Marilyn Manson x Reader

1- Ticket Shit

I sit in my room, blaring "Tourniquet" by Marilyn Manson on my CD player. From downstairs, I hear my stepdad and mom yelling at each other. I turn my music up more and cover my ears with my hands, rocking back and forth. Why must they fight all the fucking time? I hate yelling! It scares the shit out of me! But not like they know. And if they did, they wouldn't give a fuck.

My stepdad was my dad's best friend until my mom cheated on my dad with my stepdad. My dad moved out on a Wednesday when I was six and- BOOM!- this new guy moves in. Married each other when I was eight. Oh yeah, my stepdad's name is Scott. He can be kind of an asshole and is a tool, but is a pretty decent guy, I guess. Except for when he yells at my mom. She doesn't deserve that. But then, who knows? She could've done something to piss him off. I don't listen to what they say, I just try to block it out.

I hear a crash from downstairs and a strangled cry. What the fuck? Ya wanna know what? I'm not going down there. Don't want to get in the middle of it, I'll just make everything worse like always since I fuck everything I do up.

Another crash. And another. And another. I bury my face in my knees, press my hands over my ears more, and cry, and cry, and cry. Most people think that I'm an emotionless cunt, but that's not true. I'm so sensitive, it hurts.

I try to focus on the lyrics that are playing as a panic attack emerges.

"Scream at me again
If you like
Throw your hate at me
With all your might
Hit me cause I'm strange
Hit me
Tell me I'm a pussy and you're harder than me
What's with you boy?
Think hard
A tattoo body to hide who you are
Scared to be honest, to be yourself
A cowardly man"

The music calms me down a little bit and my breathing almost returns to normal, but I'm still shaking. I hear another crash and my panic attack gets worse and I can't breathe. I slowly, shakily, get up and go over to my backpack. I zip open the bag and pull out an inhaler. I push the thingy and breathe in, then out, breathe in, then out. I put my inhaler back and sit on my bed, curling back up in a ball.

I grip my arms, my nails digging into my skin, leaving red marks. I already have scars, so why does it matter?

After some crying, I look up at my mirror. I have short, dyed black hair, black eyeshadow, now running black mascara, bright blue eyes, a pale face, small lips, and I'm only five feet tall. I'm short as fuck, but at least I'm am E cup, so ta-da! But I'm still ugly as fuck, as my mom has told me on multiple occasions. The kids at school have too. That's why I deleted all my social media. To get away. Just to get away from everything...

My phone dings and I pick it up, seeing that I have a text from my best friend, Alexandria, or just X, like X-Men. Hahaha I'm a nerd, I'm sorry.

A: How's life?
S: Shitty. U?
A: Why, what's wrong?
S: Nothing is
A: Tell me the truth
S: I'm fine
S: I promise
A: Sam...
S: What?

I'm starting to really get annoyed.

A: What happened? Are your parents fighting again?
S: Yeah...
A: Wanna talk about it?
S: No
A: Okay. Did you cut yourself, by any chance?

Self harm 101 right here.

I look down at my bloody wrist and the razor next to me. I should probably bandage this up, but fuck, I don't want to. That takes walking out into the world of terror and screams and leaving my safe place. I'll just do it later.

S: Maybe...
A: Sam
S: I couldn't help it, okay?!
A: U should go see a psychiatrist

I grind my teeth in anger.

S: I'm fine. I don't need no fucking shrink
A: You're obviously not fine. Plllleeeaaaassseee. Just for me?
S: No
A: Stubborn
S: Just like a donkey. And I'll never change my mind
A: I know you won't. But what will cheer you up?
S: Hmmmmmm lets see...getting rid of all the bullies, living with my dad 24/7, having more friends, finding love, but most of all, going to a Marilyn Manson concert

Marilyn Manson. My god. My dream lover. My idol. My favorite singer. My everything. If I ever met him, I would probably pass out in shock. And anyone walking into my room would know that I love him. Posters of him are plastered all over my walls with a few Korn posters and Rob Zombie ones with some South Park and other rock bands and shows. I even have a naked one of him since I'm a weird child, but that's okay since people obviously also bought it. In my opinion, he's perfection. Everything I strive to be. A goth king who is famous, a singer, a artist, wears whatever he wants without giving a fuck, having at least some confidence and self esteem, being hot as fuck. But nope, I get unpopular, afraid of being judged, ugly, stupid, and no self esteem whatsoever. He's so perfect while I'm so broken. How can I love someone who's a polar opposite of me?

A: Btw, since your bday is July 29, which is like a week, I got us meet and greet Marilyn Manson tickets

My jaw drops. SHE GOT US MEET AND GREET MARILYN MANSON TICKETS AND DIDNT EVEN FUCKING TELL ME! WHAT THE FUCK! But no time for that, I have some screaming of joy to do. Yes, I scream when I get excited. It's called I have ADHD. Deal with it.

S: NO FUCKING WAY
A: Yes fucking way
S: OMG AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I LOVE YOU YOURE THE BEST FRIEND EVER PLEASE NEVER PISS ME OFF SO I HAVE TO KILL YOU OMG U THE BEST AHHHHHHHHHH GET TO SPEAK TO MY IDOL HOTTIE MAN
A: XD Okay, calm down u bisexual weirdo XD
S: Bi and proud, bitch
A: Ooh shit, I gotta go. Ttyl
S: Bye and THANKS!

I lay down on my bed, a smile on my face, my parents' screaming gone, and a smile of pure joy on my face.