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"John, is that you?" The question rang out as John stepped into the hallway connected to the stage.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead as he turned around, the all-too familiar man approaching him.
"Marilyn! It's been too long, hasn't it?" John greeted, feigning the best smile possible.
"Yes, it has. What've you been up to since joining the zombies?" John was unsure as to why he was trying to be so nice to Brian. But he was even more unsure of is why Brian was being so nice to him. They were never discreet about their dislike of each other, so why act so sweet now?
"Nothing much, really. The work never ends." He light-heartedly joked.
"Well, since we're both here and I don't go on for a while, why don't you come visit my dressing room? We can catch up there."
John looked over to the band, sort of hoping Rob would make an excuse, but no. Rob gave Brian a nod of allowance.
John bit his tongue as he followed him.It was a complicated feeling. Sure, their partnership didn't end on the best of terms, with John quitting after Brian became a dick toward him and all, but they also had great times together and made even greater music together.
As John sat down in a chair in front of the vanity mirror, only one question was on his mind.
"So, why are you being so nice all of a sudden?" Since they were alone, he thought it'd be a good time to ask.
"John, do you remember who gave you that name? John 5?" Brian asked in an unreadable tone, standing by the door and looking at the wall to the left side of the room.
"Um, what do you mean? You did." His voice was uneasy. He kneaded his thighs over his jeans.
"Yeah. I did. So how come you still use the name I gave you, but you never reach out? I let you quit, and you just pretend you were never my guitarist?"
"You let me quit?" John gave him a look of astonishment. "If you wanted me to stick around so bad, you shouldn't have been a prick."
Brian ignored him, continuing on with his tangent. "You still use the name I gave you, but you want to move on and act like I don't exist? How come you never reach out?"
John stood from his seat, appalled he would even ask.
"You called me a faggot, Brian,' he stepped toward the door. "I'll be going now."
Brian shoved John to the ground, the blonde hitting his back against the chair as he hit the ground. "Don't get up. And don't act so offended. that I called you a faggot. I tell it how it is."
John winced in pain. "You know what, that's why I never talk to you. Look at how you act." He bit back.
"I'm the one who should be angry here, not you. I let you, a homo, into my band."
Brian pressed his black boot against John, the blonde still sitting on the carpet against the chair.
"Why don't you show me your appreciation for letting you in? For giving you your identity."
John turned his face away, scrunching up his nose.
"What kind of power trip are you on, Brian?" He muttered.
The dark-haired male lifted his foot, kicking him in the face. John gasped, blood gushing from his nose and down to his lips. He went quiet.
This lunatic was for real.
"You don't get to come here sporting my name with Rob Zombie like I never owned you. Show me some fuckin' appreciation." He growled, pressing his shoe against John's lips, so he didn't have much of a choice now.
John gulped thickly. Maybe if he just went along with it, Brian would go easy on him and leave him alone. Then, he'd never have to deal with him again. He reluctantly stuck his tongue out, sliding the slick tip of it against the front of Brian's boot. He looked up at Brian's face. He prayed for a look of satisfaction, so he didn't have to do more than this, but he was met with a look of annoyance.
"You're gonna have to do a lot more than that. You wouldn't have been up on that stage today if not for me. You were probably sohot and bothered up there, weren't you?" He teased.
John wanted to lean back, but he was pinned between Brian's foot and the legs of the chair. The back of his head hurt, metal bars digging into it like two ice sickles. He licked his lips, the taste of fresh blood in his mouth. His nose burned, with a numbing kind of tingling. He stuck his tongue back out, dragging it along the sole of Brian's sole.
He retched. It tasted like piss and dirt.
Brian smushed the shoe into John's lips, forcing his head to tilt back.
"Who said you could stop? I surely didn't" He growled.
John prepared himself to open his mouth again, but this time Brian shoved himself into his mouth, the leather tip of his boot failing to move around the tiny space. John groaned in discomfort, placing a hand on the midsection of the man's shoe for support. When he pulled his foot out, John gasped as he caught his breath. Brian tapped his spit covered shoe against the younger man's cheek. John took the hint to continue and kept pushing, licking mindlessly all over. If he just did as he was told he'd get to leave sooner. John thought and thought about anything to get his mind off the position he was in, the taste of the position he was in.Brian stepped away for a moment.
"I bet you dream of doing that to Rob all day, don't ya," he sneered.
John steadied himself as he stood up, dazed. "No, I don't. I'm not gay, Brian, never have been."
"What do you do, then, to get all these bands to let you in? It can't possibly be your playing. You must whore yourself out."
Before he could argue, Brian swung a kick into his stomach, knocking him down to the ground. But he didn't stop there. He slammed John into the wall, back onto the floor, and back into the wall again. He tried to stay composed, to not let Brian get the best of him, but he couldn't take it. He was scared. Why hadn't anyone come in to see what was going on? Surely, they could hear it, right? John's bottom lip burst with a hard stinging pain.
"Stop it," he choked, holding a hand out to protect himself as the man watched his handiwork.
The blood from John's busted nose dried all the way down to his chin, the bump forming on his cheek that will, surely, turn into the nastiest bruise soon after.
"You're telling me to stop after all this disrespect you've been giving me? How many men have you been with since you ditched the band?"
"I haven't slept with any men ever, Brian! Literally nobody!" He was telling the truth, but Brian couldn't believe it. Or maybe he knew it was true, just didn't care. Didn't want to ruin the game.
"Do you think you're too good for me? Is that it? You sleep with all these men, collecting diseases like trophies, but you ignore me? Where are your standards?" He poked at John's ribs with his shoe.
John laid there for a moment. He just wanted to leave. But did he want to lie about being gay to do that? He'd be humiliated either way. He whimpered as he felt Brian touch him, pulling his pants to his ankles.
"I'm gonna teach you not to fuck with me. I gave you everything and you pretend that I don't exist. You just left once you had all you needed from me. Well now you'll know what it's like to be used and forgotten."It hurt everywhere. He began to panic as Brian approached the vanity, grabbing a pair of scissors. He thought he was going to cut his dick off.
Brian stared at himself, posing in the mirror, the scissors playing as a sick prop. He looked toward the floor in the reflection, staring at the man in the back of the room, watching John watch him. He grinned.
"You say you're not gay, but you sure do love watching me."
He walked back to the spot where he left him. John's breathing was heavy, and he licked at the cut on his lip.
"Don't you have your set coming up? Just leave me be, you're wasting your energy." John pleaded.
Brian checked the clock on the wall, ticking away while the clock in John's mind was paused, forever frozen.
"I don't go on for another hour.
Without another word, he took the pair of scissors and snipped off a huge chunk of John's hair, right from the front of his head. John choked out a sob.Everyone was going to know now that he had been beaten by Marilyn Manson. The moment he'd leave the room, everyone would see his beat-up face, his maimed hair. John reached his foot up, kicking Brian in the face as he stood above him.
"Fuck you!" he exclaimed.
Brian stumbled back, gripping the lock of blonde hair in his hand before staring back down at John.
"What a defiant one you are," he chuckled. He leaned down, licking the dried blood on the man's face.
"There's seriously something wrong with you." His voice was exhausted. He was so terrified. John sounded tired, but his mind was racing.
Nobody else was there. Nobody could bear witness to this. Nobody could hear them, or maybe they could and just didn't care. John cursed himself. Cursed his whole life. If he hadn't allowed himself around such deranged people, this wouldn't have happened. He reminisced about a time when he didn't know Marilyn Manson. All those years of listening to the band and dreaming of a chance only led to this.
John began to cry. He only had himself to blame for this.
Fuck his greed.
Fuck his need to get to the top.
Fuck his will.
Fuck his dream.
Fuck him for doing anything to get famous.
Fuck his lack of morals.Brian dragged John to the sofa sitting to the right of the door of the dressing room, forcing him to lay on his stomach. Brian practically ripped his underwear off. "You're so weak, John. Always have been. Quitting the band over one little word. Faggot. You say you don't like men, but you care an awful lot about that word for a straight man. Don't cry now, the worst is yet to come."
John gasped at the feeling of cold, sharp metal coming into contact with his asshole, the tip pressing straight against his entrance. His eyes widened. Brian wasn't going to castratehim. He was going to cut him up from the inside.John howled and cried as Brian pulled the pair of scissors back before ramming them inside of his hole. John could feel all the hellish pain as Brian pushed the blades deep and deeper until he could feel Brian's fingers inside him. He opened and closed the blades, cutting deep into the walls of John's ass.
"You've fucked me over for years. Fucked this band over. You fuck everything you see, huh, John?"
He felt all the blood pooling inside him, moving up and down with every push and pull. He couldn't even answer to Brian anymore, the pain too unbearable to even process. He could feel the blade in his back, his spine releasing pulsating pains all over. Whether it was really in his back or not, he had no clue. His brain turned to jelly as he tried to find something, anything, to bring him back to peace.
The blade twisted and turned inside John, a pitiful, unconsenting accessory to Brian's sick, horrific psychopathy.The scissors made a disgusting, nightmarish sound as they made their way out of him, cover in slimy blood, forever changed by the grotesque experience they had just unwillingly partaken in, a tragic testament to the depraved mind of Brian. The man licked the blades clean, moaning in satisfaction at the taste of virgin blood.
John was scared to move. Scared to feel the pain all over again if he were to sit up. Would the pain ever go away? Would every single cut and laceration fade? Would his hole sew itself back together?
"How does it feel to lose your virginity to a pair of scissors?" Brian laughed, pulling John back out of his train of thought.
He was being robbed of everything. He couldn't even think on his own time anymore. This was worse than any hell the Bible could warn you about.
"What did you just say?" John interrogated in the angriest voice he could muster in his position.
"How does it feel to lose your ass virginity to metal?" John was so pissed, but he was even more pissed at the fact that he couldn't do anything to show how pissed he was. "You're telling me you did all that knowing I'm not gay," he sobbed into himself. "What was it all for then?" John shouted.
"Payback is a huge bitch."Brian climbed on top of John on the sofa, pressing his body against his back, the blonde screaming in pain as he felt all the damage inside of him throbbing at once. Brian took the scissors, cutting another chunk out of John's hair from the back of his head, the red from the scissors dirtying the spotless hair on his head. Without a moment to think, he forced the lock of hair into the younger male's mouth.
John could taste the dirty, pained blood on his tongue from when the tainted blades touched his hair. He came to a horrible realization when he heard Brian's fly unzip behind him. He opened his mouth to beg Brian to stop when he bit back down on the hair as Brian pushed himself inside of John's already desecrated body. Every time he moved, John could feel the violations inside him burn a thousand times over.He was safe nowhere; John was at war in reality and in his mind. His thoughts fought each other. He wanted someone to walk in so badly. To stop the torture. But, if someone saw, he'd be humiliated. They'd see how small and weak he is, being violated in such way. His brain began to play tricks on him, telling him he really wanted this.
But what if he really did want it? If he didn't want it, why didn't he fight harder to make Brian stop? But what kind of depraved human would want this? He couldn't tell what was real. The man on top of him was indirectly raping his mind. Did Brian know about it? Was this part of his sick plan? John hated himself. If he had just stuck to his gut, been a man and told Brian he didn't want to talk to him, he wouldn't be here.
His thoughts were, once again, interrupted when he felt Brian cum, his bodily fluids mixing with John's. The heat of his seed burned the gashes inside him.
Red and white make pink.Brian pulled out, granting John momentary freedom from the torture. He looked at the helpless man, taking in his damage.
"What would Zombie say if he saw you like this?"
No response.
Brian hardened back up as he imagined all the possibilities of what could transpire after this. He walked to the other end of the couch, now face to face with John. John couldn't recognize the man he saw.
Brian took the hair out of John's mouth, letting it fall to the seat of the sofa cushion beneath his head. He grabbed John, forcing him to go down on him, using his head as his own fuck toy.
John could taste his blood on Brian's cock, dirtied by the walls of his ass.
"Don't think of biting." Brian warned, once he remembered John still had free will. It was up to John if he really wanted to use it.
John obeyed, keeping his vengeful thoughts to himself, reminding himself that it could end soon if he just behaved.
His chances of revenge melted away when Brian came once again, this time in his throat.
Red and white make pink.Metal and salt were all John could taste.
Brian slid his index and middle fingers down his victim's throat to make him swallow the filth in his mouth.
John stayed still, a shell of the man he once was.Brian checked the clock. The most painful hour of John's life had finally come to an end.
He took out his phone, taking pictures of the suffering he had imposed on John. He wasn't shy about getting up close shots of his face either, even photographing the inside of John's mouth, hanging open in exhaustion.
Brian zipped himself back up. His face met the blonde's face one last time, a devilish grin on his face as he watched the pain in his half-lidded eyes.
Right on que, a knock on the door brought Brian to his feet. Ginger Fish opened the door.
"Hey, it's time to get on stage," he alerted Brian.
John looked up to see Ginger, their eyes locking as Ginger gave a knowing look before the door closed, leaving John all alone in the room.John hated himself. He hated how he felt, what he thought. As the blood ran from his backside, he struggled to remember what had happened before. What did he want? He knew it wasn't going to end well if he followed Brian, but he did it anyway.Why did he go with him?