Chapter Sixty

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OMFG JUSTIN FOLLOWED ME ON TWITTER AND I COULDN'T BREATHE OMFG I LOVE HIM SO MUCH LIKE I CAN'T I WAS SO HAPPY TYSM TO @inkjustin BECAUSE SHE ADDED ME IN A DM WITH HIM AND THEN HE FOLLOWED ME AND YA :))))))) (my twitter is @SpaceshipBieber)

^my Twitter is now @RestoreBizzle (come back to life bizzle pls I miss u ❤️)

Enjoy loves!!!

Songs for this chapter are:

Where are Ü Now - Skrillex and Diplo ft. Justin Bieber

You and I - One Direction

Crazy - Shawn Mendes

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Justin's POV

It's been two months of on-going letters and the occasional phone call, thanks to Mop Head.

The institution diagnosed me with Sadistic Personality Disorder, Bipolar Disorder and Intermittent Explosive Disorder.

Intermittent Explosive Disorder was something I hadn't been familiar with.  I knew I was sadistic, and my gang always mentioned my bipolar actions, however IED was never something mentioned.

Apparently it involves repeated episodes of impulsive, aggressive, violent behavior or angry verbal outbursts in which you react grossly out of proportion to the situation.  Which, I must agree to.  This disease can also make you very possessive over things - or people - and can involve in many violent acts to protect them.

Although I hated this place, they knew me and they knew what they were talking about.  I was on many different medications and went through different type of psychotherapy to help.  I was angry a lot, which is supposed to be normal as the medication is supposed to bring the disease forward so they can address it in therapy.  Other medications that I took relaxed my brain and made me feel oddly peaceful.

The nurses and therapists were ... nice I guess. They handled my outbursts and didn't judge my erratic behaviour towards them.  By erratic I mean being an asshole.

"Get the fuck out of here before I rip your throat out with my bare hands." I growled lowly at Francesca, my 'nurse.'

She rolled her eyes, "what did we say about threatening people, Justin?"

"I don't fucking remember, am I supposed to be a computer?" I snapped.

"It was less than two days ago."

"Yes, and it will take me less than two seconds to have you bleeding to death on these hideous floors.  Seriously, who designed this place, Helen Keller?"  I spat and Francesca gave me a warning look.

Grumbling under my breath, I sit back onto my bed.  "How was your therapy session?" She asked, placing my slop on the desk.

"None of your fucking business,"  I didn't mind Francesca, she was kind and normal but today I was in a shitty mood.  Fuck rod couldn't make it because he was flying out to Atlanta for some business trip and I didn't get my weekly phone call with her or my letter. I had one ready to give to him but he had told Dr. Piekarski he couldn't make it.

Dr. Piekarski usually helped us as well, but due to his 'heroic' act at 'helping' Brooke in the hospital, the government awarded him and his wife a holiday in Hawaii.  He apologized endlessly to me but I didn't mind at all.  No one else is able to help us considering her parents keep her as far away as possible from anyone who could be remotely related to me.

Luckily, Brooke and one of her friends moved out into an apartment closer to NYU, where the dean was so thrilled to have her attending.  Who wouldn't want to have Brooke, they advertised a young girl who was just kidnapped by a monster's success story.

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