The Monster |Slim Shady/ Eminem and Rihanna new story|

chapter two:

 Marshall woke up from a trance, his eyes immediately looking up at the ceiling. He looked around, and saw that everything was white. The only surroundings present were a locked door "How the fuck did God let me into Heaven?" He asked himself, confused as ever. If he was in heaven, why was he all alone?

"Sweetheart, God doesn't even know what to do with you. That's why you're here," a feminine voice had spoken from behind.

Marshall tried to get up, and then fell back down immediately. He was in restraints. The chains on his ankles didn't give him much wiggle room. He did what he always did and kept his head down, hearing the woman's heels click all the way to her chair.

"What's the point in putting me in a white room with padded walls if I'm already in a straightjacket?"

The woman shifted in her seat.

"According to new regulations for this place, the inmates are allowed to be emotionally tortured by doing things like this, and not even giving you the freedom and space to let your frustration out. I personally think it just makes you fucktards crazy."

"Are you being sarcastic or something? Cause it ain't fuckin' funny."

"Marshall, if no psychologist you've ever had told you this, they don't know how to do their own job. We're all insane. Some of us just have the balls to let it out."

Marshall had actually looked up and stared into the woman's chocolate-colored orbs. He didn't expect the words that came out of her mouth.

"Oh, excuse my manners. My name is Dr. Fenty, but please, just call me Robin. I'm you're new and permanent psyhologist.

"Who says you're here to stay? Every single one of you morons who were assigned to me that came here, died here," he spat, showing her the blood all over his hands.

"It's kinda hard to kill me now, isn't it?"

Marshall remained silent.

"Get used to me buddy. More importantly, get used to playing by my rules. Not yours."

And with that, she strutted back out the door.

She thought she had intrigued the man, but really, he was thinking up ways to kill her.

She wanted to play? He was going to play too.

And Marshall Mathers never loses. He always ends on top.