Long Hard Road Out Of Hell (Marilyn Manson) ON HOLD

Dried Up Tied And Dead To The World

"Wait, so you're telling me the mic stand gave you a fractured skull?!" I screamed as Ginger Fish finished telling the story of his time in Marilyn Manson and the Spooky Kids. I had somehow started talking to the band again and it seemed Kenneth was the only one who actually wanted to talk to me.

"Yup," he said casually. "I'm fine though."

"Well..." I said, looking him up and down and raising my eyebrow slightly. He stuck his tongue out at me playfully.

"Shit, is that the time?" He said, looking at his phone. "I gotta get home, it was lovely meeting you though."

"You too," I replied whilst accidentally spitting out a mixture of alcohol and ready salted crisps I'd gotten from behind the bar into his general direction.

I looked around with my fuzzy vision and saw that a lot of people had left. Hayley wasn't here anymore, Brendon wasn't, and neither was Pogo and John. I shrugged and went to get another drink.

"Don't you think you should be stopping now?" Nathan asked me once I'd sat down at the bar.

"Why, how much have I drunk?" He showed me the tab and I nearly choked. "Okay, yeah, you're right." I said, nodding my head. "I'm gonna find Manson, I kinda wanna go now. It was great to meet you." I said to him. Wow, I was saying that to someone else. The majority of the people I've met have said that to me, not the other way around.

"Same to you. Make sure you get Marilyn to call a cab, there's no way he's going to drive. I'm off my shift now, but if for some reason you can't control him, just ask Rose, the girl who's taking over from me. She has bright red hair, you can't miss her."

I thanked Nathan and started stumbling around the dimly lit room, trying to find Manson. I looked at my phone. Christ, it was 2:45am. If I was at home I'd still be awake, but the fact that I was out of the house at this time made me feel like a little kid who gets to stay up late because they're on holiday. I circled the room twice but couldn't find him. I then thought whether he was in the bathroom, and waited a bit longer. After 10 minutes of waiting around I got a bit worried, but not soon after I saw him heading towards the main doors with Twiggy. I thought he said he wasn't coming tonight? I started walking towards them as fast as I could in my 5 inch stiletto heels.

"Manson," I said, but he didn't hear me. "Manson!" I said again, but louder this time. He still didn't turn around. He was making a b-line towards the doors and seemed to get faster every time I called his name. "Marilyn!" I screamed, getting more and more desperate with each step he took.

Shit. Fuck. Oh my God, oh my fucking God, he's trying to leave me here. He's gonna fucking abandon me here.

I started running across the sticky dance floor, caked with old alcohol and sweat. It didn't help that I couldn't see or walk straight and I accidentally crashed into a guy carrying a couple drinks. One of them fell out of his hands and smashed onto the floor.

"Oh my God I'm so sorry," I apologised whilst trying not to let the anxiety overcome me, and looked up to who I made waste a drink. Channing Tatum. Channing fucking Tatum.

"Wait, how did you get in here? You look like, 13." I ignored the urge to punch this amazingly attractive man in the throat for being so ignorant and instead ignored his comment and jogged towards the front doors, but I couldn't see Manson any more. Oh God, this is actually happening isn't it? As I was running through the maze of corridors I looked out the massive window and saw him walking down the street with Twiggy.

I flung the doors open and stepped into the cold, but not as cold as England, California air and looked around frantically when I saw Manson getting into a taxi, or cab as the Americans say, and watched helplessly as it drove away. All I could do was stand there, staring at the space that the car was not two seconds ago.