Shielded.

Chapter 4

When the show is over, I'm practically soaked in my sweat, Kennedy's sweat, and almost everyone's who was there.

Gidget waves Kennedy and I to come to the backstage.

When we enter, the smell of hard liquor, sweat, make up, and a mixture of drugs fills the air and hits me hard.

I guess I must have made a facial expression at the smell because Marilyn Manson seen it and said What's the matter? Kennedy? Did you bring us a good girl?

Kennedy: Far from it. You guys play nice.

Kennedy exits the room with Gidget.

Oh god why did she leave me here alone oh my god what do I do I am so scared and-

"Want some?" Manson asks me, pointing to the lines of coke laying on the table.

"What? Oh. No. No thanks. I'm fine."

"You're scared." Manson says, then snorts half a line of coke.

"No. I'm not scared."

"You're scared. Of us. I can tell. You won't even sit down, and if you did, you'd most likely choose that chair that's the farthest away from us."

I glance over to chair. I glance back.

I can't answer. I don't know how.

"Why are you scared? Sit down. We don't bite."

I sit down. My palms are clammy, and so I wipe them on my shorts.

Twiggy looks at me. Grins and lays his head on my shoulder and rocks slowly back and forth.

What the actual fuck are these people and where the hell is Kennedy.

Kennedy comes back. And I am ultimately relieved.

"Your friend is scared, Kennedy." Manson says, downing a pill with some liquor.

"No I'm not." I snap back.

Twiggy looks up at me, he is completely dazed out.

"Sassy. I can tell this isn't your first time around drugs. That's why you're nervous. But don't worry, we won't force feed you any unless you want us to." Manson winks and grabs my cheek. Another shot of liquor: down.

"Hey lighten up," Kennedy says, "hit a joint, do something. Just chill out. Here."

Zsa Zsa passes me a joint.

I take a few hits, and Manson seems surprised. I blow the smoke in Twiggy's direction.

"There we go. Now, what's your name?"

I look over to Manson, "Charlie Thompson."

"Age?"

"18."

"Even better."

"How is that better?"

He ignores my question.

Twiggy gets up, there's drool on my shoulder.

Seriously what the hell

"Sorry." He says, and walks away.

"Tell me about yourself, Charlie Thompson."

"What's there to tell? I'm still in high school, and my life is shit."

He chuckles.

"You know there are starving children out there somewhere in Florida?"

Gidget shouts "AND LIKE YOU CARE BRIAN."

"Oh you're right. By the way, my real name isn't Marilyn Manson. It's Brian. And Twiggy's name isn't Twiggy. Just like everyone else's name here isn't what it actually is." He pokes my nose and grins.

Okay then.