Evidence

Mansons back...

I heard Omega crying, and I felt his tears fall on me. But, I couldn't see or touch him. I drifted on my own for a while until I awoke back in my own world. I was face down on the pavement and I could sense a crowd had formed around me.

"She's been sleepin' in front of my store for hours now." a man with an accent said. I sat up and stared at the four people looking back at me. There were two women holding shopping bags, a short black man, and an Asian woman staring at me like she recognized me. I scrambled up and groped around for my things. But, they weren't near me. The black man glanced at his shop as if he had just remembered something. He ran in and came back moments later with my bag.

"I took it in so that no one would rip her off," He explained, "she's carrying a shit load of cash." Everyone was silent as I tried to sneak away without them noticing.Something told me that I was screwed if I didn't get away. I stood up and the black man grabbed my arm.

"Why are you sleeping in front of my shop anyway?" the black man asked, "you don't look like any street urchin I've ever met." It's true, I was wearing a designer Vivienne Westwood Victorian style dress, a gift from Manson. 'Well, my best friend's past self summoned me into his dimension full of candy and porcelain dolls with strawberry icecream for blood.' I could have said that , but something told me that that wouldn't quite help my cause. Instead, I just gaped at him like the lunatic I am. There, I admitted it, there's something terribly and horribly wrong with me; I was sleeping on a sidewalk while Manson was on his way to New York. Then, a comercial came on the TV display of the black man's shop, silencing everyone. They turned just as a picture of me came on to the screen. Over the picture, was the big word, "Missing" written. Then, they flashed a photo of Marilyn Manson and Dita Von Teese at the premiere of some movie I didn't see. Then, the picture went back to me.

"I thought I recognized you," One of the women with bags said, "you're the looney girl who lives with Marilyn manson." The other woman pulled out an expensive looking Motorola Razor.

"I'm calling the cops," she said. I tried to loosen the black man's grip, but he only squeezed me tighter. I struggled and reached for my bags like stu , my dachshund does when I hold her back whenever Greta and Eva get to go outside. I even yelped a bit, but not purposely. Well, he had to loosen his grip on me sooner or later. And, a few minutes later he did. I snatched my bag out of his hands and started running just as I heard sirens coming toward us. The sirens followed me down the street. But, then they stopped as I reached a dead end. I was so desperate to get away that I wasn't watching where I was going.

"It's okay," someone yelled behind me,"we've got your guardian with us." It couldn't be Manson.

"Marilyn Manson," He continued,"he misses you dearly. Would you please come back?" Well, I was caught in a dead end and I'd loved to believe him. So, I started walking back. A cop stepped out of the car, and I didn't see Manson in the car. So, I dodged the car and ran back the other way. But, unfortunately I was never that fast and cops went through years of training for this sort of thing. So, I was tackled like the poor idiot who catches the ball during a football game. I tried to wiggle my way out of the cop mound, but they only tazered me about three times until I submitted. They're only doing their job, I thought sarcastically before the third tazer. Damn! After being tazered, and beaten within an inch of my life by four cops twice the size of me, I just gave up and let them handcuff me and throw me in the back of their car. I layed on the seat while they sped off with the sirens going. Usually, someone would be ashamed of being hauled off by the police. I wasn't proud of it, but at that point I didn't really care. I didn't know anyone besides Manson anyway and it's not like he's never been arrested (maybe not in as extreme circumstances). I guess I passed out after the tazoring and dreamed that I was thinking. I woke up in an unfamilier room...a padded room. I was confined to the corner by a straight jacket. And, I didn't want to have to entertain myself by thinking. That would mean I'd have to think about Manson and then my heart would break and I'd go absolutely insane. I sighed and tried to go back to sleep. But, it's hard to sleep in a straight white vest, in case you aren't familier with "The Ballad of Dwight Fry" by Alice Cooper.

"Hmmmm....never been in a padded room before," I said to myself,"not like I ever wanted to, either." I continued,"I really miss Manson. Why couldn't he have taken me with him? Oh yeah, Dita talked him out of it. I bet he's with Lily Cole now." I felt a lump in my throat. Why the fuck did I have to say that? And, when had I picked up cussing? I guess, it's from all the time I've spent with Manson. I looked around again and spotted another life form. Wonderful, Mental hospital staff...nothing more boring than that. I sighed again and let the guy guide me out of the padded room. We turned a corner, and he didn't look at or speak to me until we went into a room.

"Someone's here to see you," He mumbled. He set me on a bed which wasn't mine, then left. I still had the straight jacket on. What could be more dangerous than a sixteen year old girl?

Sitting across from me on a stiff regulation Psychward chair, was Dita, public enemy number one. Or was it private? I don't know, I just didn't like her. I hated her. She looked like she wasn't happy with me. She looked furious in fact. Good. We sat in silence for a while. She stared at me while I stared at her. And, neither of us would roll over, so this went on until Dita finally gave up on the dominance thing.

"Why?" She asked me angrily. I didn't reply, "I called the cops,the FBI, the dog catchers!" The dog catchers, wow I'm insulted.

"I talked Brian last night about what your punishment will be and we have both agreed that a good long stay here would knock some sense into you!"

"Where exactly is here?" I asked.

"Seapine," she said quickly. That didn't explain anything, so I just assumed.

"You're leaving me at a Psychward!" I exclaimed.

"This isn't a psychward," she said hotly, "it's a mental institution and rehab center."

"Okay, what's the difference?" I asked.

"A lot, " she spat, "I wouldn't leave you at a Psychward like your parents did and like that couple who kidnapped you did. Brian and I did a lot of research on this place while you were gone, supposing we found you. And, we had a lot of time on our hands while we sat and waited for information on you. Brian even flew back late last night right after I called him at midnight when I found you missing."

"Manson's back?" I asked, surprised,"is he here?"

"No, Leonore," she said, "he's too mad right now to speak to you."

"But, I only ran away so that I could go to LAX and fly to New York."

"And what were you going to do after you got to New York, assuming that by a miracle you did get on the plane?"

"I-I I don't know," I admitted.

"Exactly, Leonore." She said, "But, now I must go and make Brian his breakfast." She stood up and walked gracefully out of my room, leaving me to ponder our conversation. I was very sad that Manson didn't want to speak with me.

Poor Leonore......

How sad.....