Immaculate Misconceptions

"October 17th, 1986. Christopher Cerulli was born and as he grew older... a dark demon began to take control of him. Poisoning his mind, body, and heart. Christopher Cerulli is dying... Christopher Cerulli will soon be nothing but a shadow in the being that refers to itself as 'Chris Motionless'. Chris Motionless has many allies... Many friends whom he's risen with him from the underworld to create said group: Motionless in White. Although we may not have been able to destroy those demons, the destruction of their leader may weaken them and we may rid this world of their terrible influence.
Through lyrics they have spoke blasphemy to YOUR children and MINE. They have covered our children in filth and have left them dirty and crawling on their knees to please this... this disgrace. This abomination and mockery of our Lord. He has sat high on thrones in the form of stages where his followers all stand below him in satanic worship. He is not a God therefore as he looks down on God's children he does nothing but spread damnation to all. Our children are slipping from our fingers, my brothers. We can no longer idly stand by. Their lyrics are poison polluting the thoughts of our children! What atrocities! God will not stand for this! We will not stand for this!
I will not sit back and watch our children suffer!" The voice would crack but quickly regain it's strength,

"Look at how far we've come my brothers! Look at how we've broken this demon swine's back! Look at how we broken him! Under God's will! Under God's hand! He has blessed us! Praise Him!"
"Praise Him!"
"Look at how he has blessed us! Praise Him!"
"Praise Him!"
"God has chosen us as his helpers! And as we enter the kingdoms of Heaven we shall be greeted by tables of feasts in celebration! For we have rid the world of such evil! We will have psalms dedicated to us and hymns sung about our dead. Mothers will cry tears of joy when their children return to them and repent of their sins. Their children will no longer chant praises to their demonic leader and will fall into the loving arms of Jesus Christ. This is the first steps my friends, my brothers! The land of God will be cleansed from these Devil worshiping faggots,”

Chris twitched at the word, the chains weighing him down rattling slightly, but he kept his head bowed. The grips on his upper arms tightened.

“No more will children run around dressed in black or slit the name of bands into their precious skin. No longer will tattoos taint the gifts of God nor needles pierce the skin. Those who mourn will surely submit themselves to eternal damnation. For some we cannot save them! For some it is too late! But that is only some! Soon, we save many.”

Chris yanked himself to the side in attempt to move away from the crazed man. His head was pounding and the fresh gashes on his back burned and felt warm as they dripped with blood which stained the floor with dark puddles. His muscles ached, his throat was dry, the cross on his neck throbbed, and his breathing was hard and heavy. He was bruised, a broken man. A sad sight.
Unrecognizable.
He had cried... Yes. He had cried. Left alone at night after a beating he had came to terms with himself.

No one was coming. No one.

He couldn't save them. He couldn't save anyone.

He had become useless and he was cracking with each new treatment.

His identity has been ripped from him. Burned from him.

He was going to die here and there was so much more he had wanted to do. He hasn't even been able to see him mother... his father... his grandparents. What of his friends? My god, his fans. What did they think? He was ashamed of himself. He has let down everyone and he was a disgrace. Not in the way these men portrayed him, but in the way he has set for himself. He had given in... He couldn't fight anymore. He wasn't strong enough... Not physically at least. As if his mental strength made a difference.

If he could... Chris would want to hug everyone of his fans... Every single fucking one. He would want to say goodbye to everyone... Especially his fans. He’d want to tell them how he had to go through with this... for them. If they cried, he’d wipe their tears away and hold them until they understood. Understood that he would sacrifice himself for them. All for them. Because they deserved the world and more. These simple people did not understand them... They never would. And if this is what it took to keep them safe, then so be it.Be strong my Creatures... Be strong. Because even when I’m gone I’ll forever be with you. Always. Living in your memory and if you EVER need me... just stick those headphones in and listen. Listen to me sing. Listen to me sing to You.
Because this was all for you.

Chris lifted his head pathetically to gaze at the crowd... His eyes swollen, bruised, and empty. These would be the last people he’d see... These... low life parasites. The voice continuing on with his so called speech was just a muffled noise to him. He couldn't quite register what he was saying anymore... Nor did he want to. His vision would sometimes unfocus, creating multiples of the crowd watching him.
Blood loss.
Chris would now keep a steady gave up to the roof where a giant hole allowed the sun’s rays to illuminate where he was knelt.
The men that held his arms stared straight forward... and suddenly he could understand what the man was starting to say just as Charlie shuffled forward, a purple pillow in his hands. Upon the pillow laid a crown.
A silver crown made of thick steel thorns twisted and knotted within each other in a deadly royal mockery.
Charlie kept his eyes down-casted as the crown was carefully lifted from the pillow,

“You wish to be worshiped as a God... as a Savior,” his words dripped his venom as he eyed Chris viciously. “You want to sit on thrones and have innocence bow to you. You want to mock a God? You mock the role of Jesus Christ, the son and the only one who can truly save? So be it,” The crown was lifted high, the sunlight bouncing off the shined metal and sending speckles of twinkling light onto the ground around them. He whispered something before stating firmly, “Now bare the crown like a true King.”
The room shudder at the disturbing nose that emitted into the room as the quick movement smashed the crown down onto Chris’ head and the force was only removed when it rested above his brow. Agonizing screams filled the room as the crown firmly stuck into the bone and flesh. Chris’ back was arched and he twisted as his vision flashes red and he felt as if he could feel his pulse behind his eyes. He wanted to claw at the crown as blood dripped from his skull and into his eyes. He let out another pained and frustrated scream as his chest heaved and he pulled against the men holding him.
Charlie couldn’t watch.
Chris’ back spasmed and his eyes rolled in pain. With nostrils flared he looked up into the sunlight once more before his vision abruptly cut off and the men watched him go into shock.