We Made You || An Eminem FanFiction

Welcome To Detroit

I sat at the end of the king-size bed of the guestroom, looking around.

This would be my home for the next year, I'm still not even sure how it's going to work.

I mean the only acting I've done was commercials as a child and the music videos to my songs, I've never done any bigtime acting, I'm sure I was going to blow this whole thing.

I was an awkward person these days, up until my break down I was Country Musics sweetheart and I was quite confident.

But I had alcohol to fuel that fire.

Now I was nothing like that person, but what nobody knew is that that person was a facade.

She wasn't who I really was.

The glitz and glamorous songstress was opposite to the quiet boring person I actually was, but year's of my mother's harsh criticism taught me to pretend.

My mother's voice echoed in my head warning me that boring smart girls never amounted to anything, and I can that the lord himself that he had blessed me with the looks of a model and the voice of an angel.

Thanks mom.

We had two weeks until we attended an award show officially as a couple, he was up for award nominations for his newly released album Relapse.

I ran my fingers over the cheat sheets outlining our "story" so to speak.

It made me wonder if there was ever a time I wouldn't have to fake, when I would be free to be myself instead of catering to everyone around me.

I just wanted to make music for people, that's it.

I looked at my guitar in the corner of the room and sighed, standing up, and walking out of the guestroom.

I heard ain't music so I made my way down to the lower level of the house, finding a studio, at least he has one built-in, I wonder if he would let me use it when he wasn't, I much preferred to record at home.

Quietly pushing the door open I arrived just in time for the song to finish.

"Was wondering when you'd find your way down here"

Marshall said, sitting at the soundboard, turning in his chair to face me, casually sat back, gray jumper, black jeans and a Nike hat slung backwards.

"Your guest room is beautiful, thank you"

"Don't thank me, your manager insisted on making it "suitable" for you since you're here for a while" He shrugged nonchalantly "Normally I ain't change a bit but apparently this isn't a matter of choice.

I sighed "Tell me about it... I was quite happy being unhappy and judges alone on my own home"

He cocked an eyebrow "Well Harley Quinn, I've had a bit of time catching up on your last Album... Manhater eh? They really didn't think this through ag all"

He then flicked a few switches and my song "Before He Cheats" fills the room.

I had to laugh, the irony of this whole thing.

"Maybe they think because we're both violent they think we're a match for this?"

"It's far fetched that they think a narcissistic misogynist and Americas sweetheart who sing about heartbreak would be in a relationship"

His eyebrows shot up "Damn Quinzel, don't be hatin, not now, wait till we're at least past the honeymoon stage"

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"Well because your name is Harleen, I kinda have this obsession with comic books and superheroes and it just... Well, Harleen Quinzel was her name before she jumped into a vat of acid for the Joker after he broke her and became Harley Quinn... Kinda relates to your nervous breakdown..."

"You saw that?" I said slouching, it was official, the entire world saw it, even people who have been locked up in their homes recovering.

"If someone didn't see your breakdown, they either were blind or didn't own a tv" He said clearing his voice turning my music off and shrugging it off "Not that it matters though, it's in the past, don't be ashamed, I had a drug overdose after relapsing"

"I knew you were a recovering alcoholic but I didn't know you.."

"Flatlined, Yeah"

"I never heard about it"

"I have a great management team, they had it out that I was in the hospital recovering from pneumonia"

I was shocked, the fact that they managed to hide something like that was incredible.

He was so casual talking about it, like it wasn't a big deal, and here I was avoiding any conversation about my break down.

"So, why did you have a breakdown?" Marshall said casually, eyes facing the screen of the soundboard, as if he was disinterested.

And there it was, like he read my mind, he wasn't even looking at me, I was confused.

"Well, I..." As I started his phone rang and he answered it, standing up and walking out of the room.

Saved by the bell.

I hated talking about it, even with my therapist.

I would rather talk about the times I drank myself into such a state I woke up in my own urine and no recollection of how I got there, or the fact I don't my license for a DUI at 9 am in the morning.

That was embarrassing sure and I would hate for it to become public knowledge, but I find THAT shame easier to speak about then my mental break.

I still have nightmares about the place they sent me to "get better".

I looked around Marshall's home studio, it wasn't much different than mine, it was also very homely, I had read somewhere that he was a creature of habit which made me feel guilty because this whole thing was somewhat of a huge inconvenience, even though it wasn't my fault.

He had facial expressions that I found difficult to read, normally I could read a room but somehow his body language and facial expressions hard for me to gage.

So I didn't know if he was joking or not, I could however pick up the sarcasm, but most of the time since I've met him, he just looked serious and angry.

I heard him walk back in, clearing his throat.

Turning to look at him he looked annoyed but calm.

"Right" He said with a casual stance almost like he didn't care, and even slipped in and eyeroll "Ready to get to know each other? Apparently, according to the powers that be, I'm to school you in the subject of the world that is Marshall Mathers and visa versa"