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Tainted Love	By : FlameWolf666 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Marilyn Manson Views: 3468 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Marilyn Manson or anything affiliated with him or the band. I don't know any of these famous people in real life and none of this story happened. This is fiction and just for fun. I make no profit from this.

Chapter List
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Author's Note: Incoming angst! Get them tissues man!

Chapter Two: Spiraling Out of Control
Raven hadn't left her room since they had come back from the concert. When Amanda had eventually met up with her she had been wandering around in an almost zombie state. Her eyes were alarmingly dead and void of emotion, causing concern to shoot through her. Raven had resisted any questions, instead staying silent for the entire trip home. She simply stared out at the passing landscape, her eyes dead and hollow.
As soon as they got home she had gone up to her room, leaving Amanda to let Lady in. There she had stayed for the past three days. She didn't even know if Raven had eaten anything. Not even music came from the room and that was really unusual. Usually her friend would play Marilyn Manson when she was upset. She began to wonder if what happened had anything to do with the singer.
Raven ignored the phone as it rang again for the 20^th time that day. A familiar ring tone of 'Last Day on Earth' let her know that it was once again Manson trying to get a hold of her. Sighing sadly, she rolled to face away from the ringing phone. She had only put in the number and gave it a ring tone so she wouldn't accidentally pick up. Despite what he had said at the concert, doubt filled her. It was impossible for anyone to develop interest in someone that quickly, right? Unwilling to pick up the ringing, deep red phone, she closed her eyes and waited for him to give up. It would be better for her if she just forgot him anyway.
Manson glared down at the phone as he was informed her mailbox was full. She hadn't listened to his messages but she hadn't deleted them either. Sighing in frustrated worry, he closed his phone and put it in his pocket. He was almost considering trying to find her but he didn't even know where she lived. Growling in frustration, he poured himself a glass of vodka mixed with absinthe; knocking it down in one gulp as if it was nothing. He hated feeling this powerless.
Amanda stood in front of her friend's silent room, straining her ears to hear any sign of life. The only noise she heard was a soft ring tone playing a song that sounded familiar to her. Then it hit her, it was 'Last Day on Earth' the song Raven had sung to Manson with such emotion. Was it possible that Manson was trying to get a hold of Raven? If that was true, why wasn't Raven answering it. Unable to stand it anymore, Amanda flung open the door and stormed inside.
Raven was fast asleep, her almost bruised eyes tightly shut. Dried tear trails were on her cheeks and she was very thin. It looked as if she hadn't been eating or sleeping. Amanda moved toward the still ringing phone, looking at the name on the display in near disbelief. The name read 'Marilyn Manson'. Looking guiltily at her friend, she took the phone and left the room.
Manson was about to resign himself to getting the mailbox full message again when it sounded like the phone was answered. “Raven?” he breathed, a bit of relief and hope coming into his voice.
“No, this is her friend Amanda. What happened that night?” asked a strange, female voice.
His heart plummeting to the floor, he fought the urge to demand the woman on the line let him talk to Raven. “We were getting to know each other when I had to leave. I gave her my number but I think she thinks this is a trick of some sort,” he answered, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took deep, calming breaths.
“Well that explains some things at least. Look, she isn't doing too well. She hasn't left her room in three days, hasn't eaten and it looks like she hasn't been sleeping much,” the female on the other end reported, her voice thick with concern.
What she told him made him tighten his grip on the phone hard enough to make the plastic creak. He was going to kill that manager the next time he saw the man. “I'll book a flight tonight. I'll be there as soon as I can,” he growled into the phone, clenching his jaw.
“Well you'll probably need to know where we live for that,” the female replied, almost sounding amused.
Amanda hung up, a feeling of guilt burning deep in her stomach. She felt bad for calling a man her friend obviously didn't want to see to help her. Yet she knew it would be better for Raven to have him here. The sound of violent vomiting made her head shoot up in concern. Going pale, the curly haired female sprinted up the stairs two at a time. To her horror she saw a trail of what looked like very diluted blood on the floor leading to the bathroom. Her heart thumping loudly in her chest, Amanda knocked on the door.
Raven rested her head on the cool porcelain bowl of the toilet, panting heavily as a pink trickle of blood slid down her chin. She had been dry heaving for days due to her not eating, it must have finally torn a hole in he esophagus. Flushing the alarmingly bright red, foamy liquid, Raven startled at the gentle knock. “I'm fine! Just a hole in the esophagus!” she called out hoarsely, spitting a wad of bloody tissue into the toilet bowl.
Amanda wasn't at all reassured but took the opportunity to return the phone to where she had gotten it from. She briefly pondered if she should tell Raven what she had done but decided against it. It would probably cause the woman to go into further seclusion or run away altogether. For reasons unknown to her, it seemed like her friend was afraid of getting what she truly wanted.
As the day wore on, Amanda got more and more worried. Raven was vomiting a lot more often, more and more blood coming up each time. Had her friend eaten something to attempt suicide? Worry clenched her heart as she stared at the phone on the wall. She was very close to calling the hospital for an ambulance to pick up her friend.
Raven gasped harshly, a bloody string of drool stretching from her lip to the lip of the toilet. The bowl was full of thick, red liquid; making a spike of panic enter her brain. She shouldn't be throwing up this much blood if it was just a torn esophagus. The panic quickly changed to acceptance as she collapsed against the tub. If her body just wanted to die, she would let it. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she locked the door to the bathroom.
A loud, insistent knock broke Amanda out of her worried thoughts as she stared upstairs. Raven had at least stopped vomiting but she was still highly concerned for her friend. Wondering who was at the door at ten at night, Amanda opened the door; her jaw dropping in shock when she saw who was standing on her doorstep.
Manson looked around almost desperately before his eyes settled on her. “Where is she?” he asked, a hard edge to his voice as his mismatched eyes narrowed. He was dressed in all black and wore a long, black leather trench-coat.
“She's upstairs in her room I think,” she answered, blinking rapidly; as if sure this was a dream that would disappear.
Shoving past her, the tall rock star mounted the stars two at a time until he was upstairs. Her room stood open and empty but the door to the bathroom across the hall was tightly shut. Seeing the puddles of blood on the floor, the singer went even more pale as he fairly pounded on the bathroom door. “Raven! Open the door!” he yelled, hoping that she hadn't done anything foolish.
Raven lifted her head blearily at the familiar voice, tiredness filling her very bones. “Go away, she gasped out weakly, barely able to make her voice heard.
“Raven! Either open this door or I'm breaking it down!” yelled a concerned yet furious male voice. Something about it tugged at her memory.
“I said go away!” she yelled back, her weak, squeaky voice cracking. Silence followed and she briefly hoped whoever was out there had gone away. Then something heavy slammed into the door from the other side.
Amanda came running up, alarmed by the sudden slam. As she watched, Manson backed up into Raven's room before running into the door; putting all his weight behind it. The wood of the door made an alarming cracking noise as it bowed slightly inward. “What are you doing?!” she exclaimed, horrified.
“She's locked herself in there and won't open the door,” he snarled, backing up and slamming himself into the door again. The wood of the door cracked loudly as it began to bend severely inward. A determined look on his pale face, the scrawny singer backed up and slammed into the door again; taken off balance when it finally gave.
His mismatched eyes immediately flew to the barely conscious Raven, sucking in a harsh hiss at the sight of her. The front of her night shirt, which was really a huge Marilyn Manson t-shirt, was covered in deep red blood. More blood sat in the bowl of the toilet and splattered the inside of the bowl. Not normally squeamish, he found himself nearly vomiting at the sight of this mess. Raven glanced up at him with half focused eyes, a string of bloody drool dangling from her blood coated lips.
Barely able to keep from losing it right there, Manson knelt in front of Raven and wiped her mouth clean with a handkerchief. “M-marilyn?” she gasped out in a dazed, confused voice.
“Shhh,” he hushed, gently picking her up. Avoiding looking at the horrible mess in the toilet, he gingerly carried her to her room; ignoring the horrified gasp of the other female.
Gently, as if she was made of glass, he pulled her night shirt off her. He averted his eyes away from her politely as he went to a dresser. Opening the top drawer, he rummaged around in the many shirts until he found one large enough to act as her nightgown. Then, just as gently, got her dressed and picked her up again. Acting as if he was carrying an extremely fragile piece of glass, he carried her out of the room and down the stairs. “Where are you taking her?” asked the curly haired woman who was following behind him.
“To a hospital,” he growled, his voice cold and hard. Inside he seethed with a deep rage. He hoped to whatever god was up there the woman simply hadn't know Raven was throwing up blood. Otherwise he would have a few choice words for her.
“Is she really bad?” she asked in a horrified whisper, her green eyes filling with worry.
“Yes, I pray she even makes it to the hospital,” he bit out as he gently laid Raven down in the back of his blood red rental Jaguar.
“C-can I come,” Amanda asked, her heart clenching with guilt as well as worry. She should have just called an ambulance. If Raven died, she would never forgive herself.
“No,” he answered curtly, giving her a cold look full of accusation. The look shot through her like a knife, making her collapse to her knees as tears slid down her face.
“I- I didn't know she was so...,” she stammered, knowing it wasn't an excuse but wanting something to help explain herself.
Manson merely snorted at her as he got into the car and practically peeled out of the driveway. He rode the gas all the way to the hospital, expertly weaving in and out of the traffic. By some miracle no cops were called on his ass and he pulled up to the hospital unmolested. When he parked he got out, going to the back and gingerly picking up the now unconscious Raven.
Holding her as tightly as he dared, he ran to the doors of the hospital; the tails of his trench-coat flapping behind him. The doctors, nurses and patients all startled, looking at him with a mix of wonder and recognition. Ignoring the stares he was getting, the trench-coat clad singer approached the desk; holding Raven gently. The nurse behind the desk was looking at him with a mix of disbelief and wonder. “She needs help,” he snarled, snapping her out of her star struck trance.
The blonde haired nurse's gray-blue eyes flicked to the unconscious female in his arms, noticing just how pale she looked. “What's been happening?” she asked.
“She hasn't been eating, hasn't been sleeping and started throwing up blood today,” he answered, looking aggravated and impatient.
“How much blood has she thrown up?” the young nurse asked, concern knitting her brow as she reached for the phone beside her computer.
“It looked like a lot,” he growled, watching the nurse press a button on the phone.
Almost immediately a group of male nurses with a gurney came flying down the hall. Gently, the singer set Raven on the gurney; watching as they ran her down the hall. “Um, just take a seat. A doctor will come to tell you of her situation,” the nurse suggested, her blue-gray eyes roaming over him. Only giving a curt nod in response, the rock star sat in a seat in a semi-secluded spot in the crowded waiting room.
Time had crawled by unbearably slow, it felt like it had been years when it had only been a few minutes. He was about ready to force his way into the back and demand to know what was wrong with Raven. All the people staring at him didn't help matters either. A few were even daring each other to go ask for an autograph. If anyone asked him for an autograph he was going to rip their head off and stuff it down their throat. Unfortunately the sudden flashes of cameras being clicked announced the untimely arrival of the paparazzi.
The doctor came out to find the waiting room in absolute chaos, a famous shock rocker in the middle of a swarm of knocked out press people. Quirking his brow in confusion, the overweight, balding doctor had to admit he hadn't believed the nurse that said Marilyn Manson had brought the woman in. “Erm, Mr. Manson?” the doctor asked hesitantly, almost jumping when the towering rocker turned his baleful gaze to him.
Suddenly the singer was right in front of him, looking down with angry mismatched eyes. “Well?” he asked, a hint of desperation under his voice.
“It was just a badly torn esophagus. We cauterized the wound and have her on I.V. fluids. She's resting comfortably,” the doctor answered, trying not to show just how much this man scared him. To his surprise, the infamous Antichrist Superstar nearly went to his knees in relief.
“Oh thank fuck,” he whispered in a slightly shaky voice before looking back at the doctor, “Can I see her?”
“Erm, no. Its past visiting hours so only family can come to see her,” the doctor replied, wishing he had given a different answer when the super star's eyes took on a deadly edge.
“Try that again,” he hissed, his eyes narrowed and his voice dripping with deadly promise.
“I-I mean, of course you can! Go right ahead!” the overweight doctor stammered, sweat springing onto his brow.
With an irritated snort, Manson shoved past the doctor and entered the area behind the double doors. A male nurse was standing nearby and jumped when the singer slammed his way into the quiet hall. His eyes went wide as he recognized just who the person was. Manson, noticing the nurse, turned his attention to the young man. “Where's Raven's room?” he bit out, his voice full of impatience.
“Wha? Oh that woman everyone says you brought in. Yeah, she's in room 10,” the male nurse responded, pointing down the hall. As the singer made his way to the room, the nurse wondered just who the woman was to the singer.
He quietly opened the door, gasping slightly when he saw the state Raven was in. She had two I.V.s in her arm and she was fast asleep. Her pale skin accentuated the almost purple dark circles under her eyes. She looked so thin and vulnerable that he wanted nothing more than to protect her. His brow knitting with concern, he entered the room and went to the side of her bed. Hesitantly, he took her pale hand in his and brushed the top of it with his thumb.
The woman in the bed had touched him quite deeply with the way she had sung 'Last Day on Earth'. It felt like she had been singing the song just for him, filling it with all the love she felt for him. Even with all of his past girlfriends he had never felt such an unconditional love from another. The fact that she felt so strongly for him drew him to her. All he wanted right now was for her to open her eyes so he knew she was alright.
Raven groaned slightly, her hazel eyes feeling like they were weighted with cement as she tried to open them. “Raven?” asked an unsure, very familiar male voice from beside her. Groaning again, she valiantly tried to force her heavy eyelids open; managing to get them halfway open. Her vision was so blurred all she could see was a large black and white blur beside her bed.
Suddenly she was being hugged roughly, shaking arms holding her tightly. “You're awake. You're okay,” a male voice growled in her ear, filled with relief. Why did the voice sound so familiar? Also why was he here? She had no male friends and her family had disowned her long ago. Trying to force her eyes to focus, Raven tried to make out her mystery visitor.
Much too slowly for her liking, the man holding her slowly came into focus but what she saw didn't help identify him. Since he was hugging her, all she could see was the black trench-coat he was wearing. Then he slowly pulled back and she gasped as she saw who it was. Marilyn Manson stared down at her with relief filled mismatched eyes, a small smile on his black lips. “M-marilyn Manson?! Wh-what?” she stammered, confused as well as flustered.
“I told you I was interested in getting to know you,” he responded, his smile of relief turning into a smirk.
“I don't... why are you here?! Why am I in a hospital?” she asked, confusion filling her voice. The singer's eyes went sad for a moment before taking on a hard edge.
“I had been trying to get a hold of you for a while if you recall. You never answered but I kept calling. When I want something, I don't give up easy. Last time I called, your 'friend' picked up and told me what was going on with you,” he answered, his eyes boring into her.
Memories of what happened flooded back to her, causing her to gasp. She remembered being in the bathroom, barely conscious, when a man outside the door ordered her to let him in. She dimly remembered Manson entering the room and cleaning her off. “Y-you broke down the bathroom door,” she replied, her voice filling with wonder.
“Yes, I took an express flight to here to find you. You were pretty bad when I got to you,” Manson whispered, his voice cracking slightly.
Raven blinked at the sliver of raw emotion in the singer's voice. It almost sounded like he had been afraid for her. The thought made her feel warm all over as butterflies took flight in her stomach. “Th-thank you,” she whispered, her voice shaky. Blushing deeply from being flustered, Raven kept her focus on the white hospital sheets in her hand.
“S-so what now?” she asked timidly, her heart beating in her throat. Her chin was suddenly grabbed in a gentle grip as her head was forced up.
“Now, I get to know you. Right after I get you home,” he responded, a smirk on his face.
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Tainted Love