We Made You || An Eminem FanFiction

Tears Of A Clown

"Please stop antagonizing her" I groaned as Marshall stalked around my bedroom in nothing but boxers, getting clothes ready to wear.

I was trying my best to ignore the abs starting back at me.

He really was unfazed by me around him being half-naked.

We were currently "getting ready" for dinner together in the master bedroom.

He stopped, looking at me raising his eyebrows.

"I heard her tell you to go back on a diet" He said frowning pulling a shirt on over his head "What the fuck? If you stood sideways in the wind you would blow the fuck away, hell I ain't think I've seen you eat anything but rabbit food"

I turned into my closet ignoring him palming through my clothes.

"And suddenly you dress like you're out of the little house on the prairie? What happened to the daisy dukes?"

I turn around to see Marshall standing there in his t-shirt and boxers, leaning against the entrance of my closet.

"The less she can see the less she can point out"

Marshall looked at me as if I was crazy.

"How about you just tell her to fuck off?"

"it's not that easy Marshall"

"Watch my lips" Marshall said pointing to mouth "Fuck off.. easy"

"I appreciate you're trying to help, but I really can't do that" I mumbled turning back around.

I could feel his eyes burn into me as I pretended to look at the rhinestones on one of my old stage outfits.

"Why? what are you afraid of?"

I sighed grabbing a maxi dress off the rack and walked past him, laying it out on the bed, standing back and going over it in my head trying to figure out what could be picked apart about it.

I hear my guitar being strummed, I turn to see Marshall sitting there playing it, I could have sworn he was playing Sweet child of mine.

"I didn't know you played" I said staring confused at him as he hummed the words.

"I'm no slash... I taught myself on the road... More so since I've sobered... My ma use to sing this to Nate and I when she was drunk, he always played it..." He mumbled, strumming "It reminds me of Hailie... I also play the piano too... If you tell anyone about that one I'll kill you"

I grabbed my other guitar and sat down next to him as he continued to play, picking up the other strums.

I started strumming along, there wasn't anything I enjoyed more than playing music with people.

It was universal.

Rap, country, rock, punk... It all had the same magic of healing.

"Why can't you?"

He wasn't looking at me, he watched as he strummed the strings.

"Because she's the only person that knows how to destroy me"

"I don't believe that" He hummed as he was quietly singing the lyrics.

I frowned at him as I continued to quietly sing along.

"The reason I was an alcoholic and the breakdown... Was because of her... Because she knows how to get me, so believe it" I said closing my eyes, putting my guitar down on the bed and standing up.

I looked at Marshall who had also stopped playing and was frowning "She has that much power over you?" He said looking up at me.

"Marshall" I sighed, annoyed, he was relentless "This is a woman that told me that when I grew up no one would want to marry me because I was too fat, I was 6 Marshall, 6 damn years old, I have 35 years of trauma from all the mental abuse that I have lived through from my mother, and don't get me started on the terrible men she had me date that use to beat me" I said pointing him in the chest while he sat there looking shocked "You've known me a little over a month, besides that face in a year you'll be moving on and I have no idea why you are so interested in my damn life, do me a favor and stop pretending like you care"

I stormed off into the ensuite and shut the door.

My heart was racing, I had never gone off on someone like that.

I started to feel guilty as I turned the shower on.

No don't do that, he's asking you about personal things, things you can't even begin to explain without sounding crazy.

He'll see how messed up you actually are.

Am I kidding myself?

Do I forget who HE is?

He's the poster child for messed up, you can trust him.

Can you?

Or is he going to use it against you like everyone else does.

Like she does.

He's not her.

I stepped into the shower, washing myself, taking the time so that the guilt could eat me alive a little more.

I need a drink so bad.

I finished washing myself then stepped out of the shower, wrapping the town around my body.

There was a light knock on the door, I prepared myself.

I sighed opening it to see Marshall standing there.

"I'm sorry" He said, eyes locked on mine, standing there with his hands in his jean pockets "I'm not pretending either, I just want to help you, I've been where you are"

I suited at him "Help me?"

He sighed and grabbed my arm walking me over to the bed.

"Whatever the shit this hole act is?"

"Is not a ac-"

"It is, you can't bullshit a bullshitter, I faked most of my early years in the spotlight" He said rolling his eyes "I'll drop it for now but when you're ready, I'm here, I like you, you one hell of a talented person, but I hate seeing people get taken advantage of, fuck that"

"Ok" I mumbled hoping that it would end the conversation " Can we just get ready to we can go get this over with, the longer she waits the longer she had for the venom to pool"

"Let the bitch marinade" He smirked playfully, falling back on my couch pulling out his notebook, while I collected my clothes and went back into the bathroom "I don't rush for no bitch"

I wish I could say that, I got dressed in a panic because I could imagine my mother downstairs pacing and tapping her foot, checking her watch.

"Fuck her" I heard Marshall utter to himself from inside my bedroom.

I shook my head.

I wish I possessed his attitude, I really did.