Leave A Scar||Marilyn Manson Love Story

Long Hard Road Out Of Hell

Oh My Sweet Marilyn Manson.... OVER 500 READS!!! You guys are so amazing!

I'm sad to say that this book is almost over.... But don't worry! I already have a sequel in mind! There's only a few more chapters left in this story. As soon as I publish the last chapter, the Sequel will be announced, and published after a few hours :D

Image is of the cover for the second book~

Sorry for such a long Authors Note, and for a short chapter. This is really more of a filler than anything else, the big stuff will be happening soon.... ;)

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"Part of me is afraid to get close to people because I'm afraid that they're going to leave." -Marilyn Manson

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Three days. Three days since I woke up, and I finally have had most of my memory back. It's taken a lot of work, and a lot of stories from Shari and Marilyn. Though I still feel like I'm forgetting something big in my life. Every time I look at the scars on my arms, I feel like I should know why I cut myself, but I can't remember the reason. Marilyn wont tell me, and neither will Shari or my father.

My dreams have become strange, as if it were another universe. I was still in the dark, but I could feel the difference in the people that talked. The voices were the same, yet telling me different things.

Besides that and the few forgotten words, I seem to be back to normal. The doctor's were amazed. "It's a miracle..." They claimed. Marilyn had his own theory.

He kept playing his music for me, all of the songs on my phone and iPod. He had this strange notion that music was a form of magic, that it could heal all wounds. Even though he's 26 years older than me, I didn't have the heart to correct him. To tell him that sometimes, music wasn't enough.

Marilyn would talk about time's we spent together, painting, talking, drinking. He would describe them in great detail before laughing at something funny. I went along with him. When the truth was... as each day passed, my memories of my time with him started to fade.

I could no longer remember the first song I heard about him, or the first time we met. I couldn't remember how I got here, or where I came from.

I remember the people, the faces, but never the moments.

Even though I told him I remembered, and he believed me, I knew that I was slowly loosing my memory all over again.

The doctors were wrong, I wasn't getting better. I was getting worse.

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A heart beat. Soft breathing. I wake up to this every morning. Opening my eyes, I'm met with the image of Marilyn sleeping soundly next to me, his arm draped over my waist, the black silk sheets wrapped around our bodies in a cocoon.

Marilyn had cancelled the first two months of his tour, the fans were sad, but happy to know that everything was okay. I somehow managed to convince Marilyn to send everyone who had pre-bought tickets to see him, signed t-shirts. I think the fans fell in love with me even more just for that.

Shortly after the cancellation, I was healed enough to fly. Which made Marilyn act like a child on Christmas morning. When the plane landed, it hadn't even come to a full stop when he asked me to stay with him. Not move in, but just stay until he left on tour.

According to Abby, there's not much difference.

Our house is empty all the time anyways, she's always over at Miguel's.

But waking up next to Marilyn, every day, for the past couple of days, has made me realize just how much I adore him. I have studied each indent and scar on his face, each contour of his jaw. I've traced his tattoos with my fingers, and kisses each self-inflicted scar on his torso.

I knew just about every inch of this man, and yet I could remember nothing that we have done.

No one knows about my messed up memory, and I'd like to keep it that way. I just keep hoping that it'll heal over time, and I'll start to remember everything again.

"Go back to sleep Kyrsten. It's too early." Marilyn rasps, his morning voice hoarse, causing shivers to run through me. The sound awoke a deep longing within me, and now that I had that feeling in my grasp, I wasn't going to let it go.

"Oh Brian... how am I to sleep when there is such an amazing man laying next to me?" His lips curl into his dazzling smile as he opens one eye to look at me.

"The same way I can sleep next to a breathtaking beautiful woman like yourself." He rolls onto his back, closing his eye once more, taking a deep breath as his arms stretch above his head.

Thinking it's an opportune moment, I slide myself to sit on his waist, my knees on either side of him as I place my hands on his bare chest. The only thing between our sexes is the thin layer of his boxers and my lace panties. "It must be hard for you Brian..." I whisper as I lean down and kiss his ear-lobe softly.

His breath catches slightly before his eyes burst open, his hands lowering to rest on my hips. "It's always hard when I see your beautiful face." I grin and kiss from his ear, along his jaw and to the corner of his lips.

"So is it still too early, meleth nin (My love)?" Marilyn smirks and turns his head just enough to kiss my lips softly.

"It's never too early for you. Elvish? Yes, you? No."

I grin and press my lips back to his. "Then what are you waiting for, my God of Fuck?" He flips us over, my legs wrapping around his waist, as if on instinct.

He brushes his lips against the skin on my neck, his tongue flicking out every once in a while. "I was waiting for my Goddess."