Marshall's P.O.V.
Standing up on that stage, all I can see is ants in the back.
I ain't never thought I would ever grow to be this huge but yet, somehow I have.
All these people shouting my name, ain't even gonna lie, it's like a fucking drug and a huge boost to my ego.
" Slim Shady!!"
"Eminem!!"
"Marshall!!"
"I love you!!"
"You are the best!!"
Various shouts come from the crowd as I grab the mic, gripping it tight in both of my hands as I start to rap.
I don't make no eye contact with the audience for a while, just doing my thing and being in this trance like state.
Until DeShaun lightly taps me on the shoulder, breaking me out of whatever daze I was just in. He's on stage here with me, acting as my hype man and shit.
And I know that he's right in what he's trying to insinuate to me. I do gotta connect with my fans, they the ones that made me this big after all.
I smirk and look into the crowd.
Mostly consisting of young blonde white girls.
There some dudes there too, but yeah, ladies really like them some Slim Shady.
My alter ego I had come up with while sitting on a john one day.
Bleached my hair to further that image too.
Now that's all everybody ever wants, they all want Shady, I'm chopped liver.
Oh well. As long as they want some part of me, I guess.
I adjust the white hockey mask on my face and continue to rap into the mic, occasionally picking up the chainsaw prop laying on the stage and waving it at the crowd, causing shrieks and delighted squeals to emanate from them.
I talk about doing drugs, killing sluts, raping my own mother, and the audience just eats it all up.
When I poor a bottle of water over my head, the bitches at the bottom of the stage go crazy, It's really doing it for them, I guess. Something as simple as a motherfucker pouring a bottle of water over his head simply because he's uncomfortably hot from jumpikg up and down on stage all day and needed to cool off. I could have a pick of any of them sluts once the show is over. As long as they are of age, of course.
I've been going like this for years, ever since I blew up. I went from being a nobody, a white trailer park trash to one of the biggest rap superstars, and I should be fucking happy.
Yet, something is missing.
Something is wrong, and I don't know what it is, can't quite put my finger on it.
My life feels artificial somehow, like it's all a dream. A cruel fucking joke, and I have no idea why.
Not to mention, I keep thinking I must be forgetting something. Something real important to me, but what is it?!
YOU ARE READING
3am (Eminem / Slim Shady Fanfic)
Hayran Kurgu⚠️TRIGGER WARNING⚠️: smut, violence and very questionable consent or lack of consent altogether... Also, this book literally makes no goddamn sense whatsoever so read at your own risk. Anyways... What would you do if you found out that your boyfrie...