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The Old, Familiar Sting	By : FlameWolf666 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Marilyn Manson Views: 1207 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Marilyn Manson and have never met him in real life, despite my dearest wishes. This is fiction, for fun and no profit will be made from it.

Chapter List
- 1-The Old, Familiar Sting
- 1
WARNING!!: Suicide Attempt Via Drug Overdose! Cutting! Lots of Blood and Vomit!

Author’s Note: First off the version of ‘Hurt’ I used is very specific. I went with Johnny Cash’s cover of the song, seriously give it a listen. Next off, this is a very dark look at what the stress of living with a rock star can do to someone who may not have been stable to begin with. (I hesitated to even post this but it was so well written I thought it would be a waste not to. If reception is too bad I’ll remove it again.)

‘Hurt’ (c) Nine Inch Nails but cover is (c) Johnny Cash.

The Old, Familiar Sting

By: FlameWolf

    I stared up at the ceiling, the familiar feeling of cocaine racing through my veins offering no comfort. I just used this drug to get a boost anymore, often feeling too numb to try to fake a happy life for his sake. I was always so tired, just so tired. Was it so wrong to want to see if I could feel anything at all? Sighing, my painful eyes rolled to a pile of razors I had torn free of their package earlier. This, this was my only anchor in this maddening sea of flashbulbs and months of not seeing a man who meant far too much to me. I tried to remember the good times, how happy I had felt before things had begun to spiral out of control.
    He used to be affectionate, he used to call every night just to sing me to sleep. I could still remember the spicy smell of his cologne as he bundled me into his arms after an endless tour. Now there seemed to be an insurmountable distance that was growing every day. He barely even seemed to want to visit me without prompting, giving me a sick feeling that he had found someone else. It had gone on for so long and had gotten so bad that I now found myself in a hotel room in a city he was performing in, just in the hopes of seeing that he was okay.
    Sighing as I struggled against the pervasive numbness that had become my companion, I reached toward my cure. The thing I had turned to out of desperation to feel anything but the hollow, dim ache of my heart in this fog of unfeeling. Nothing felt real anymore but this, this one little thing. Grasping cold metal in my fingers, I held out my left arm to cut along one of the long healed scars; finding the sight of crimson spreading over porcelain oddly beautiful. Yet, even this pain that was once so sharp was fading.

I hurt myself today to see if I still feel.

    I clung to what remnants of the sensation that I could, trying to use it to anchor myself like I usually could. It was no use, however and I released a small sob as the icy ball that was my heart clenched in my chest. This had been going on for months, my only solace becoming faded by the insistent emptiness that filled every part of my being. Growling in frustration, I sat up to look at a small, canvas bag on the night stand. A bag that held a last resort.
    Somewhere, deep under my emotional turmoil, I was upset everything had come to this. Neither of us had done anything to bring this upon ourselves, least of all me. Was it so wrong of me to be confused and lost about the sudden downturn of what had been a very happy relationship? Tearing at my dark hair, I let out a pained noise as I rocked myself.

I focus on the pain, the only thing that's real.

    Before I knew it, I was grabbing the kit to dump the contents onto my bought bed; tears pouring down my cheeks unnoticed as several items hit the mattress. There was a baggy of a tar-like substance, a burnt looking spoon, a surprisingly clean looking syringe that was sealed in its sterile baggy, a torch lighter, a rubber hose and a bag full of cotton balls. Just looking at it made me shudder, any fear I felt severely dulled by the disconnection to my feelings. I had only started doing heroin a few days ago and it still frightened me.
    Grabbing the rubber hose, I tied it around my upper arm before heating up the deadly substance. Next thing I knew, I was tapping a bulging vein as I tried to ignore the thudding of my heart. It probably wasn’t a good idea to mix this with cocaine but I was beyond caring. So, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I injected myself. The needle stung as it slid in, filling my veins with black tar heroin as I pushed down the plunger.

The needle tears a hole, the old familiar sting.

    Immediate euphoria flooded my system, warming the deathly cold that swirled within me. For just a moment, I felt relief and that alone was enough to bring me peace. Then my eyes were moving to my phone and my heart dropped slightly. To be honest, there was nothing in the world that would dull this swirling abyss, this blankness that permeated even the floating sense of well-being given to me by the poison I had shot into myself. With a shaking hand, I picked up the my link to the outside world.
    Swaying as the drugs interacted in my system, I called my lover; a man who had been a huge part of my soul for years now. I wasn’t surprised when I was immediately shunted to his voicemail, my body shaking as a cold sweat covered my body. Still, I left a slurred message before I laid back and let my mind drift on the high. The closed cellphone rolled out of my hand as my unfocused eyes locked on a crack in the ceiling. Memories of our time together filled my mind. Memories of our first meeting, back when I had been a silly fan who had climbed onto the stage to flash my tits at him. I had only wanted to have the thrill of someone I practically worshipped seeing my goods and had nearly been thrown of the stage for my efforts. It had only been him that had stopped it, placing himself between me and security. I had lost my virginity in his make-up room that night.

Try to kill it all away but I remember everything.

    I used to be happy, used to laugh, used to cry, used to feel human. I had hopes and dreams. I had visions for my future, even before I had stumbled into his life. I had even been on a fast track to become an animator. Now, I was slowly losing myself a piece at a time, not only to my inner demons but to the drugs I resorted to. I would have never even considered shit like what I was taking now. For the longest while, the strongest thing I had tried was marijuana.
    Heaving a watery sigh as I rode the wave, I looked at the track marks littering my too thin arms. What was coursing through my veins had been my only escape for months now, at least the coke anyway. It had felt almost like a friend at times, helping me get through the days where I just wanted it to all end. I was so caught up in looking at the angry holes in my skin that I didn’t hear my phone start to ring.

What have I become, my sweetest friend?

    Honestly, he had become the center of my world for a very sad reason. My parents had disowned me at the age of sixteen for a plethora of reasons, his music being one of them. From then on, I had to eke out a living on my own; clawing my way relentlessly toward my dream. By the time I had met him, I was being scouted by both Pixar and Disney. I also had no friends. In fact, I was pretty done with people by the time our relationship started. It it hadn’t been for him... just thinking about it made an ache echo through my heart. It was then that I became aware of my phone.
    Picking it up, I answered in a slurred voice; wincing at the voice that answered me. “Do you know what the fuck time it is? I got a concert in the morning and you call me dead ass drunk?!” screamed his familiar baritone, making agony twist a knife in my chest. Yet, a surreal giggle bubbled past my lips as I rolled the syringe I had used on myself with a finger. Silence followed this utterance, worry gradually replacing the rage that permeated the phone connection.
    “Who ssssaaaid I was drunk,” I sighed, my voice sounding blurred as the high began to wear off a little.

Everyone I know goes away in the end.

    I was still decently high but the euphoria had worn off for a deep depression, something that made me hate the heroin. Sometimes it wasn’t worth the brief burst of happiness that I knew was false. Yet, none of that would stop me from shooting up again. I was beginning to crave it for the simple fact that it made me feel something. I was so wrapped up in my contemplations, that I didn’t hear my famous lover until he was nearly screaming in my ear. “Huh?” I hummed, focusing on what he was saying in the middle and getting only a jumble of words.
    “What the fuck are you on?!” he screamed, terror clear in his raspy baritone as I became aware of the sound of another woman in the background.
    “Heh, like you fucking care anymore. If you wanted to end it, you shoulda just ended it. Why keep me around? You were literally everything I had. I literally gave you everything I had and look what it gave me. Besides, you didn’t call back out of concern for my well-being,” I sighed, a surprising lack of anger in my voice that I could only attribute to the mix of narcotics in my system. Silence was the only reply I got and I clicked my phone closed with a bitter chuckle.

And you could have it all, my empire of dirt.

    At some point, I found myself jolted awake by the ringing of my phone; my vision swimming as the horrible feeling of the come down filled me. As I ignored the ringing, I lifted both my arms to look at them. I had been a cutter since before I met him and I still remembered when he caught me the first time. He had been so full of anger and extreme worry. Yet he hadn’t yelled at me, merely let his mismatched eyes do the talking as he patched my shallow wounds. Once that was done, he had made me promise never to harm myself like this again. And I had tried but had slipped once or twice, the third time nearly ending in him placing me in psychiatric care.
    When our relationship had gotten deep and I had eventually stopped self harming, he had caught someone offering me coke at a party. He had nearly torn the poor man’s head off and had made me swear never to take anything like that. The haunted look in his heterochromic gaze told me he had gone quite a few rounds with the insidious powder and he just didn’t want to see me go down the painful route. I had made a promise that had seemed easy at the time but I now found myself bitter about. Picking up the small phone again, I opened it to put it on speaker so I wouldn’t have to hold it up. “No, no you need to get the fuck out of here!” he snarled in the background, a female protest making my shaky heart sink.

I will let you down, I will make you hurt.

    Ignoring the turmoil coming from the other end, I closed my eyes as my heart stuttered in my chest. It was then I wondered just what the consequences of mixing coke and heroin would be. I wasn’t drug savvy by any stretch of the imagination, I had no clue if what I had done would be deadly. The only person I could ask was currently trying to kick another woman out, a woman he had more than definitely slept with. This thought caused a wave of weariness to wash through me. “Look, I’ll hang up so you can finish your business. I don’t need to hear this,” I sighed, fumbling with the phone to hang up.
    “No! No, I’m here. I’m fuckin’ here! Don’t you hang up! Tell me what the Hell ya took right now!” came an enraged response, panic mixed in.
    “Like I said, why do you even care? It’s not your responsibility,” I sighed, feeling unbidden tears rolling down my cold cheeks. I hated this, I hated the feeling of betrayal that came from using these drugs. What right did he have to cause me to feel this after all he had done.

I wear this crown of thorns upon my liar's chair.

    As he began to speak again, I simply allowed myself to drift; his voice only bringing bitterness and hate where it once brought love. The fact that we had fallen so far drew a pained noise from me as my heart stuttered again, the center of my chest vaguely beginning to hurt. All I could think of were his lips, his arms, whispered words of how much he loved me as we lay in his bed. I had swallowed them all like some naive waif, wanting to believe the lies because I so trusted him. His music had gotten me through so much and being with him had been like a dream come true.
    Vaguely hearing screams of my name growing in volume, I rolled away from the phone to drown out the noise. A slight tingling began to fill my limbs as my heart began to beat erratically every now and again. Taking a deep breath and letting it out again, I allowed my mind to drift as the blood from my cuts soaked into the sheets beneath me. Soon the voice I had come to hate faded into the background as I began to envision bits and pieces of the past. A past where we had laughed, loved and even shared. I never even realized when he had hung up.

Full of broken thoughts I cannot repair.

    Blessed silence came as I realized I was more than likely dieing. The thought to call 9-11 briefly crossed my mind but I let it go. If this was what my life was going to be like, I didn’t want to live through this. I didn’t want to wake up the next morning in the same situation I had been in for months now. Looking at my oozing cuts as my vision began to blur, I wondered if it would hurt. Would I finally be freed from this numbness, this pain that had been eating at my soul? Would I finally find the peace I had thought I had found with him?
    Closing my eyes as tears began to come, I curled into a fetal ball as the floodgates finally opened. I was finally feeling something but it was all too late. Hugging myself tightly as my body began to shake and my breathing became labored, I wondered how things had come to this. Was I so sick that I would rather die than leave a relationship that had become toxic to me. The most depressing thing was, my answer was yes. While he seemed to hate me, I still loved him all too much. Rubbing my cold arms, I became aware of the faint sound of pounding on my door.

Beneath the stains of time, the feelings disappear.

    Next came the sound of wood cracking as something heavy slammed into it over and over but I was too far gone to care. My heart was now shuddering almost constantly, making it hard to breathe or stay conscious. It wouldn’t be much longer before I passed out and all of this would cease to matter. A loud crash came from behind me but it might as well have been in another world. It was only being turned roughly onto my back that snapped me slightly out of my stupor. Who I saw hovering over my made me blink in disbelief. Licking dry lips as my vision blurred again, I reached up with a shaking hand to touch the phantom that had appeared. “Jesus Christ... what have you done?” came a horrified gasp from above me as my hand was grabbed.
    “B-brian?” I gasped out in disbelief, barely clinging onto consciousness as he lifted me off what would have been my death bed.
    Instead of answering me, the rockstar looked over me with mismatched eyes; pursing black lips as he ran out of the room with me. “Tell me what you took Carrie. Just tell me for fuck’s sake!” screamed the infamous ‘Antichrist Superstar’. I could only laugh, slightly delirious as I slipped in and out of consciousness.
    “I’ll never tell,” I sing-songed as he charged into an empty elevator.

You are someone else, I am still right here.

    As he ran through the lobby, I found myself listening to his heartbeat. Being held like this almost felt like the old days and I sighed as I nestled into his bony chest. A low growl was the response, his hands tightening where they held me as he sprinted out of the glass doors. Looking around frantically, he walked up to a valet to steal his cellphone; deciding to call 9-11 rather than attempt to get me to the hospital himself. Then he was sitting on the concrete with me, looking into my eyes as he brushed my sweaty bangs out of my face.
    Humming in pleasure, I leaned into the touch. It had been so long since he had shown any affection that I was starved for the slightest of brushes. Seeing me do this seemed to disturb him, his brow furrowing as he pressed his forehead against mine. Pain shown poignantly in his eyes as he stared into mine, tears slipping down his painted cheeks as he began to shake. “I caused this... Oh fuck, I made you think there was no other way out,” he gasped, hot tears pattering onto my skin.

What have I become, my sweetest friend.

    It was too late for any of this, my heart stuttering even worse than before. Breathing labored, I shook my head and tried to turn away from him; only to be held in place by him. What I saw finally broke through the indifferent fog that had settled over me. He was more scared than I had ever seen him, a haunted expression in his eyes. “Don’t you die on me! You need to hang on! I have so much I need to tell you, so much to make up for,” he ordered, his words drawing a pained laugh out of me.
    “So you suddenly care again when I’m dying. You’ll only go back to neglecting me if I live through this or even worse...,” I sighed, closing my eyes as the thudding in my chest became uncomfortable. Hands shook me until I opened my eyes, determined brown and whitish blue fixing on my hazel.
    “I won’t lose you! I don’t care what you think! I refuse to lose the one woman I love!” he declared, his words snapping me awake again.

Everyone I know goes away in the end.

    Love? Had I heard love? It couldn’t have been that word. This man never told anyone he so much as liked them. To think he would tell me, of all people, that he loved me was unbelievable. At one time I would have believed him but not now. Right now he was likely to say anything to keep me from closing my eyes. From finally escaping from all the pain he had caused me. It was all I could do not to laugh, simply shaking my head in disbelief. “How you’ve been acting these past few months isn’t how you treat someone you love,” I pointed out, gasping and shuddering when my heart skipped a beat for a good few seconds.
    “I don’t care if you believe me! Just.. just hold on for me. The ambulance will be here any minute. You’ll need to tell me what you took so they can help you,” he pleaded, tears still falling from his eyes as he began to shake all over.
    Before I could deny his request, he was shaking his head frantically. “Please! Please, just tell me. I can’t... I can’t watch you die. You’re everything to me, everything,” came his heartfelt plea, something about it calling to the part of me that still cared for him.
    “Cocaine and heroin,” I sighed out, not missing the horror that crossed over his gaunt face.

And you could have it all, my empire of dirt.

    “Oh fuck. Okay, okay. Christ. J-just... fucking Christ...,” he murmured sounding broken as he looked up for any sign of paramedics. At that moment my heart stuttered hard and my breath caught briefly, exhaustion coming over me as the organ reluctantly started again.
    “Sleepy,” I whispered, feeling like cement was coating my upper eyelids. The hands shook me again, much less effective than before.
    “Stay awake for me. Keep talking. They should be here any minute. Please hun, just keep breathing for me,” came the terrified response as I slowly slipped into unconsciousness. No amount of shaking was bringing me out either, my breathing getting more and more labored.
    “Please, please don’t do this to me. Please Carrie,” he pleaded, pressing his pale forehead against mine. That was the last thing I heard before a rushing filled my ears.

I will let you down, I will make you hurt.

    Manson could only stare down at the woman he loved more than anything as her breathing became less and less frequent. Finally, just as it seemed he would see her die in his arms, the paramedics pulled up and rushed out. They surrounded his lover in a mob, working to stabilize her as they called out for things he had only heard of on a medical show. He was vaguely aware of answering questions, telling them what had happened.
    After what seemed like an eternity to the rocker, they finally got her heart to beat steadily and some oxygen on her. Then they were bundling her onto a stretcher, asking if he was coming. Giving a nod, he got into the tight space in the back of the ambulance; grabbing one of her hands as she was wheeled in. Rubbing the top of her hand with his thumb, he simply kept silent crying as the ambulance made its way to the hospital.

If I could start again, a million miles away.

    Soreness filled my body as I opened my eyes to see a hospital room instead of my hotel. Remembering what had happened, I groaned as I tried to move my right hand. Finding myself unable to do so, I turned my head to see Marilyn Manson asleep in a chair next to me. Blinking in confusion, I couldn’t help the hope that buoyed in my chest. Maybe this meant all the horror and pain could stop. Maybe we could both move on from this horrible night. Giving his hand a squeeze, I startled when he jumped awake with a terrified look in his eyes.
    Gaze immediately landing on me, relief filled him as he got to his feet to wrap me in a hug. “We almost lost you so many times. I almost lost you,” he gasped, his lithe frame shaking as I cautiously rubbed his back.
    “I know... I... don’t even know what I was thinking. I was just in so much pain...,” I started, beginning to cry myself from the mere memory.
    “Shhhh, don’t talk about it now. I want you to rest. After you get out, however, we’re both going to a counselor. I don’t want to risk this happening again. I... don’t think I can stand seeing you like that a second time,” he breathed, pulling away to look me in the eyes. I could only nod, not wanting to go through any of this again either.
    “I also want to start over with a blank slate. We both need to start from scratch, learn to trust eachother again but this time I’m not going to let you down,” he declared before his lips landed on mine in a desperate kiss.
    Reaching up to return it, I felt a like bittersweetness filling me. While I didn’t want to start all over again, I accepted the fact we had both done things to damage the other’s trust. Besides, who said I had to make it easy for this man to sweep me off my feet a second time? Smirking to myself as he let me go so I could lay down again, I found myself actually looking forward to it. Just the image of him groveling was enough to satisfy me. I just ignored the fact it was unlikely to come to that. With Manson, I had a huge soft spot. In actuality it would probably only take a few days max to get back to the way they had been before things had gotten bad. At least they would have a counselor to help them stay on the right track this time and the thought helped me relax for the first time in a very long time.

I would keep myself, I would find a way.

Fin~
- 1
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The Old, Familiar Sting