The Long Hard Road Out of Hell

[Manson at this current time in the story]


[Sarah at this current point in the story]

The funny thing about the music industry is that they only want you to make them money. You’re not an artist you’re merely a product. If you make money then every other record company will find a band that sounds exactly like your music, and promote them to make a profit out of your sound. If you don’t make money, then you slowly burn out into nothing as if you never were.
I could tell you that the moment I stepped into that club later that night, I could tell I was in the right place. There was a loud stench of incense and cigarettes. Everyone in the club looked like Manson clones. Long black dyed hair, heavily done eyeliner and more tattoos then skin. The females either were gothic and fat or skinny and sluttish. Behind the crowd of clichés I could see Shane on stage fooling with his stage equipment.
I forced my way through the audience to the dividers of the stage and hollered at him. Shane didn’t turn around he was obviously intoxicated in some way. A bodyguard stood between the stage and the divider. I waved my arms for his attention; he noticed me and came waddling my way. In a heavy southern accent he asked me ‘what?’ in the most un-interested tone he could muster. I realized he wasn’t going to be of any help. So at this point I just gave up and waited for the show to begin perhaps Manson would see me.
Suddenly all the lights in the club went down, and a dim blue light illuminated the stage. A familiar pale man sauntered on stage into the blue glow. Manson wearing nothing but tight black leather pants and boots with Spice girl sized heels. Behind him was Star tied up to a cross wearing only a pair of black underwear, and black tape crossing out the nipples of her breasts.
I had no idea what their music was going to sound like. For half an hour I stood at the front of the crowd, watching Manson sing and scream out erotic lyrics. Honestly I didn’t enjoy the music but there was a passion in his stage performance that had me entranced.
But I wasn’t here to criticize a band I was here to get my things and be on my way to California. Finally the final song was ending, and Manson had doused himself in a bottle of water that he was now head banging all over the crowd. Manson said a goodbye to the crowd and exited the stage. I pushed myself through the crowd once more to the right side of the stage where I met up with the same bodyguard again.
“Excuse me!” I shouted.
The bodyguard smirked “Look darlin if you think your getting back there then you’ve lost your mind!”
Trying to push past him, his huge arm swung in front of me held me back, “You don’t understand!” I exclaimed.
“Ma’am I’m sorry but if you persist I’m going to have to have you escorted out of the club. Rules are Rules.”
Quickly I dove down underneath his arm and made a run for it. It took him a moment to realize what had happened but soon as he did that bodyguard was chasing me down a hallway backstage. Techies were slamming themselves against the wall as we ran through.
The bodyguard was wheezing “S….Sa-Stop that woman!”. He was running out of breath quickly and was pulling his pants up as he attempted to catch up. The funny thing about this is that I was wearing high heels.
There was a door open at the end of the hall that led to the back parking lot of the club, where most likely the bands cars were parked. I saw that as my getaway. There was no need for Manson if I could just grab my things from their van and leave! The Guard had chased me until I ran through the door and rushed to slam it on his face. His face bounced off the metal door as if it was made of rubber. Thank god that it caused him to stop and give up chasing me.
I jogged through the square parking lot in search for the van with derogatory words spray painted on it. There it was parked along the fence next to a dumpster. I tried opening the side door but the whole van was locked up.
“Missy!”
I didn’t turn around.
“Sarah!”
I turned around, and came face to face with Manson. We stared at each other for a long period of time without saying anything to each other. His face was clean and not covered in make-up like it was on stage. His long black hair was wet and he was out of his stage clothing, and into a pair of black tight jeans and an old faded KISS shirt. He was carrying stage equipment,
His eyes grew soft and shiny “so it really is you.” he said.
I stared up at him astonished. “How do you know my real name?” I asked.
He did not answer me he merely walked over and unlocked the trailer of the van. It’s like he was trying to pretend he couldn’t see me because no matter which way I walked he wouldn’t look at me.
“Hey!” I said agitated “How do you know my name!” Unknowingly my fists balled up, and I was digging my finger nails into the palms of my hands..
Manson scrunched his mouth up in irritation “I thought you looked familiar when we picked you up, but I was hoping you weren’t whom I thought you were.” He told me as he pulled out my suitcase and tote bag from the van. He dropped them carelessly on the ground.
“What are you talking about?” I said my eyebrows knitting together.
His head snapped up to look at me “You don’t even remember who I am?” There was another moment of silence between us as I tried hard to remember what he was going on about.
Manson’s expression turned into a psychotic one. A small smile, and then his smile turned into hysterical laughter that echoed throughout the quiet parking lot.
“Of coarse you wouldn’t fucking remember me! The problem is I can’t forget you even if I tried. “He yelled. “You ruined my life! ”
The sound of the clubs back door opening up in the background was all I could focus on. I stood baffled and absolutely had no idea what the hell he was talking about.
Manson stepped inside the van as the rest of the members of the band; Megan and Star were walking up. “What’s going on out here?” Shane giggled in his intoxicated state, still.
“Just get in the car,” Manson told them. The others listened put the stage equipment they had been carrying into the trailer. Then they all hopped back into the van.
He looked at me one more time. and I shook my head “I’m sorry…… I still don’t remember.”
“My real name..is Brian Warner,” He said and suddenly everything about him was familiar to me. Those full lips, his sullen brown eyes…that raspy voice. The van began to drive off and I was left alone with the memories.
“Oh god,” I whispered. How could I have forgotten?