NO WAY IN HELL! (P2) - Gothic Trauma

NO WAY IN HELL! p2: Gothic Trauma - Chapter Two

Marilyn's POV:

Staring at myself through the expensive motel mirror was fun I guess.

The reflection of an Antichrist just started back into my prosthetic coated eyes, he was me now, and I couldn't do anything but smile at it. Power. That's what I have now. I control fear.

I've come a long way since High School, a very long way. Last year after the project Marilyn Manson and the Spooky Kids, we finally got signed to a record. Thankyou to Trent Reznor, and we just blew up. Our names were on the front of the newspapers, our reports and labels were advertised in the rock magazines, and our statements were recorded and reprimanded by the political eye, yet it only gave me confidence to object to the taught moral standards.

We've been performing ever since. Stephen, Daisy, Ginger, Twiggy and I.

I met others along the way, but they never really played as perfect as I wanted them to. So now, it's all of us. Old friends. We may be in a band, but we're sure as hell not getting any closer.

I reach my long, slender and pale fingers up to brush a light strand of hair from my face, still staring back at myself.

Finally bored, I turn around to walk out.
Tomorrow we have a show, and I need to get shit sorted.
Making my way out of my trashed hotel room, I walk down the hallway to room 23a, and pound my fist into the door, a few cracks were present, and as soon as I heard footsteps approaching the door, I put my guard up.

There he was. The little doll. Now a part of Marilyn Manson. He wasn't originally going to be a part, but Daisy had managed to convince him, and here he is, completely lost of his old childhood confidence from back in High School.

His eyes gleamed with a small amount of fear and curiosity, and his spirit just shrunk in front of me, and I smirked, rolling my shoulders.

"Twiggy" I spoke, my voice deep and rough. He swallowed.

"We have a show tomorrow" I stated. And he did nothing but stare back at me, boiling rage through my veins. Is he really going to play dumb with me? Right now?

"Do you have any fucking idea what I mean?!" I roared. Finally raising my voice, making him jump back and his eyes water. He shook his head, and I rolled my eyes, getting a glimpse of my white contact lens, shit, I didn't put it in properly.

"Fucks sakes, we have band practice, right now, so get your fucking shit and let's go!" I growled, shoving my index finger into his chest, the same thing he let Stephen do to me.

Twiggy nodded and ran back into his room to get his things, while he did so, I went and knocked on every other band members door, shouting that it was band practice.

In less than 10 minutes we were all outside the hotel, climbing our way into the tour bus without any questions.

Stephen went in first, jaw clenched, his big fists holding his keyboards, and he only looked straight ahead. Ignoring everybody else's presence.

We don't talk, he won't let go of what happened nearly five years ago. When he does mention something to me is when he's throwing insults or when he's high.

Daisy followed, head down, guitar case in hand, then Ginger. With just his drum sticks. His kit was in the back of the bus.

And there was the doll again, he made his way up the stairs, careful not to trip over, yet he was skittish and eager to get away from my presence.

Smiling, I then made my way up, picking my hand up to wave at our bus driver. He waved back, and started the bus.

We're currently in Chicago, and tomorrow we'll be playing a show in one of the big arenas. Honestly, I never remembered any of the names of the places we were going, even if I managed to grow up near we were.