The Lake House [ Justin Bieber ]

twenty four.

Ana

I couldn't stop shaking. Getting into Lisa's car, driving to the hospital. As I signed in as a visitor and walked down the halls, it just wouldn't stop. Out of excitement, anxiety and a little bit of undeniable fear.

"Justin's been waiting for you," The tiny nurse smiled up at me. "Hasn't stopped talking about you all day. He's a little hopped up right now; it's the only way to keep him serene."

"Has he been aggressive at all?"

"Surprisingly, no. But his moods have been up and down. He's holding in a lot of stress. This is all so new to him so it's not uncommon. The meds calm him down so he can eat his meals and sleep peacefully. We want to make him as comfortable as possible as he gets used to everything." She smiled again. "He's one of our more pleasurable patients. Head right into that room."

I stepped up to the door she pointed to, taking a deep breath before turning the knob. The blinds were drawn shut so there was only dim light. Justin lay out on the bed, eyes shut and arms hooked up to an IV bag. I frowned at the sight of him like this; my eyes stung.

His opened slowly, just barely, dazed eyes traveling over to me. "Ana-" He breathed, moving to sit up.

"Hey," I whispered, reaching over and pushing him back down. "Don't get up."

Rejecting my help, he pushed himself back up against his pillows. Breathing heavily, he said, "I didn't think you'd come." The words were sluggish.

"I promised you. I'm sorry I'm so late." I kept whispering, as if I were scared to speak any louder. The air in the room was calm. As calm as it could be when my boyfriend was drugged and I was terrified. "How are you?"

"I'm okay." His breathing was shallow. "Just really tired." He looked so child-like and innocent. It brought on a new sense of hurt in me. I sat at a cushioned chair next to the bed, slipping my hand into Justin's. "What about you?" He asked.

I chuckled bitterly. "I've been better. Have the doctors been good?"

Justin licked his lips. "Borderline Personality Disorder." He stared up at the ceiling. "There are severe cases and mild cases. You're looking at a severe case. They told me I get so angry and irrational, I become a different person." His eyes slipped shut.

I couldn't help the crying. This situation was suddenly more real than ever. Justin had a mental illness and it was serious. No matter how normal he tried to live his life, from here on out nothing would be the same.

I swallowed, giving myself time to think of something to say. But there was nothing to say. "Justin...." I pulled my hands from his, placing mine against my mouth.

"I get it, Ana." Justin said quietly.

"No, you don't. I really don't understand how we got to this point. Three days ago, nothing was like this." I sighed, pressing my fingers to my forehead. "But I'm not going to apologize." I said softly. "Because I know I did the right thing. You need help. And now you're getting it."

We were silent for a while. Justin's eyes kept slipping shut with tears, the inside of his lip getting caught between his teeth. I watched him with sadness. He was confined to this bed, confined to this life now, because of me.

"I think..." He said slowly after a while. "That this is good for me. Obviously there are issues that run through my family. It wasn't fair to me that Richard just ignored what was obvious out of denial."

I murmured in agreement. "Do they think your mom has anything to do with this?"

Justin licked his lips again. "PTSD can be a lifelong thing. It can often stem other mental disorders over time." He said as if he were reading from a script. "I've been through all of this evaluation bullshit before. I don't get why they couldn't find this nine fucking years ago to save time."