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Playgirl	By : Obsolescence Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Marilyn Manson Views: 2350 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Marilyn Manson. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Genre: Angst, chaptered, violent
Word count: 25.223
Pairing(s): Manson/Tim, Sascha/Tim
Characters: Manson, Tim, & Sascha
Warnings/Spoilers: This story contains extreme abuse, rape, torture, sex, cursing, and Swedish.
Author Notes: Every review you give will go to the change the way Manson fan fiction is written fund. Thank you for your support and donation.

Thank you all for your feedback. It does mean a lot to me, I never thought my writing would be liked by a general audience. this story is sitting and just waiting to be uploaded. Again thank you kindly. Honestly after this chapter there is only one more.

Also, there is more than one chapter to this, if you want the others just say so in your review. As my profile says I write for me and I have a hard time knowing if a reader wants more.

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I sat up quickly, my eyes darting around the room. I slowed my breath once I realized he was sound asleep. I let my body fall against the pillows. My ass then deciding it was going to make its self known. I rolled over to my side, my hips not closing properly making the whole sleeping thing nearly impossible.

I, again, sat up hissing out all the air from my lungs. I took a deep breath and swung my feet off the bed. Standing up awkwardly, my hips further apart than usual making my normal walk near impossible. I grabbed my folded clothes and pulled them on, tearing through my lip as I lifted my legs to slip on my pants.

Limping slightly as I left the room.

I couldn’t be near him any longer. Just laying next to him was painful. I wondered around the house for a while. I let out a soft sigh and headed up to my room, opening the window and pulling out the screen.

I looked down form my third story window the slid onto the sill of the window. Growling as I balanced myself on my knees to get up to my feet. I reached out, and grabbed the gutter, hoisting myself up some before grabbing the little lip of the slanted roof and pulling myself up.

I reached down and closed my window, most of the way, enough so I could still get back in. Slowly crawling on the slanted tiles, I gripped at the shingles finding my way up to the highest point and slowly laying back.

I looked up to the sky. It was a clear night, and slightly warm. Which was wonderful as I still had residual chills from the day in the box. I could see the lights from the city from here which was why it was one of my favorite spots. I leaned back and stared up at the sky. It was late, the sky was dark, and the stars were brighter than usual.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it slowly. Wondering if someone was trying to see the moon, (that was behind me) with a telescope just saw my face. I quickly pushed away thoughts like that, I didn’t want to think about my face, I didn’t want to think about anything involving me. But I had to think about something, so, I settled on thinking about, how much I missed nicotine.

Coughing slightly as I leaned back against the shingles, focusing on other things than the shooting pain from my thighs and ass. I started to count the stars, knowing it was futile to count them all but a wonderful past time when one feels like the world is crashing down around them and ripping apart their body.

Taking slow drags I watched as the smoke danced around in the breeze that I hadn’t known existed. I slowly reached up, to destroy a ring of smoke. I looked back up at the stars, trying to find constellations, I only knew a few, and I longed for company who knew more.

“Tim.”

“Yeah?”

“See that?” He pointed upwards I scooted closer toward him leaning my head on his shoulder, so I could see properly at where he was pointing.

“Yeah.”

“That’s Cassiopeia.” I raised an eyebrow.

“No that’s a star.”

“No, the grouping, see,” he slowly drew it out. “The grouping of stars is called Cassiopeia. She was a vain queen.”

I pointed up to the sky and drew out Cassiopeia, by the stars just like he had.

He pointed to another, “And that’s Andromeda” He drew the lines of it.

“What is she?”

“The chained princess.”

“Do they all have names?”

“Ja. That’s Perseus, and that’s Auriga.” He pointed the stars out to me.

“I never knew you liked stars.”

“I do, they are pretty amazing. Think about it, They are probably all dead yet we can still see them so some small part of them still lives.”

“That’s a little too deep for me, they are just stars.”

“What happened if you woke up one morning and they were gone?”

“Then they’d be gone.”

“I think the sky would be lonely.”

The sky would be lonely and pretty stark, and scare me. The light affirmed that something beyond here existed, without that it would look like we were floating in some void. We would all be lonely.

I sat up slowly to put my cigarette out on the roof, and I crawled over to the other side to look at the moon. And a new collection of stars. Of course, this side was the side of the house Manson’s room was on as well as the “backyard”. I wondered about it for a moment. It was a crescent and I always thought that the dark side of the moon would win for a few days then the light side would retaliate and win for far longer.

“Tim!” I sat up quickly, upon hearing his voice. I crawled down to the gutter near the backyard. I looked down and there he was stopping around looking for me. Scrambling to get into my room as soon as possible before he saw me on the roof. I reached down and opened my window and crawled inside quickly replacing the screen and slamming the pane of glass shut.

I sat on my bed, knowing that just being here, was going to get me injured, but if I was on the roof. “Outside” without his permission. I shuddered at the thought of the consequences. I could hear his foot steps marching outside of my room, The door slammed open.

“What are you doing in here?” He was walking toward me.

“I was going to change.”

“Well then why haven’t you.”

“I can barely walk. It’s taking a lot of time to do anything.”

“So you’ve been sitting down for two hours?”

“No.”

“Well, then please enlighten me where you were for the hour I was screaming your name?”

“I was. . .”

“Hiding?”

“Sure.” He grabbed my shoulders and pushed me down against the bed. Climbing on top of me.

“Don’t be so disrespectful.” He growled at me, flecks of saliva finding a home on me.

“I’m sorry, I was just wondering around. I was lost in thought so in a way–”

“Don’t give me excuses.”

“I’m not!” I said desperately, my voice cracking like some 13-year-old boy.

“Yes, you are.” He signed his hand coming up to stroke my hair. “Tim look at what I’ve given you, and I have been kind to your rebellious nature, but this is the final straw. You leave me with no other option.”

“Please, I’ve been really good.”

“No you’ve been slyly disrespecting me since the beginning of this. I am just trying to make you a better person, now I have to punish you.” If I hadn’t been so afraid, I’d be angry.

“Tim, I hate to do this to you.”

“Please I won’t leave your side, just don’t do this.” I was crying again.

“I have to, I have been far too lenient with you. You need to understand why I am doing this, You think I get pleasure out of this don’t you? No, that is not the reason. I am trying to get you to be a better person and so much more than you used to be.”

“Pl–”

“That’s enough begging, I’m not going to sway.” He slipped off the bed and looked around my room. “Pack all of this up.” I raised an eyebrow,

“Why?”

“Pack. It. Up.” I began to shuffle things around packing everything that was important to me.

“No, pack everything up. I’ll even give you your computer. But all of this is being moved.” He left the room and I slowly undid all the cords and things from around my room, while he was gone I stuffed my remaining things from Sascha into a box and covered it with books.

He came back in with boxes.”You have one hour to have all this packed up.”

I glanced at my clock it was 3:42 in the morning. I nodded at him as he spun and exited the room. Running around packing things as quickly as possible. Glancing up at the clock to keep tabs on the time. As it got closer to the stopping time, I began to panic wrapping everything up quickly and shoving it into boxes.

At 4:42 on the dot he came into my room. He looked around and reached his hand up to my cheek, I jerked away from it.

“I’m not going to hit you, fitta.” I flinched. “I am just proud that you are starting to learn how to obey orders. Now, we need to move these to your new room. So grab some boxes and I’ll take you to it.”

I grabbed the box I didn’t want him to look through and two that didn’t matter and followed him down the stairs and across the hall way to the basement door. I wanted to shake, cry, run, kick him, anything but wonder down those stairs.

But I followed, trying to walk as slowly as possible. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, he turned to the right, and for a minute, I thought that the torture room was going to be my new sanctuary. Instead we walked through a narrow hallway that I thought lead to a dead end. Manson again pulled out his keys and opened up the door.

“This is an old bomb shelter and your new bedroom. The door unlocks from the inside but only with a copy of this key.” He wiggled it in front of my face. “I modified it so there is a bathroom attached. Also, there is a lot of closet space with cleaning supplies.” I cocked my head and walked inside.

It wasn’t huge and it wasn’t small. I set down the boxes by my new bed and carefully walked out of the room to grab more. I don’t know how many trips I made up and down those stairs. But once all my things were in my new room he slammed the metal door, and it locked.

I slowly unpacked everything. Finding a place for everything. Trying to make this room look like less of a bomb shelter and more like a bedroom. I knew the internet was wireless, but he could figure out a way to cut it off, I hoped he wouldn’t. It was one of the only things that kept me sane. I wondered around my new room, plugging in all my electronics and booting up my computer. I checked the time. It was nine o’clock in the morning. And I was tired. I put on some music and walked over to my new bed. It was a cot, but still comfortable.

I closed my eyes and willed my tired body to sleep. I laid there for a while, getting more and more frustrated as the seconds passed. I could hardly move my sore muscles, yet I couldn’t sleep. I sighed and slowly walked to my bathroom and started a bath. Making sure it was warm, I slowly pulled off my clothes bracing myself on the counter to kick off my pants.

I made my way to the bath and slipped in. My muscles immediately realizing the water wasn’t a threat. They slowly relaxed, my mind relaxing as well. For once nothing clouded it other than the want of a cigarette.

I sighed softly realizing that the water was getting cold. I pulled myself out of the bath and wrapped a towel around myself and found some clothes, putting them on and returning the towel onto its hanger so it could dry. I walked to my bed and pulled the comforter up to my chin. I snuggle up against my pillow, burying the side of my face into it.

And sleep came. For a grand total of twenty minutes. I bolted up and looked around my room, it was pitch black. My computer had a faint glow, but some thing in me told me to turn it off. I followed my instincts and turned it off. After I did, I found that my clocks had gone dead. I attempted to turn on my computer to no avail. I got on all fours and began to scout the room for my clothes from last night.

When I found them I pulled out my lighter and lit it looking around the room. Trying to remember if I still had those candles. I started to dig through my boxes coming across one I lit the wick and used it to try to find others. As I was about to light them, I thought about it.

If I didn’t turn off the electricity to the room, Manson did, thus meaning he could do it at anytime. I moved the candles under my bed in a smaller box. I set the candle in my ashtray and poked through my stuff, the metallic sheen on the walls amplified the light do I could continue to put things away. I reached into the final box knowing full well what was in it.

I opened it, and pulled out the books setting them on my shelf. I walked back over to my box and pulled out the pictures. Smiling as I went through them. I picked out my favorite one and set it off to the side, taking out a few of the other heirlooms inside. Smiling as I looked at some of the other things inside.

The metal door sounded like it was creaking, scaring me and making me shove things back in the box. Tossing the box under my bed. I looked at the door, and waited for a few minutes when nothing happened I grabbed the box and pulled out the picture and replaced the box in my closet. I grabbed the picture and blew out the candle. I stuffed it into my pillowcase. I pulled it over to my side and clang to it. I willed myself to sleep, and slowly it came.

At about noon, I lurched up from my bed. I whipped my head around at the chuckle.

“What Tim, scared of the dark?” I knew how he worked, it was a trick question, I say yes, he leaves the lights on. I say no, and I’m living by candlelight.

“Just a weird dream.” I said making sure it was indifferent.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I don’t remember much, just . . . ” I licked my lips. “A big mouth.” As lame as it was it convinced him.

“Oh, I was interested what could have you crying, shouting and begging in Swedish. But a big mouth, hm.” He was walking toward me.

“Yeah, I hardly ever remember my dreams.”

“That’s very interesting Tim.” He sounded genial. “Dreams reveal the deepest part of you, and the fact that you can’t even remember them, makes me wonder what you have looming inside. Also, what you’re hiding even from yourself.”

“Eh? I just think I’ve never tried to remember my dreams so now I can’t.” He was standing on the side of my bed, his hand ran through my hair.

“I’ll call for you later today.” He pulled his hand away and turned to leave. When the door closed I flopped back against the bed. With a sigh, I sat back up and stretched. Flinging my feet off the bed. Setting them against the floor, only to feel something bizarre against the carpet I looked down and scattered along my floor were bits of paper. I reached down and picked on up to see the torn remains of a picture.

I grabbed another, and another slowly realizing just what they might be. I hopped off my bed and grabbed my box.

Empty.

I threw it across the room and slowly picked up the pieces to the photographs, This one, this one was in Rome, and this one, this one was when we went out to the carnival, and he hated it. And this one. . .this one was from Siclia, in the hotel from where we started. And this one was from MDFMK, Lucia took it candidly and said later how we looked like lovers.

I gathered the pieces slowly, shaking knowing where every bit was from, knowing what everyone meant. I grabbed the box and slowly put the flakes of my memories inside. I gathered up the rest of them, dumping them into the box. I looked down and burst out in tears, shamefully. My life it felt like had been torn with every one of those images. Everyone of those representing a reason to live, a reason to push on.

I had fucked it up, but I clung to it like an innocent prisoner on death row, hoping to be acquitted. Every shed my bit of humanity, a bit of love, a bit of happiness, and I was ruining them even more by crying on them. I slowly closed the box, forcing myself not to look at them anymore.

How had he known? How had he figured it out, I knew how I wasn’t stupid. But why this, Sascha was an innocent bystander to all this. I hadn’t spoken to him in years, preferring to leave dumb messages to show him I was still listening. Lucia and I used to talk but now in here I wouldn’t pick up. I couldn’t Manson might go out and kill her. And again I’d be responsible for ruining Sascha’s life, and hurting Lucia. I refused to do that again.

I put the box back into my closet hoping when I looked in again they’d be intact. Hoping that everything would be better. I crawled back into bed, clutching my pillow, shamelessly crying into it. Hoping sleep would swallow me whole and I’d wake up in Seattle.

“Tim.” I turned around quickly “You’re awake, good.”

“Please, go away.”

“What did you say to me?”

“Please just this once let me be my own abuse.”

“I don’t abuse you.”

“Fine, let me make myself miserable.”

“This is how you treat me? Freed you from that, it was dragging you down.”

“No, it wasn’t. It was keeping me alive. You got rid of it because it was independence. You got rid of it because it was a threat to you. It was in your way of control.”

“Tim, you’re stepping out of line.”

“I’m walking the line. This would be stepping over it. You are nothing more then some sad little boy, with some god-complex that can’t stand not having control over himself. So he exerts control over others so that way he feels more in control.

“As Maynard would say, you are trying to fill up the void in your lower chakras with anything, and the hole just keeps getting bigger and it will swallow you whole. You are just trying to stop it from happening, but it will.”

He grabbed my hair again. I was surprised he let me finish my little rant. He drug me off my bed and pulled me down the hall back to the room.

I wasn’t scared, I wasn’t happy, I wasn’t anything. I was just there. I was just being drug behind him. Not caring what limb hit what. I had given up. But not in the way he wanted me to give up. He threw open the door.

“You need to learn how to understand symbolism.” I was tossed on the floor and found myself unwilling to break my fall, my nose colliding with the tile, blood exploding along the white tile.

“You need to understand what I’m doing for you.” He rolled me over slamming the back of my head against the tile.

“You have so much to understand.” He punched me down again the tile or my skull cracking echoed in my ears.

His fists clutching onto my shirt tearing it off of me. I found the ability to defend myself was lost. I didn’t care, he could kill me and really it would only be release. He wrenched my pants from my hips.

“Are you starting to get the picture?” I laughed.

“Oh yes, Mr. I’m-oh-so-shocking-Warner. You’re going to fuck me after you abuse me some more.” He snarled and picked me up by my hair and tossing me against the wall. My jaw collided with it. I slid down slowly. He came behind me quickly, slamming me against the wall again.

“You ungrateful bastard!” The tiles met my skull again. I felt a little warm wet trickle slide down my cheek. He stopped for a moment and I knew he was taking off his pants. As the thought crossed my mind, he jammed himself inside. Making me slam harder into the wall. The trickle was faster now. I was slightly dizzy.

He grunted against my ear, his breath warming my neck. I felt sick. He shoved into me again. Smearing blood along the white tile walls. He grabbed my arms forcing it behind my back twisting it back. I yelped softly at the pain.

“This is how you like it right? Hard right? Isn’t this what Sascha gave you? And then you went and fucked him over. I’m only returning the favor, fucking you over, so next time he sees you he can laugh at you. Who would ever want a worthless, ungrateful, little cunt like you back?” I was crying silently as he talked. His other hand came up and pulled back in my hair.

I pushed his mouth against mine. Absinthe, blood, and the sickly smell of his sweat and cologne lingered in my mouth as he pulled away. He smirked at me. Then used the force to shove my face against the tile.

“Such a sad waste of such a pretty boy. You could have been great but . . . ” He let out a little moan. “You had to be an idiot. Why throw all of this away?” He wrenched my arm back, making me whine out in pain his cock burying itself deeper into me.

“Although, you are the prettiest like this.” He pushed my head to the other side of the wall. Smearing more blood along it. “Broken, used, abused. Such a fitting title. I have to make every pet live up to their title.”

He slammed his body against mine, my cheek crunching against the porcelain. He bucked deeper then twisted my arm back again, making me howl.

“So beautiful crying out for me” his nails tore down my sides. I realized then that he was tensing, his arm was loosening his grip.

With a final gut-turning thrust he came. Stepping back quickly, I lost my balance and fell to the floor. He reached down and flipped me over. He leaned down and kissed me again. I shivered, my vision red from the blood clinging to my eyelashes.

He pulled away. Then slammed his boot against my ribs. My eyes grew wide as breath was lost to me. His foot rolled me over and hit the small off my back as well. I would have screamed if I could. His foot turned me over again.

“Tim.” He knelled down, his hand grabbed my sore jaw. I would have cried out, but the sound got lost somewhere in me. He forced my mouth open, I awaited him to fuck it.

“Too bad.” He leaned forward, instead of his lips meeting mine, he spit into my mouth. “Worthless cunt.” He wrenched his hand to the side. A crack was all I heard before darkness faded in.

I awoke in my bed, sheets clinging to the blood dried in blotches over my skin. I yanked the sheets away, the sheets taking the blood and small patches of skin with them. I made myself stand go to the bathroom. I quickly cleaned off the blood. I had to look nice.

It was mechanical, I knew what I was going to do. I walked back to my room and opened up my chest. All the way from Sweden with that hidden compartment. I knew what was in there. I pulled out all the clothes and popped open the false bottom. I dug around, I pulled out the .09 millimeter, looking around for bullets.

Dammit. Dammit all to hell. I didn’t have any.

I guess I can’t go the fool-proof way.

I dug around some more pulling out my switchblade. I hate suicide. But this could have been perfect. This could have been right. This could have been a new start. This could have been a lot of things. But it wasn’t anyone of them.

I turned on my computer. Picking a song for the moment. I closed my eyes and bit my lip. Take a deep breath and you can be back in Seattle, in warm arms. You can be back with love, this time you won’t fuck up this time it will be perfect. This time, maybe this time. . .

I pressed it against my arm, dragging it along the light blue line I could see slightly though my skin. I pulled it back and switched hands. There was a weird noise in the room, I knew it. But from where.

It was my phone.

I walked over to it and looked at the number. I picked it up.

“Hello Lucia.”

“Tim. How are you?”

“Oh me, just dead. I have to go, important matters to attend to. You know. I got some mood music and a nice cigarette waiting. Tell Sascha I send him my love, and I love you. Good luck.”

I hung up and threw my phone on the floor, and jammed the knife into my other wrist. I was laughing. I couldn’t even begin to tell you the release. Not the suicide but the maniacal laughing that came out of my mouth.

I chucked the knife against the wall. Even though they weren’t as deep as I would have liked loss of blood would get me eventually. I grabbed a cigarette and with much difficulty lit it. But I enjoyed each drag. More than I had any other. This was the aftercare to the best sex I had ever had.

I felt myself getting tired. I quickly finished my cigarette and stubbed out the but and leaned against my bed grabbing my pillow and pulling out the final memory from my pillow case.

“Sascha.”

“Huh?” He turned around and was quickly blinded by the flash of the camera.

“What the fuck Tim?!” He glared at me.

“It’s you in your natural habitat.” I stuck out my tongue.

I lit another cigarette, and continued to look at the picture, the dumb look on his face. Cigarette half out of his mouth, an eyebrow raised and all that adoration in his eyes made me melt. I shook a bit, I was exhausted. I wanted to sleep. I looked back down into those blue eyes as I stubbed out my second finished cigarette.

Darkness slowly inched over my eyes. As I imagined his blue eyes. Every look, every emotion that passed through them. I smiled again. ‘Sascha.’ I thought slowly. ‘I’m so sorry.’ I was crying with a small smile on my face. ‘I never wanted to hurt you.’

I held the picture close to me, sweet freedom. Absolution. This time I would make the right decisions this time I would be different. I smiled a bit. The song and the soft words from someone in my ear were my lullabies. One final thought was all I had:

‘I love you.’
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