Long Hard Road Out Of Hell (Marilyn Manson) ON HOLD

Man That You Fear

He didn't have any makeup on and was dressed relatively normal but there was no doubt it was him. I stood there on the stairs, trying to form words whilst looking between Manson and Wyke, mentally asking for an explanation to the many questions that were whirling around my head.

One, why the actual fuck was he in Plymouth of all places? The closest he's performing in the UK is Derby and that's not until June, and it was February. Plus he was supposed to be in between America, Australia and Canada for the next three months on his Hell Not Hallelujah tour. He couldn't have postponed the most anticipated and successful Manson come back to travel over nine hours to adopt a girl he knows nothing about and could possibly hate, could he?

Secondly, how did he know I was in Plymouth? Even though this is my home town, I've travelled all over the UK going to different care homes, it just so happened I was redirected back to Plymouth, even though I wanted to be as far away from this place as possible. All he saw was that video, it's not as if he could get all of my personal details from a couple of seconds of a soon-to-be-viral-video.

All the information I had to take in was making my head hurt and I thought I was going to vomit, pass out or both.

"Is this heavy?" Marilyn asked, picking up my suitcase from the bottom of the stairs where it had stopped after I let it fall.

"N-no... Um, wh- wha-, I don't..." I tried to speak but everything that came out of my mouth faded away into nothing. I ran my hand through my spiky hair and leaned against the wall for support. I could feel my heart rate increasing and getting the feeling of missing the last step on a staircase. Please, for fucks Dixie, do not have a panic attack right now, just get a fucking grip and breathe through this like you have everything else.

"Dixie, this is Brian, your foster carer for the week. Brian, this is Dixie, your new first child," Mrs Wyke introduced us to each other with a big smile on her face. He obviously hadn't told her who he really was which was sort of disappointing because I wanted her to know that I was getting fostered by Marilyn Manson. Holy shit... I'm getting adopted by Marilyn Manson... I'm getting adopted by Marilyn Manson! Okay, not adopted. Let's not get ahead of our selves here, he might not even like me.

"Dixie is a great name by the way," he said, holding out his hand for me to shake. Okay, control your inner fan girl and shake his hand like any other normal person.

"T-thanks," I stuttered. My heart skipped a beat when I shook his hand. I just made contact with Marilyn Manson. I'm never going to wash this hand again oh my god.

"Right, well I can see you're getting along pretty well, would you like to stay for a cup of tea or will you be needing to get off?" Mrs Wyke asked politely.

"Oh, I would love too but unfortunately I have a lot of things planned for us to do today," he motioned towards me and I had to stop myself from screaming. He must've realized I know he is by now, if he hasn't that will be extremely embarrassing. I could tell my face was as red as a tomato right now and no matter what I did I couldn't calm down. I wanted to run back to my room and hide under the covers in the dark until I could get my head around what was happening. I didn't exactly want to tell him I'm freaking out because he's Marilyn Manson. Maybe I won't say anything unless he asks me. Yeah that sounds good.

"No worries, now Dixie have a lovely time and I wish you all the best," she enfolded me in a huge hug and I hugged her back, too shocked to object to her gesture.

We stepped out of the door and I have never appreciated the cold English air more in my entire life. We walked down the path to a very sleek and expensive looking black jaguar. I whistled in awe as he put my suitcase in the boot and got into the passenger seat. I was confused until I got in the back and saw a chauffeur in the drivers seat.