Hey, Cruel World - (Marilyn Manson)

Now I Got Something You Have To See

  I took my eyes off of my fingers as I played one of the studio's acoustic guitars, recording the last part of one of the new songs, and looked up as I continued to strum slowly. It was late Friday afternoon, November eighth, and the five of us would be going to the Nine Inch Nails concert that night. This song was almost done being recording. I was the last part they needed, and we were going to head back to the apartment as soon as I finished. I had definitely been enjoying every last second of being a part of the band, playing music had always been one of the only things I had a true passion for. I'd been taking my school work with me and speeding through it quickly in the mornings, and then recording in the afternoons. I'd always been very good and quick in school and at teaching myself things easily, and I'd begun to work my hardest to graduate early.
  When I looked up and through the glass where the guys sat on the other side, I was surprised. I almost lost my rhythm as I played, but managed to not mess it up as I looked through at them, frowning. I'd never seen this before...Twiggy had his head bent, looking down, and Ginger stood, staring into the room where I sat, though not at me. Marilyn and Zim though...they stood there, and although I could not hear them, I could tell that they were shouting at each other very loudly. Both of their faces displayed anger. Marilyn's was full of rage, like I'd never seen before in the way it was now, and Zim's the same, though different in his own way. Marilyn lifted his finger and stuck it in Zim's chest, and I felt my heart squeeze.
  I had to tear my eyes away from them and put them back on my fingers while I finished playing, as to not mess up. At last, I finished the song, letting the last chord ring out, and looked up again. Marilyn and Zim were still yelling, now in each other's faces. Zim stared at him full on while gesturing to all the recording things beside him. Twiggy looked up quickly, pressed a button in front of him most likely to stop the recording, then turned to Marilyn and Zim. How they could look so angry at each other, I did not know, and had never seen before once. They usually seemed to get along perfectly. I watched as Twiggy obviously yelled something, then again louder when he was ignored by them.
  First, Zim turned and looked at me, then Marilyn did the same. I stared at them blankly, obviously upset but not sure what to do. I stood up and placed the guitar on a stand next to the wall, then left the room and entered theirs. I stood there silently and looked at them. Twiggy and Ginger looked at me, then Ginger turned away again, and Marilyn and Zim both picked up folders from the counter and began looking through papers. Only Twiggy still looked at me, and I met his eyes. They meant to say, "Don't even ask," or something of the such. Like hell I wasn't going to ask, I was only their adopted daughter, girlfriend, and band mate, just not at the moment. But this wasn't going to fly.
  I could basically feel the heat penetrating deep into my pores from the anger of both Zim and Marilyn. I took a seat beside Twiggy finally, and broke the silence. It was hard to, and almost impossible in the condition of those around me. "How was that?" I asked, and knew that my voice made it clear that my question was directed toward Twiggy. He looked up, his eyes almost a bit shocked, seeming to now say that he was surprised I'd actually broken that silence. I was seeing more and more as every second passed that this 'argument' of theirs was not a common thing between any of them.
  "It was perfect, you did great," Twiggy said, and his voice cracked only the slightest as he nodded and looked back down, messing with buttons again. That only proved how weird it was, Twiggy was never awkward, Twiggy was Twiggy. My eyelids turned to slits and I spun my chair around easily to face the others. Zim's face was red, more so than ever, and Marilyn's only showed pure anger. Of course, Ginger was still trying to be as quiet as possible and it looked like he was holding his breath. With my arms crossed, I waited silently for anything to happen.
  Finally, Zim looked up at me from his folder of papers, slapped them down on the counter, and let his arm fall to his side. "Are you ready to go?" he asked. He used the most harsh tone I'd ever heard come from him and his voice didn't tremble or shake a single bit. I recognized that small detail as how men were, how they thought they constantly had to try and prove something by showing no weakness whatsoever, no matter the situation. I had the smallest and briefest urge to slap him, but scolded myself in my mind for even thinking that. Still, I didn't like his tone.
  "Yes," I said, my own voice equally as rough as his, glaring at him only a bit. I stood, grabbed my bag, and followed him out of the building. Marilyn didn't look up at either of us as we left, but Ginger sort of gave me a look that said, "Good luck," and Twiggy did the same. We walked out into the late afternoon, the sun only somewhat beginning to fall with the wintery season. It was strangely getting colder and colder, like Marilyn had told me it would. It was very strange, for Los Angeles.
  I slid into the passenger seat of Zim's car, the faint smell of smoke always soothing in the smallest ways. He was still obviously angry, but I wanted to know. "What was going on in there?" I asked. I pretty much summed up everything; why were you fighting? What were you fighting about?
  "I don't want to talk about it," he snapped. He was never like this, at least never this bad. I'd learned from the very few times I'd seen him angry that when he said he didn't want to talk about it, it was basically his polite way of asking you to shut up because he refused to talk about it, period. I knew not to press him further, because I wouldn't get anywhere, and I didn't want to risk anything between us. I didn't need to start an agrument between us.
  Zim and I were completely silent the rest of the way home, not saying a word to each other at all. He didn't turn on the radio as he usually did in his car, and the thought didn't dare cross my mind to do it either, though I was deep down half tempted to just because I was getting mad over the entire deal now as well, and I didn't even know what was going on. We pulled up in front of the apartment complex and I stepped out and slammed the door. I didn't know what was going on with me, I usually didn't act like that, but I couldn't help it in the moment. I walked angrily up the stairs, unlocked the door, and went inside, Zim close behind the whole time, but not saying anything.
  I went into the bedroom to change my clothes into what I was going to wear to the concert, and Zim came in after me, sitting on the bed. It did make me a bit more angry that he'd come in and was watching me, even though he always did, and I watched him, and neither of us ever cared. But I was mad at him. Marilyn too, obviously. I stripped my clothes off and put on a pair of long, black leather pants, a tight-fitting, strapless, black leather corset, and a thin, black lace choker. I took my black combat boots and sat on the bed, then began putting them on. They were my favorite. They were platforms, were laced up nearly to my knees, and had chains hanging from them. I liked to save them for special occasions and I didn't wear them much.
  "Mavis, I'm sorry," Zim said when I began strapping up the second boot. I glanced up at him for a moment, then looked back down, my hair falling in my face again. Zim's voice was calmer than it had been before, gentler with me now, though it still had a very recognizable trace of anger in it. I was subconsciensely glad that it wasn't directed toward me, but I didn't want to admit that to myself. Then I realized how much of a teenage girl I was acting, and let my expression soften, even though I wasn't looking at Zim, but at my boots. "I didn't mean to get angry with you."
  It was quiet as I couldn't find anything to say, and he started again, this time angrier. "Marilyn's just...damnit, Mavis, he has the biggest head, the only person he ever listens to is Twiggy, and even then, sometimes it's like he treats Twiggy like his dog, like we're all his little pets and we have to do whatever he wants. Twiggy's his best friend, he doesn't realize it's going on most of the time, and Ginger never really cares what happens anyway. But I want my ideas heard! He seriously does not listen to a single thing I say, and I try to put my all into this band, give it everything I can, my music just as well as his, and he DOES NOT listen!"
  I finally completely calmed and lost all of my anger. I loved Zim so much that I couldn't help automatically being on his side...maybe there was another side to the story, and even though I wanted to believe too that Marilyn wasn't the one in the wrong here, I knew that it was exactly something he would do. It reminded me of the whole Pogo situation, which was something none of us ever talked about. (I honestly wasn't even sure if they knew that I knew about the whole thing...it was obviously before I'd come to live with them, so I didn't know Pogo, but I knew that in ways, Marilyn was being highly unreasonable, and in ways, not.) I finished tying my boot laces quickly and slid across the comforter and over to Zim. I put my arm around his back and leaned against him. I was glad that he treated me like an adult, rather than the teenage girl I was, and acted like many times.
  "I'm sorry for getting mad at you, too," I said quietly, stroking his side gently. His muscles were tense and he sat there, stiffly, anger still on his face, but fading a bit slowly. "I didn't have any right to. And I'm sorry about Marilyn...I don't know what I can do..."
  "There is nothing you can do, it's just the way he is," he said, finally completely calm, as I was. He was breathing slowly and heavily still though. "But I can't tolerate this constantly, if he keeps doing this, I'll have to..."
  "You'll have to what?" I asked very quietly. I moved my head away from his body and look up at him with a frown.
  "Nothing," he said, and I knew if I pressed him further, he still wouldn't tell me. Once he said, "Nothing," or anything like that, I learned to hold myself back and not push him, no matter how badly I wanted to. I heard the door slam in the living room, but no talking followed it like usual. Everyone in the apartment was silent.
  "Come on, let's go get something to eat," Zim said quietly and laced his fingers through mine. I grabbed my black leather jacket and followed him through the hall. We passed the guys in the kitchen, and Marilyn didn't look at either of us. He was obviously still infuriated, and I knew Zim didn't look in his direction either. Ginger was still quiet, and Twiggy just looked up at us. I slightly shrugged at him, shook my head, sighed, and looked down without Zim noticing. Together, we left.
  It was freezing outside and I quickly put on my jacket, zipped it up, and snapped the buttons together across the zipper. He turned on his car heater immediately and quietly, we drove. He pulled into a drivethrough restaurant window and ordered us each a salad. I'd decided finally to become a vegetarian, a few days ago, and was trying to eat as healthy as I could. Zim was always educating me on health and food, on GMO foods and all the bad ingrediants food had in it nowdays, and I'd started following his organic lifestyle. It was hard giving up meat (Sesame chicken mostly, I could barely look at the Chinese restaurant we passed every day on the way to the studio) but I wanted to do it. So we got organic salads. (Of course, Zim did his research on a lot of places we ate at.)
  We ate in his car, the radio low, and by the time we finished, it was finally completely dark and nearly time for the concert. He grabbed my hand and held it in the middle of us while we drove, until we had to get out. I took out our two tickets (Marilyn had the other three, but obviously were taking their own car) and we were let in quickly, despite the line, due to the fact that they were the best, front row tickets there were. I suddenly felt bad for all the fans standing out in the freezing cold. A large amount of them didn't wear warm clothes at all...I knew they probably didn't even own any, when had Los Angeles ever gotten as cold as it was now?
  "Weather modification," Zim had told me one morning as we lay in bed together, talking quietly. "Government stuff, HAARP," he said, talking about those crazy conspiracy theories of his. HAARP was a group that apparently, as Zim had just told me, could control the weather. It was a bit crazy and hard to believe, but I'd grown to realize that a lot of stuff Zim believed in and talked about made sense in ways. I wasn't sure what to believe though, at least not yet. I wasn't sure if this "HAARP" organization was really making it terribly cold in all of California or not. "Global cooling's next, isn't it? They really know how to work the people." I nodded and listened quietly as he continued.
  We found our way into the steamy, large concert room, and down to the front. Only shortly after were the rest of the people let in, but not before I saw Marilyn, Twiggy, and Ginger walking down to join us. I was a bit surprised actually that Marilyn was going to stand anywhere near Zim. People flooded around us, and most pointed out Marilyn and the other band members (They didn't know me yet, obviously. They probably just thought I was one of their girlfriends, which of course I was, but I looked older. Zim had asked me the night before to do my makeup where I looked older when I got ready the next morning, and I had darkened my eyes extremely and I wore blood red lipstick. I looked probably ten years older than I was. It was a good quality I had). But thankfully, most of them were respectful and did not swarm any of us. A lot of hardcore fans of either Marilyn Manson or Nine Inch Nails were usually good at that...leaving them alone.
  The concert did not take long to start, and out came Trent Reznor and the rest of his band. He began talking into the microphone to the people, and even though I knew Trent already, had been in his house and had babysat his child, I got the tingling feeling of excitement still, being at one of his concerts at last. He'd always been one of my biggest influences, and even after everything that had happened recently in my life, it was a hard thought to process that I was at a Nine Inch Nails concert. I wouldn't ever tell that to anyone though. He spotted us just beneath him and smirked slightly, then winked at me. I screamed along with the rest of the fans, just unable to help it. Zim slightly glanced at me, smiled, and rolled his eyes. He took my hand in his and we stood close together as Trent began to sing.
  The music was great, the sound was loud and perfect, the rhythm of the bass beat in my chest, and I smiled most of the time, singing along with the lyrics of nearly every song. This was pretty much my first concert...and it was amazing in every last way. Smoke and lights filled the room the entire time, and it grew hot, but no one cared. It was like every person in the crowd was one, a great mass, rebellious and ready for anything. As if unstoppable.
  Trent spoke again into the microphone after a long time, and announced that the next song would be their newest single, 'Came Back Haunted.' I'd heard that a lot of fans had despised it, but I personally loved it, and screamed with the crowd as it began. I sang with the lyrics, Trent only a few inches from me as he walked around the stage quickly, bent over the microphone in his hands, the anger rising in his voice as he sang.
  Halfway through the song, I managed to tear my eyes from the stage and looked over at Zim. He still held on to my hand, but my face fell as I saw what I did not want to see. I could not hear a single thing over the booming music, but I could see that he and Marilyn were screaming in each other's faces. How they could hear each other, I did not know, but my heart began to pound as the guitar solo erupted from the stage.
  Zim's fingers slid out of mine and my hand dropped to my side. All four of us, and people in the crowd turned too to see him. The chorus of the song was beginning for the third and last time, the music so loud and painful in my ears in this moment, and for the first time, I really realized the meaning of the song, 'Slo-Mo-Tion.' I turned my head and my hair flew around my face, and everything felt as slow as anything had ever felt to me before, it seemed to take forever to turn. The music seemed to slow down too as I spun on my heel. My eyes found the back of Zim, who began pushing his way through the crowd, breaking their gaze toward the stage. Without looking at the guys, or anyone else, I rushed after him, in the trail he'd left through the crowd. It took forever it seemed, to run after him, the chorus still being sung loudly. "And everything's shot in sloooo-moooo-tionnnn," I thought, despite the music in my ears, completely different.
  I finally lost sight of him as people moved back together and would barely let me through. I pushed and pushed as Trent sang, "I just can't, STOP. I came back, ha-ha-haunted!" At last, I reached the back of the room, and everything felt fuzzy and strange, the smoke clouding my vision. I was feeling ultimately frustrated, but at last I found the back door to the room and left through it. I entered a bright, quiet hall and dashed across, pushing the doors open and flying out into the cold parking lot.
  I turned my head in every direction, searching for Zim's familiar figure. They'd argued again, he'd left. I wanted to scream his name into the chokingly cold air, but all that my voice would produce was the quietest, "Zim." He was gone.