We're from America (Marilyn Manson)

Jesus Crisis

Blackness surrounded her. When she lifted her hand, it glowed white. She started walking forward deeper and deeper into the darkness. After what felt like hours, she saw something else glowing in front of her. She suddenly felt the need to scratch herself. The closer she got to the glow the itchier she felt. And the closer she got the farther the glow was. She kept walking. Faster and faster. Scratch scratch scratch scratch SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH. She was running now. The glow disappeared. She screamed in frustration. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!!!!!!!!!!" She ran forward to where it disappeared and reaching the spot, she fell. She kept falling and falling and falling. SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH. She hit something and opened her eyes. She fell on white powder, snow white powder. The itching got a thousand times worse. She looked around herself, everything was white. She looked down and saw crimson red drops all around her. Then she looked down at her hands and arms. She saw her muscles covered by veins. She had no skin left. The veins were leaking. She lay down in the white powder and made a snow angel. The itching stopped as the white substance touched her body. The bleeding stopped; the blood laced with the white powder slipping back into her veins. She rolled around in it, inhaling parts of it. Then she stood up. She looked at her arms again and they were white, just like before. She walked through the piles of white. After a while she saw a figure approaching. She stopped in front of her. She recognized her in an instant. "Grandmother?" Her grandmother looked at her and her face contorted in anger. "I thought you were clean. I am disappointed in you child." Tears streamed down her face. But when her white hands reached up to dry her face, she saw it was blood. "Crying is for the weak. And you are WEAK!" The older woman screeched. "Just as weak as you were before. You will die and I will see you in hell." Blood filled her eyes and she screamed, punching her grandmother. She broke like porcelain, the pieces of her body shattering to the ground. James fell down too. Darkness surrounding her yet again.
"Wake up!" She opened her eyes slowly, seeing Daisy's concerned face above her. "It's 4 P.M. We're in New York! It's time to get ready for the show! And you've been sleeping all day, c'mon Sleeping Scary, you have to eat something." "Hand me my bag, please." He disappeared for a while, and when he came back, he handed it to her gingerly. She pulled out her spoon and syringe. Then she searched through her bag, looking for the piece of tin foil containing her heroin. She found it, heating it on the spoon and after that injecting it in her arm. She instantly felt better, forgetting all about her dream. She looked at Daisy, his face slightly sad. "What?!" "Nothing, c'mon let's get you something to eat." He was going to kill Manson for getting their newest band member involved with drugs.
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"Welcome to McDonald's! How may I help you?" The perky worker said. Her happiness annoyed James. "Yeah, I'll have a cheeseburger, Oreo McFlurry, a large portion of fries and a medium coke." She paid and waited at her table with Daisy. "Are you going to eat anything?" "Nah, I ate before. James, about earlier..." She raised her eyebrow at him. "What were you dreaming about? You kept scratching yourself and screamed a few times..." He caught her off guard, because she was expecting the question to be about her drug abuse. Which would have been very hypocritical of him. She knew damn well they all did drugs. "Uh nothing important really, I dreamt that I was falling." That was close to the truth, wasn't it? She didn't feel like talking at the moment.
Daisy was sure that wasn't the entire truth. It didn't explain the scratching and he was quite sure he heard her whisper the word grandmother. And he heard her whimper too. But he decided to leave it alone. They weren't that close yet. They didn't even know each other's real names. "Hey James, what's your name?" "Are joking? You just said my name..." "I meant your REAL name. I'm Scott, nice to meet you!" He extended his hand in front of him. She took it gingerly and said: "I'm Molly." "Oh, like Ron Weasley's mom!" He caught her off guard again. It surprised her he knew the Harry Potter novels. She laughed but quickly became serious. "No, actually. Like the drug." He put his hand on hers, giving her a sympathetic look. Her food came and she ate it in record time. "Let's go! I have to go change and practice." He nodded and they walked in silence for a while before she remembered the order Marilyn gave her. "Wait, where's Manson? Shouldn't he be here, watching my every step, so my big mouth doesn't get me killed?" Daisy laughed and told her that he was put in charge of her protection today. He didn't know where Marilyn was. "It's so fucking annoying, he's been at my side for almost three weeks now!" She lit her cigarette and they walked in silence again. He thought for a while and then said: "It scared him, because you're one hell of a drummer and you almost got killed! He doesn't want to lose another band mate. And you're quite younger than us, so I guess he feels the need to protect you, because I don't know, maybe he has a dad complex? I really don't know." "Ha! I think it's just his revenge, because I said I wouldn't spread my legs for everyone like the rest of you do." "Hey!" "Well, it's true, isn't it? Plus, you're a hero when you nail a thousand women. You're considered a slut when you have sex with five different men." He considered it and had to agree. "Also how old do you guys think I am?" "Well, I don't know! Maybe twenty-one?" "I'm twenty-six! That's not much younger than the rest of you! You're all in your mid-thirties, right?" He nodded. "I can take care of myself, by the way. If that ass didn't have a knife, I would have kicked his ass probably! I've been taking care of myself for most of my life. Just because I have a vagina, don't assume I'm a damsel in distress." "Sorry! But we're headed the same way anyway, so I'm not your protector, just a friend. Can you live with that?" "Yeah okay."
Her pleasant high was gone. She considered shooting up again, but she didn't know how it would affect her playing. She wasn't deep enough to have bad withdrawal symptoms yet. Right?
.
"Oh my Satan, James your arms!" Twiggy yelled when they were all changing together. "What about them?" She held them in front of her, hardly seeing anything unusual. "They're all bloody and full of scratch marks!" Pogo said. "Oh, don't mind them." She quickly put on her purple shirt. She wore a purple suit, and her nose was painted to match it. She wore two ponytails, looking cute and scary at the same time. She left them and went on stage to practice.
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"I write songs to fight and to fuck to
If you wanna fight, then I'll fight you
If you wanna fuck, I will fuck you
Make up your mind or I'll make it up for you