Chapter 3 Justin POV: The destruction of the Teen Dream.

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Just landed in Miami. I've had no sleep and could honestly use a horse tranquilizer to knock me out. But I'm here for a good time,not a long time right? I'm gonna hook up with my boy Khalil and hopefully some pretty lil Miami cuties. Being Justin Bieber has it's perks, ya know? After my very public break up with Sel...I just couldn't take this shit anymore. I hated the spotlight, hated the paps, detested my manager Scooter, and especially my damn mother and her lecturing me. God this and Jesus that...just give me some weed to smoke and some nice tits to hold. Yeah...I'm a fuckboy at his finest. I've decided that's my new lifestyle. To be honest, it's alot of damn fun. Party all night with fake friends and fake girls. Lots of booze. Lots of drugs. Lots of almost dying really. Waking up in my own urine or vomit is loads of fun. I actually woke up last week on my bathroom floor covered in my own piss and some rando chick came walking in asking if she could suck me off. Even a fuckboy has limits. That shit did not happen.
So after hanging out at the hotel, I hooked up with Khalil and he introduced me to Chantell. Gorgeous girl, nice smile, and tight body. To bad she had absolutely nothing going on upstairs. Didn't matter though, I wasn't interested in getting to know her.
We were having a good time. I rented a yellow Lamborghini and Khalil got a red Ferrari. We hot boxed in my body guards SUV and popped some Xanax that went down nicely with some top shelf tequila. It was easy to shut out the real Justin that way.
I remember feeling amazing. Channel or Chantell had her hands all over me. I liked the way her lips tasted, kinda like rainbows.  If rainbows had a taste...the drugs were definitely in full swing. But then I thought of  Sels lips and how they always tasted like mint. That brought my high spiralling down quick. So I decided we needed to up the fun and quickly. So naturally I suggested drag racing. Nobody would object...I'm Justin Bieber. I could see it in my body guards eyes, they didn't like it. But they sure as hell didn't say one word. They knew better!
The drag racing didn't last long. The paps found us and then the cops approached. I just wanted to enjoy my fucking high and the pretty what's her name with me. Why did everyone have to ruin my fun?
These uppity cops had the nerve to frisk me. They were acting like they didn't know who I was. It didn't click how serious it was until the hand cuffs were slapped around my wrists and I was being placed in the patrol car. Of course the paps were there catching it all. FML...Scooter and my mother Pattie were gonna love this.
At the police station, the high I was on came crashing down and my anxiety went to an all time high. I felt disgusted with myself. I hated myself and at one point, I wanted to die. As the police were booking me, I finally thought about all my beliebers. They were the only good left in me. I knew they would be crushed by this. I hated myself even more. I smiled as they took my mug shot, I smiled for them. To let them know, they still mattered. I could care less about myself, but I was devastated that I was about to let them down. That night alone in my cell, I wept for everything I lost. My whole world was about to drastically change. Justin Bieber was going to be buried. I let my depression and anxiety consume me. I couldn't even save myself. That night, alone and cold...I just kept repeating "save me,save me,save me".
It was my cry out into the darkness. I was begging for some light. Someone to save me from myself.

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