SONG IMAGINES. (MARILYN MANSON)

Tourniquet & Devour.

A/n: Let me know if you guys like this one (that star helps;) . I'm not so sure myself. Anyways... remember, I take request or suggestions. Just DM or comment.
:)
Not sure what's next. ♡♡♡

Losing someone isn't easy. Losing the one person who supported you and your dreams can break your soul. Loretta was learning this the hard way. She had never asked for any of this, and in this moment she was beginning to feel like her whole world was crashing down around her. She struggled with coping, and thought to her self that she couldn't handle the pressures of the world. She found solace at the bottom of bottles: alcohol and pills alike. The light that use to shine so bright in her began to wither and dull away...

Brian had never seen her like this either. It was like she had been replaced with a robot: a lifeless and gray. He had described her in his journal recently as being made of only hair and bone and little teeth, How she acted only as a crippled plaything and spineless. It hurt him to describe her this way.
When she wasn't chasing pills with alcohol, she was either sleeping or Staring out the window. She picked at her food, not quite eating anything, but apparently enough to keep her barely alive. But, those moments in which she did smile, held the glimmer of who she once was.
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I sat on the floor in this dingy hotel next to the bed. My stuff, along with the other guys littered everywhere.
Clothes, Beer cans, take-out boxes. We've only been here for a day and it already looks like we've been here for months. We had an off day today, and a show tomorrow night before we left the city, so all the guys on the Marilyn Manson tour decided to go out and explore the bar scene.

This wasn't our first time being on tour with them, we'd actually become quite close them, both of us originating out of Fort Lauderdale, Florida.

But, with all that being said, I had no interest in bar hopping or getting shit faced in public. I wanted to sit in here, and drink alone to Bridezillas. Lately, the only thing that made me happy was performing on stage.

Other than that, I wanted nothing to do with the world, not since losing my best friend. I grabbed the bottle of cheap rum out of my backback, taking a swig. The clear liquid burned my tongue.

I walked over to the bathroom, greatful to be boy free for the moment, I washed my face the best I could with the soap and water, and threw on an oversized band shirt.

Grabbing the bottle on the way back to my bed, I took another swig, welcoming the familiar burn. I sat down on the bed, looking over at a pill bottle, that would numb the pain.

Oxycodone.

It stared at me in the face, almost begging me to take one. Charles hadn't noticed the last time I borrowed one...