Chapter One: Marilyn Manson

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(All the he's and he in the first part are intentional)

You know what sucked the most in his life? It was the fact that he was called a pedophile at least every other day. He didn't even like kids, let alone want to touch them.

Maybe it was because of what he wore. With the long black trench coat and the heavy hood that shadowed his face so you couldn't see it and the bulky combat boots that made a stomp-like noise every time his foot hit the ground. Everything that touched his body was black.

Maybe a red or gray color or sometimes orange or purple if it was on a band shirt that he liked. Other then that, all black. To say that it weirded people out around him was an understatement and on the rare moments when he walked outside of his house, it was not uncommon to see parents pull there children closer to them in fear that he would take them.

Honestly, the only reason he would take the children is to stab them in the mouth because they are annoying. No remorse necessary.

But considering the type of person he was. He did go to school every day. And then went straight home without a single stop. Except for an occasional visit to the gas station to get a new pack of cigarettes.

He did do his work and he did study. But no one would believe him. To everyone around him, he was some juvenile delinquent that most likely held kids and an absurd collection of antique knives and swords in his basement.

The sword part was correct. He did have a lot of knives and swords, but they were on his bedroom wall.

He was pretty secretive and weird. Everyday at school, he wore tons of makeup underneath that hood. But not the normal eyeshadow and lipstick shit. No, full blown face paint. He made himself look like a badass skeleton and nobody could even see it. Was that something to brag about...? He only shrugged, he didn't care.

"Gerard - what are you thinking about? You're spaced out again," he looked up to see his mom staring down at him with what he thought was concern. It was always concern.

Gerard rolled his eyes and looked up at his mom. "How much times do I have to tell you to call me Marilyn?"

"Gerard," Donna sighed, "You can't just change your name to some satanic rockstar's name."

"Can and did." Gerard, or should you say Marilyn said, "And besides, I didn't technically change it - all the fucktards in my school did. Also Marilyn Manson isn't his real name. He changed it; if anything, I changed my name to a serial killer's."

Because you know, who doesn't know who Charles Manson is... or Marilyn Monroe. Donna only widened her eyes in fear that her son was actually gonna become a serial killer one day.

She should be worried.

"Gerard - please."

He glared at his mother, "stop it, call me Marilyn."

"Fine, Marilyn. What's wrong? Are you okay?" She asked, her hand coming out and resting on her son's white makeup covered forehead, "You're not running a cold..."

"I space out all the time, now, can I go to my room - I finished studying?" He asked.

"Yeah," Donna sighed. "Go ahead."

-

"Do I look pretty now?"

Frank looked back at his new friend who was sitting on the toilet lid with a thoughtful expression as he looked at Frank's face.

"Yeah," Ray grinned, "You look fucking sick, man."

Frank had just moved from Newark about a week and a half ago. School was out for winter break and students wouldn't have to go back until in a few days. So here, he met Ray Toro at the record store downtown. And they've been friends for an approximate five days.

"Thanks, fucking sick is what I was going for," Frank smirked and took some black makeup and smeared a little bit more on his nose. "There."

"Do you plan on going back to school looking like this? Like part devil part angel thing going on?"

Frank liked to wear white clothing. Everything he wore was white so therefore it stained easily. But he didn't care. Frank wore white and painted his face white and black and that's his look.

"Yeah man, it's cool. I've looked like this since - hm...since when?" Frank interrupted himself and thought for a minute. "The sixth grade. 12 years old dude."

Ray chuckled, "You remind me of someone who I go to school with."

"Really?" Frank asked, interested in who he reminded Ray of.

"Yeah," Ray nodded. "I used to be friends with him until one day he came to school way more messed up then he was the day before - like, he was perfectly fine one day and then the next, he became this big burning ball of anger and darkness and I swear he was gonna kill me with that glare and he may or may not have had a gun in his pocket. But he was secretive so no one would have ever found out -"

"Dude - who is he?" Frank asked, stopping his friend from rambling much longer.

"He goes by the name Marilyn. Like Marilyn Manson - you know what I'm talking about?"

Frank nodded, "Is that actually his name?"

Ray shrugged, "I'm not entirely sure - he's gone by that name since the seventh grade when his whole persona just changed."

"Oh, Manson is cool though," Frank chuckled.

"The singer or the serial killer?"

Frank just raised an eyebrow at Ray before leaving the room without another word. Which left Ray kind of scared for his life as he chased the boy into the next room.

"Anyway, do wear this makeup every day?" Ray asked.

"Yup, why?"

"Oh my God, Marilyn does the same thing. He wears white and black makeup and black clothing - fuck, you two are the same person. Are you sure you don't know him?"

Frank shrugged, "If that is his real name. Then no, I do not."

"It's just," Ray stopped, "If you guys have never met before then how are you two so alike?"

That made Frank stop in the middle of pulling on his pristine white jacket and look at Ray. "How alike are we?"

"Well...he has white hair, you have black. He wears black and you wear white and then you both wear this crazy as fuck makeup - and isn't it kind of coincidental that at around the same time you two start doing this? He's a little older then you - around my age and started in the seventh grade and you were in sixth. Which means at about the same time since you're in the grade below me and him...isn't that crazy?"

Frank opened his mouth to say something then closed it. Only going with a quiet, "Yeah, that's a weird..."

My new story, does it seem interesting? I thought it would be, but that's only in my opinion...how are your thoughts on it?"

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