We're from America (Marilyn Manson)

Born Again

After waking up from the coma, she didn't want to talk to anyone. She kept seeing the events before her overdose on repeat. She had gone through most of the physical withdrawal while being unconscious. After waking up, she felt the abstinence crisis, but she felt it less with each passing day. Though she still yearned for a hit now, it wasn't eating her alive anymore. Going sober was hard, especially after everything that had happened. She had spent a total of ten days at the hospital. And it was a hell she chose to go through alone.
.
The day of her release had arrived, and the band was eager to see her again. She did not feel the same way.
"Are you happy to finally be out?" Twiggy asked her. She just shrugged in response.

"We have one more night here and then we'll be flying to Moscow." The band shot glares at their front man who started talking business. "Dude... She just got out. Can't you give her a few more hours to adjust?" Daisy hissed. "No, it's fine Scott." She piped up. After that it was quiet.
It felt really awkward. Every once in a while, somebody would glance at the drummer, but she just stared ahead of her. She felt a sort of comfort knowing the tour would continue. She had decided to completely throw herself into work. She realized that now more than ever she would be watched closely, by whoever wanted that job. She had a feeling that Brian would want space from her. Especially after what happened with their baby. No matter what he thought, relief flooded through her, knowing that she wasn't pregnant anymore. The baby wouldn't have been okay, if she had stayed pregnant and continued on her path of drug abuse. Plus, she never wanted children to begin with. When she told him all of that after having woken up, he freaked out. Rage coursed through him. He just left. He didn't talk to her after, with the exception of that previous sentence. And maybe it was for the best. She didn't want to drag him down with her. Having feelings for each other was a mistake. He had made the first step toward them only having a professional relationship and that was completely fine with her.
On the day of her release she had no obligations. No concert to look forward to. She had no idea what she would do with the free time. Only a few hours to survive. Still a few too many.
When they arrived at the hotel a new problem arose. Who would she be sharing a room with? Scott volunteered. Marilyn didn't want anything to do with her at the moment. She understood.
.
The show in Moscow finally came. For the first time in months Brian broke their tradition. No preshow cig. She didn't mind though. She wasn't ready to deal with 'feelings'. After her smoke she changed into her costume and went on stage to practice. Alone. Everyone got her message pretty quickly. They left her alone because they didn't know how to help her. Scott still watched her from a distance. He was afraid she might spiral again. It killed him seeing her like this. Deep inside he knew this had been going on since the beginning. She was never okay to begin with. But certain things happened that made everything worse. If he could go back in time, he would have insisted on her staying with him, not Brian. Nothing against him, but the two together were a dangerous combination. Then he wouldn't have turned his back on her when her addiction got really bad. He should have been there when Michael lost his cool. He should have known how she felt about Michael. He was supposed to be her best friend. So, he made sure she didn't do something stupid. Without her knowing, he stood backstage and watched her. She was playing the beat to an unknown song. She hit the drums so hard and fast that one of her sticks broke. "SON OF A BITCH!" She yelled. She stood up and walked past him to the dressing room. The show would start in half an hour anyway. He followed her back. "Do you have spare sticks?" he asked. "What? Oh yeah, of course. Would be pretty dumb to not bring spares." She said.
"Get ready, we start in 20."
.
"Do you or don't you want this to be your song?
It doesn't take a rebel to sing along
This art is weak in its pretty, pretty frame
And I am a monkey with a misspelled name

I'll put down your disco
And take you heart away
I'll put down your disco
And take your heart away
I am born again