of my cage to join the other suicidal or crazy teens for group therapy. They claimed it was therapeutic. Not me. I didn't want to interact with anyone here to be honest. I had never met or seen any of the other teens here. I was a closely guarded secret in this place. They made sure no one else saw me, let alone knew I was here. I wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing to be honest. As I sat in my room, on my bed, just gazing out the window, I paid no attention to anything going on outside of my open door behind me.

"Hey kid" a voice called.

I didn't look or acknowledge whomever it was. I had a feeling it was one of the nurses. Fuck them. I was sick of being here, as if I was one of their test subjects. I could hear feet shuffling over to me, and someone immediately blocked my view by standing in front of me.

"Excuse me" I snarled, looking up at their face.

His brown eyes locked with mine as he stared down at me. His features were a lot like mine. Big, brown eyes. Shaggy brown hair and brownish, thin eyebrows. Small, detailed nose. Full lips, and soft looking ones might I add. His skin was pale, but flawless. He was tall though, unlike me. I must have been a whole six or seven inches shorter than him. But he was definitely lanky. Skinny as could be. I swore, he could literally hide behind a pole, like you see cartoon characters do on a regular basis.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I block the rock stars view?" he scuffed.

"Do you mind getting the fuck out of my way and out of my room?" I shot.

"Do you think anyone is going to treat you like they did out there?" he questioned, gesturing to the window with his right hand. "This isn't your celebrity lifestyle. So you better adjust your attitude. Mouth off to the wrong person, you'll be in deep shit"

"You don't know shit about me. So kindly fuck off now" I snapped, standing up after.

"You're Justin Bieber. Teen sensation! So what the fuck are you doing here? Did you kick someones ass? Get mixed up in drugs? I doubt it" he insulted.

I was tired of hearing any remarks about my former life. I wasn't a celeb. I didn't want to be, ever again.

"It's none of your business, so leave!" I shouted.

"Is there a problem here?" a male stepped in.

"None at all. Just getting acquainted with the newbie" the kid spoke, eying me again.

"Come on, Ryan. It's time for group, and you're not supposed to be in here" the male doctor spoke back.

"See you around, Bieber" Ryan smirked, walking out of my room after.

"Come on, Justin. We'll escort you to the group session".

There was no way I wanted to join anyone in this nut house. After that confrontation, I didn't want to deal with anyone else. My gut instinct told me Ryan was going to be trouble for me. If he hated me, or anything about me, he would find ways to make my life hell. Not that my life wasn't already hell being here, but I was positive it could get worse.

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