Sweet dreams are made of screams

Rotten teeth

My bedroom smells like rotten food
And I guess so do I
It's harder to be good in here
Than it is to starve and die

I'd give my body to Satan
If I could only keep my soul
But I can't seem to find the split
Between them anymore

My hair is falling out again
And I don't really care
I try to stir my conscience
It was never really there

Your fingers up inside of me
Feel like fingers down my throat
Everything is fine in Heaven
But I'll never get to know

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twiggy's P.O.V:

They gave me three stitches in my temple and cleaned the blood off my face. My nose was broken in two places. Everything seemed like a dream as my chest and head went numb on the drive back to our hotel. Pogo went in with Zim and I went in with Daisy because I missed him so much.

I don't really remember much from that night but the thing that stuck out the most was Daisy. I remember him making sure I felt safe in bed, I told him I was fine but the thing that stuck me the most was seeing him loom over me and stare at me three times when he thought I was asleep. I shrugged it off as just him being worried but what happened the next day disproved that theory.

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"Twiggy" Daisy called from the bathroom. "Mmh?" I yawned, just waking up. "Come in here" I sighed and made my way to the bathroom. "What?-" my eyes went wide. He was Completly naked, his cock hard. He was atleast nine inches. "D-daisy?" I trembled. He smirked and happily walked up to me, placing his hands on my shoulders and kissing my lips. I quickly pulled away and attempted to push him off. "What the fuck, Scott?!" I yelled, obviously repulsed. "Come on, Twigs, don't be like that. I just want to have some fun."

He cornered me, I fell backwards onto the bed. "Scott?" I whimpered. "Shhh." He covered my trembling lips with one hand, the other on my hips. My dress still on from last night but my underwear off...

"Scott! Please!" I said, muffled. And then he thrusted his length deep in me, dry. I attempted to scream out in pain or even scream for help but his hand stopped me. He thrusted again and again. I tried to kick and push and scream only to have his hand wrapped around my throat. Every time I made a sound, he'd squeeze, choking me.

The pain only got worse and soon I just accepted it. I couldn't stop him I was weak. I was useless...I was a fag, a whore. He fucked me until I bled. He came twice. The disgusting moans that escaped his throat didn't seem to leave my ears for hours after.

I don't know where he went. He just left me on the bed, covered in blood, tears steaming down my cheeks. I couldn't move. My heart felt as if it had stopped, my insides felt torn into millions of pieces. I clutched my stomach and glared at the ceiling. I was so numb I couldn't even blink. My throat was dry and my lips seemed even more chapped than before. Why would he do this to me? I thought he was my friend. Didn't he used to be? What happened between then and now? What the fuck happened to us?

Then the door knocked. My eyes shifted to the right. The door knocked again. "Twiggy I brought you breakfast." It was Pogo. "Twiggy?"
"Thanks, I'll get it in a sec." I lied in a barely audible voice. "Alright." And then he left. I rolled over and hugged the pillow tightly against my aching chest.

I'm sorry, Manson.