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The Road To Hell	By : Crystal_Sugar Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Marilyn Manson Views: 3438 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN MARILYN MANSON OR AM IN ANY WAY CONNECTED TO HIS FRANCHISE, NOR DO I KNOW ANY OF THEM PERSONALLY. THIS STORY IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION, AND ANY SITUATIONS OF THIS FAN FICTION ARE FICTITIOUS. THERE IS NO PROFIT FROM THIS STORY

Chapter List
- 9
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THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, ENJOY!

ANGEL'S POV

"I'm back, wake uuuup", I heard Manson coo, causing me to wake up. I stiffened and still pretended to be sleeping. He began gently biting my neck. "Wake up, sexy", he whispered and pushed himself against me, since I was only wearing a long shirt now, it allowed me to feel his hardened cock. Oh, he's horny. Hmm, didn't he get enough with his little ex whore that Pogo told me about?

"I neeeed you sooo bad", he whined, softly grinding his crotch against me.

He continued kissing and nipping, not leaving me alone, so I finally groaned and rolled away from him. He didn't take the hint.

He snickered, tossing the blanket off of me then rolling me on my back, then pinned my hands above my head and spread my legs with his knees. I winced, just now remembering I got a tattoo last night. Oh God, I need to see this and make sure it was really good.

Manson began licking my neck and sucking harshly as I fought against his hold on me. "Mmm, yesss, you know it makes me want you more when you struggle", he moaned in my ear.

"Manson, get THE FUCK off of me!", I said sternly, causing a look of shock to flash over his face and then anger. Finally, after glaring at me a moment, he released me.

"What the fuck is your problem?", he asked still glaring.

I huffed and rolled over, pulling the cover over me again, only causing him to rip it off.

"Answer me, NOW!", he said, voice raising more and more.

Goddamn, his unnecessary tantrums get annoying as fuck. You can certainly tell he was an only child, used to throwing a fit until he got his way.

"Where the fuck were you last night?", I asked angrily, sitting up.

"I told you, I was staying the night with my parents. I even tried calling you several times to check on you, and you didn't answer. So I should be asking YOU, where the fuck were YOU last night?", he demanded getting noticeably angrier by the second.

"Don't you try to turn this shit around, I want to know where the fuck you were. Were you with your fucking whore that lives out here? Yeah, I know all about that.", I said.

His angered face turned to one of confusion. "Who told you about her?", he asked quietly.

"None of your goddamned business. Now were you with her?", I hissed, my hand trembling and ready to strike his beautiful face at any moment.

"No, I told you where I was. Look....", he said pulling out his phone and quickly dialed a number and put it on speaker phone.

After a moment, an older woman answered the phone.

"Hello mother, I was calling to tell you I enjoyed spending the day and night with you and dad", he said putting emphasis on 'day and night'. His mom probably thought he was weird, but I understood he was just proving to me that she would corroborate his story.

"Well we enjoyed having you here! You need to see us more often. And it was great hearing about your girlfriend Angel and how much you care about her. You need to bring her to meet us soon", she said. A blush crept up on Manson's face and I smiled.

He took the phone off of speaker, but I could hear her voice faintly echoing through the phone. "Okay, mother....Okay....Love you, too (awww)....bye", he said then hung up.

Manson looked at me smugly, then I held my arms out and hugged him. "I'm sorry, babe", I said.

"That's quite alright, but don't doubt me again", he said and I nodded.

"And the thing with my ex, is long over, and I certainly wouldn't cheat on you with her....So, who told you about her?", he asked.

"It doesn't matter", I said.

"It does, why would someone want to sow seeds of doubt in our relationship?", he stated, rubbing his hand up and down my back causing me to wince again.

This time, he pulled up my shirt and his eyes grew at the tattoo. "What the hell did you do?", he asked.

"Oh, I got a tattoo last night", I said, shying away. "I take it you don't like it....", I added, getting off the bed and walking over to the mirror to examine my tattoo. It looked really nice. I sighed a breath of relief.

Manson stood up and slowly walked over to me. "I like it, it's sexy, I just would like for you to consult with me before doing something like this", he said trailing a finger gently down the right wing.

"....But you looked as surprised as me seeing this tattoo, so gauging your reaction, I would say you got this tattoo while you were high, drunk, or maybe both" I gasped, how in the hell can he possibly know this shit?

He turned me to face him. "I'm going to assume it was both....now, am I right?", he asked, staring intently into my eyes, as if he could read my exact thoughts. I slowly nodded and his fist collided with my face, causing me fall into the mirror, cracking it in several places.

"You bitch! What the fuck did I tell you?!", he screamed in my face, then back handed me, his large rings making it all the more painful.

He gripped my throat and led me to the bed. "I told you, over and over, to not take drugs or drink unless I was with you and it was given to you BY ME", he hissed out through his teeth causing saliva to drip out, like a rabid dog.

"You fucking love this, don't you?! You love making me hit you! You WANT this!", he screamed an inch away from my face before his fist impacted with it again. He, of course, was being sarcastic, but as a matter of fact, yes, yes I do.

He sat on top of me, gripping my throat and slapping me repeatedly. "Now, I don't want you taking ANYTHING since it's apparent you're getting a problem and can't fucking control yourself, like a stupid, weak bitch!" he growled.

It's funny that he should say that, because I noticed he has quite the drug problem himself, worse than my innocent desires. I don't have a problem do I? Of course not, I could quit anytime I wanted.

He was the one that snorted line after line until his nose poured blood and he would be so hyper and twitchy that he would have to take handfuls of downers and muscle relaxers to calm himself before he had a heart attack. That wasn't the only problem he had either, I know he cuts himself, too. And he called ME weak? Fuck him.

After semi-strangling me and slapping me as I laid paralyzed underneath him, he stopped with remorse filled eyes. And herrrrre the apologies come....

"I'm sorry, Angel....I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you", he said lifting me in his arms. I suppose you hit people with boulders on your fingers to HEAL them? Annnd cue the waterworks....

His eyes filled with tears and he held me to his body.

After holding me a minute, he carried me to the bathroom and sat me on the counter. He wet a towel and began blotting at my face. I looked in the mirror and saw bruises forming and cuts covering my face.

"Let's get these covered", Manson said gently caressing my face. Yeah, let's cover your abuse, cover your little secret.

I obediently covered all the evidence as he rinsed my blood from his knuckles and rings.

He picked me up bridal style, and carried me back to the bed, and climbed in beside me, as if that little spat didn't just happen, as if I were supposed to forget he just choked me as he hit me like a man.

"I really am sorry, Angel. I will make it up to you", he whispered in my ear before he kissed me tenderly.

"It won't happen again, baby", he said. I'm quite sure it will....

***********************************

We spent all day in bed with Manson "making it up to me".

At various points in the day Manson would snort cocaine until his nose bled. He would continually complain that his nose hurt, yet would proceed to snort more. And again, as always, once he was at a scary point of being high, veins protruding, body twitching, he popped a handful of Vicodin....This time offering me none of either the cocaine or pills.

It was hard for me being around it when I wanted nothing more than to be high. I dug a fingernail into my side, trying to focus on the pain to take my mind off of it, but nothing could fully suppress the craving, I had to have it at any cost, even if Manson found out and beat my ass.

***********************************

The afternoon of the concert, Manson and the band left to rehearse, leaving Sarah and myself in the hotel.

As soon as I felt enough time has passed for them to all be loaded up in the car and gone, I walked as fast as I could out of the hotel to the tour bus, Sarah trailing after me curiously.

I was shaking violently anticipating getting high, especially knowing there was no way I would get caught.

I pulled out the cocaine and noticed I was sweating. I prepared two lines, snorted them, then made two more. I leaned my head back, sighing loudly, as I felt blood begin to drip from my nose, but I ignored it, closing my eyes as I felt the effects begin to course through my body.

When I opened my eyes, I saw Sarah staring at me with her mouth agape and seemingly on the brink of tears.

She cleared her throat and spoke, "....And you don't see a problem with...this?", she said as her voice cracked, gesturing her hand towards my pitiful display before her.

"It's rock-n-roll", I joked. She didn't seem amused.

"It's 'rock-n-roll' (she finger quoted) when you do a line once in a blue moon before a rock concert. It's 'rock-n-roll' when you do a line at a club before dancing to your favorite Marilyn Manson song....THIS is addiction. I think you have a problem, Angel", Sarah said.

"I'm fine, I have it under control.", I spat bitterly.

Sarah pulled me up from the couch by my arm and aggressively pulled me to the small bus bathroom.

"Fucking look at yourself!", she screamed.

I looked like Manson. My eyes were red and vascular, the pupil in my emerald eyes dilated so large that I could hardly see the green iris, my muscles twitched in my face, and blood trickled from my nose.

Okay, so I went a little overboard. It doesn't mean I have a problem, I just haven't gotten high in over 24 hours and got carried away.

I pulled away from Sarah and grabbed some toilet paper to begin cleaning the blood. "You're such a goddamned hypocrite", I stated.

"Furthest from it. I just don't want to see you end up as a fucking junkie or dead!", Sarah yelled.

I scoffed. "Alright, Cindy", I mocked, by calling her by her mother's name, causing her to turn and leave the bus. Fucking finally. Maybe now I can enjoy my high in peace.

***********************************

There was just enough time for me to come down from my high as Manson and the others came piling in the tour bus.

Manson immediately paced up to me and held my face up to look at him, staring into my eyes. He looked at me suspiciously, narrowing his eyes a bit, but since it has been so long since I snorted the cocaine, I knew he couldn't tell for sure.

He kissed my forehead and informed me that we were heading to the venue now and I needed to get changed.

I felt a smug satisfaction in getting it past him that I just got high, now I knew there was nothing that could stop me from getting what I wanted, I just had to be more careful.

Manson and I went to the hotel room and he cleaned my tattoo for me. Then, he showed me a slutty outfit he bought me for his concert tonight, a skintight black leather dress that I had to constantly tug down or my ass would hang out, complete with fishnets and a studded collar-like choker.

"I look like a goth whore", I said, jokingly.

"So will I", Manson said grinning, holding up a leather corset with a matching leather thong, with ripped stockings, and a garter belt, that he would be wearing tonight.

I died laughing, he managed to make his outfit sluttier than mine. But I'm sure he would look absolutely delicious in it.

Manson gets ready in the dressing rooms at the venue, so after I got ready, we quickly left the hotel and outside to the tour bus.

We held hands as we entered the bus. Everyone greeted us and Twiggy greeted me with his typical huge, brotherly hug, once again nothing sexual behind it, but Marilyn still tensed up and glared at us both. I do enjoy his jealousy, I really do.

We arrived quickly and the headed inside before anyone else arrived, the roadies carrying in their equipment and setting everything up. Afterwards, the band did sound checks and went over the first and last song.

Everything went smoothly, so they went backstage to get dressed and have their hair and makeup done. Everyone came out from their dressing room and sat on the couch, waiting for the concert to start.

Pogo pulled out a bag of cocaine, and everyone grouped around for their line....including me.

Manson was in his dressing room fixing his makeup for the millionth time, so I decided I would go ahead and take a do a line.

Pogo handed me the rolled dollar bill and smiled. All the guys smiled. Creepy. But nonetheless I leaned over and snorted my line.

"Good shit, right?", Pogo asked.

"Veeery good shit", I replied.

Everyone laughed and nodded in agreement.

It was just what I needed. It felt so good. All my nervousness and fear that I always carry with me melted away. I didn't give a fuck. And it felt GREAT.

Sarah didn't do any, and looked annoyed as Pogo snorted more. She was really becoming a bitch. She glared at Pogo, but he just pulled her into a kiss and they starting making out. Cute, but gross.

Just then Manson walked in.

"Baby, I wanted to know if....", his voice trailed off as he looked in my eyes.

His eyes turned to anger. Oh well. Who gives a fuck? I DON'T.

"I told you I didn't want you taking anything else since you can't control yourself", he said through gritted teeth.

I burst out laughing and he tensed up with more anger.

"Fuck you", I said still cackling.

The rest of the band turned their attention to us now and they began cackling as well.

This pissed Manson off more. STILL don't give a fuck.

"I swear to god, Angel...." But Manson was interrupted by a stage hand who told them it was time to go on stage.

Only then could I hear the chants of the crowd screaming my boyfriend's name.

Manson quickly shuffled through the door, but he had a tight grasp on my arm.

"We will continue this conversation later", he said then placed a kiss on my cheek.

Maybe he wasn't too mad after all.

Sarah slipped her hand in mine and we jumped like school girls in excitement as we saw them take the stage. We always stay to the side of the stage, where we can see perfectly, but the curtain guards us so the crowd can't see us.

Manson smiled at me and during certain songs it felt as if he were singing directly to me. It was so sweet, even in his anger he could manage to show small acts of kindness.

Sarah and I danced and ground on each other relentlessly, feeling each other up.

Pogo and Manson seemed to enjoy watching this. Although it seemed Pogo's eyes were more on me most of that time.

Sarah and I were sweating profusely so a stage hand brought us a drink, wet towel, and 2 fold chairs.

When Sarah dabbed her face, it took off some of her makeup and I noticed it....a small bruise below her eye.

She gasped and turned away when she realized I was staring.

"I already saw, what happened?", I asked sort of already knowing what happened.

"Oh, um, I-I don't know....", she stuttered nervously. "I probably fell when I was drunk or something", she spoke again then pulled makeup out her purse and began to re-cover the bruise.

I could tell she was lying. But I decided to drop it if she didn't want to talk about it.

We weren't as energetic and playful as they continued the concert, especially when Manson set fire to Sara Lee Lucas' drums. We weren't expecting that, even though he had been complaining to me about how he needed a new drummer. But when the concert came to an end, we chanted and screamed loudly.

All the guys came back and we bounced around, and cheered for them.

I wrapped my arms around Manson's neck and hugged him.

"You did so good tonight, baby", I whispered in his ear.

He was tense and I could feel his bitterness and anger, but with that, he loosened up and wrapped his arms around my waist tightly and pecked my neck with a gentle kiss.

"Awwww, you guys", Twiggy called to us in a childish voice.

We laughed and pulled apart, but Manson's arm snaked around my waist and he held me firmly. I loved it when he held me tightly like that.

"We are going to a club, you guys. Are you coming?", Twiggy asked.

Manson glanced towards me as to ask me if I wanted to, and I nodded.

"Yeah, let's go", Manson said.

***********************************************

We were all having a great time at the club and danced and drank.

Finally, everyone was around the table together again. Then Pogo pulled out more cocaine.

Manson glared at me, as if to say 'don't you dare'.

I flashed him an innocent gaze, but I had every intention on filling my nose again before the night was over.

Everyone snorted some, including Manson, and then began mindlessly babbling.

I couldn't keep up with their conversation and kept zoning out. Partially because of the mindless high ramble and partially because I was so focused on how I was going to get some of the cocaine in front of me without Manson stopping me.

I fidgeted with my hair and was interrupted by Manson.

"I need to piss, be right back, and I swear if you touch it you will regret it", he whispered.

Whatever. As soon as he turned the corner, GUESS WHAT? I rolled a dollar bill, covered a nostril, and snorted away. Two lines. Ha.

I was finishing a line when...."WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!", Manson was there and caught me. Oh well, he would have been able to tell anyways.

I didn't answer, just leaned back in my chair and lit up a cigarette.

"Fucking relax, man", Pogo said.

"Mind your goddamned business", Manson said seething with anger.

Twiggy, who was sitting between them, put his arm around them both.

"Whoa, stop it you two. Have a drink", he said in his childish voice and slid them each a shot of whiskey.

They didn't say anything else, but Manson kept glaring at us both.

Daisy, walked away for a moment and came back with a bag of pills. Ecstasy he said.

He passed them around and everyone took one, except Manson.

At the last minute, I reached out and took one from him and quickly popped it in my mouth.

Manson leaned over, "bitch, you will fucking regret that", he said.

Fuck him.

"I guarantee that", he added.

Fuuuuuck him.

Just then it began to kick in on top of my cocaine high. Whoa.

Every sensation and positive emotion was intensified.

"Wait till we get back to the goddamn bus bitch, I'm going to beat your mother fucking stupid slut ass", Manson growled.

My pleasure, my mother fucking pleasure.

I stood up and pulled Sarah to the dance floor with me.

In League by Bile came on and Sarah and I danced. The lights flashing and our bodies rubbing on ecstasy felt fucking amazing.

Everyone else was coming to the dance floor and finding random whores.

But Manson remained seated at the table glaring at me still.

I stuck a middle finger in the air in his direction.

He clenched his jaw tightly and jumped up from the table.

What was he going to do? Come hit me? Ha.

But I was wrong. He went to the bar and began leaning in and flirting with the bartender wearing a Marilyn Manson shirt, rubbing his hand down her arm and her playing with his hair.

Two can play that game, mother fucker.

I began scouring the dance floor for men, several were checking me out, but I needed to find the right one.

Manson watched me and then pulled the bartender in for a kiss.

Surprisingly, it didn't bother me. Maybe it was the drugs. It made me stop caring about everything and everyone.

I watched as they went hand in hand to a bathroom.

They reemerged some time later, he had lipstick smeared on his neck, and they were adjusting their clothes. He came out buckling his belt and grinned evilly at me.

Little did he know, I DON'T GIVE A FLYING FUCK.

At that moment, I grabbed the arm of a man decked in black leather and long hair that had been checking me out, and began dancing with him and ground my leather, scantily clad ass against his crotch.

Manson was over there within seconds and punched him in his face so hard, he flew backwards on the floor. He began stomping and beating the man until his band mates and security was pulling him off.

The security told us we had to leave, so we all piled out of the club and began walking to the bus.

No sooner as we entered, Manson was pulling me by my arm to the back room. He kept his promise.

He back handed me as soon as the door closed.

"YOU GODDAMN BITCH!", he yelled.

I doubted anyone heard seeing as if the music on the bus was turned up to a deafening volume.

"HOW DARE YOU DISOBEY ME AND TAKE DRUGS WHEN I TOLD YOU NOT TO, YOU FUCKING JUNKIE BITCH?!". Then he punched me.

"HOW DARE YOU HUMILIATE ME IN FRONT OF EVERYONE, BITCH?!", he was punching me repeatedly at this point, from my face to my stomach.

"HOW DARE YOU FUCKING BE A LITTLE SLUT AND DANCE WITH ANOTHER MAN! YOU GODDAMN FILTHY WHORE! DIRTY ASS TRAMP!". The merciless punching continued. Then he suddenly stopped.

He pulled off of me and left me in a ball on the floor. Then he stood over me and pulled me by my hair.

He led me around by my hair while I was on my hands and knees all over the room.

"YOU WANT TO ACT LIKE A LITTLE BITCH? CRAWL LIKE A LITTLE DOG BITCH THAT YOU ARE, TRAMP!".

It was so degrading. The beating didn't even bother me, but this did.

Then he let go of my hair finally and kicked me in the ribs. Repeatedly.

I doubled over and gasped for air, sobbing uncontrollably, my hair sticking to my tears.

He leaned down and whispered "pathetic bitch" in my ear then walked out the room slamming the door behind him.

Remember when I said every sensation was intensified on ecstasy? Well this made the beating twice as bad.

I pulled myself up and toppled on the bed.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the full length mirror on the door and saw I was covered in welts, bruises, cuts, and contusions.

And even in my agony and pain, humiliation and torment....I didn't care. I didn't care about myself or love myself. All I could think about was getting high again to numb this pain.

***********************************************

I cried myself to sleep that night and woke up the next morning with a throbbing headache and completely sore....And alone.

Manson never came back in the room.

I tried to stand to see where he went off to, but I fell back in pain. Shit.

I grabbed a cigarette and lit it, inhaling deeply.

Then there was a knock at the door. There he is.

"Angel? Are you okay in there? You haven't came out all day?"....It was Sarah. Fuck. Just perfect.

"I-I don't feel too well, leave me alone for now.", I semi-lied.

"Angel...."

"I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE FOR NOW, SARAH, GODDAMN!", I yelled, grabbing my head as I did so from the excruciating pain.

I could hear her breath at the door for a minute then footsteps walking away.

About an hour rolled by and then someone opened the door.

I shot up thinking it was Sarah and mortified that she would find me beaten like this, but it was only Manson.

He quietly came shut the door and locked it then crept into bed with me, not making eye contact.

Probably out drugging and drinking with whores, yet he doesn't let me do it. Such a goddamned hypocrite. Controlling asshole.

"Look, Angel, we need to talk", he finally spoke.

I kept my head down and gaze towards the bed....Disgusting cum stains. Fucking nasty bastard.

"Things got out of hand last night and I'm sorry I hit you."

Ugh, here we go again.

"I'm so, so sorry", he added.

This guy....At least he's dropped the whole 'it won't happen again' act, though.

"But I'm not sorry as to WHY it happened. You need to learn to respect me and do as I say, not as I do. Understand your place".

The fuck??

"And since you can't seem to behave like a rational adult, then I need to do it for you. And the more you rebel, we will step up the punishment....."

Wow. This is getting worse and worse.

"Do you understand me?", he asked sternly.

Biiitch....

"DO YOU?!", he asked loudly.

I nodded. But I don't agree or understand. I just need to learn to be more discrete. I just broke away from being ordered around and having my decisions made for me and he thinks I'm going back to that shit? Fuck that.
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The Road To Hell