"Girlfriends?" Craig asked after several minutes of silence. He looked across the table at Marilyn's father, reading the daily newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee. "That's right, she's bisexual."

Mrs. Sterling slammed something down on the kitchen counter, but didn't say anything. Her husband, on the other hand, set his reading material down on the table and looked at Craig. "You don't mention that under this roof, do you understand me, kid? We want nothing to do with Marilyn's philandering with other women, as far as I'm concerned she can burn in hell for this."

Craig instantly understood why Marilyn was so touchy, why she was so upset when he pointed out the collage in her bedroom. "It's only a sexual orientation, it doesn't mean anything about the person. I have a good friend whose homosexual, it doesn't lessen his character."

Mr. Sterling pointed his finger at Craig, "We believe in God in this house and we abide by The Holy Book. Don't you come in here preaching about the devil's work and about how sinning isn't sinning. You can either leave now or jog up those stairs and join the AntiChrist."

Choosing the latter, Craig rose to his feet and walked to Marilyn's bedroom door. He was surprised to realize that the music had stopped and that everything seemed relatively calm. Knocking, he cleared his throat. "It's Crai-"

The door opened slightly, just enough for a sliver of Marilyn's face to be seen. "I'm only going to tell you this once: I want you to leave, and thanks to what you said down there I doubt that you'll be allowed back in this house."

"A minute of your time, that's all I'm asking." He begged.

"No." The door slammed shut in his face and he heard the click of it being locked.

---

Later that night Craig sat in his room, the only light coming from the computer screen. He was creating a CD to give to Marilyn, the only way he could seemingly apologize to her. He spent hours searching the internet for the perfect song, searching lyric site after lyric site, and finally went to Kazza a half an hour ago to download the song and burn it onto the only blank CD left in his room. "Please let this work," he said aloud, "it's the only thing left I can think of."

---

A loud pink! coming from the window woke her up. She was a light sleeper, the slightest noise could rouse her from her dreams, and she was never too happy about that. There was another pink!, proving that Marilyn wouldn't be able to just fall back to sleep like nothing happened, so she threw the covers off of her body and made her way sleepily to her window. She had a chair near the window with a lamp right by it, which was flipped on. Opening the window, Marilyn looked down and sighed. "What do you want, Craig?" She slid up the screen to look at him better.

"Back up." He threw the CD case with all his might, watching it soar upwards and through her window. It landed on the floor, the 'listen to me' scribbled down on the case facing the ceiling.

Marilyn picked it up and looked out the window, seeing Craig standing on the lawn patiently, looking back at her. She picked up her laptop from her desk and carried it to the chair. Sitting down, she booted the computer up and put the music disc into the machine. The Media Player popped up and she pressed play:

My eyes seek reality
My fingers seek my veins
There's a dog at your back step
He must come in from the rain
I fall 'cause I let go
The net below has rot away
So my eyes seek reality
And my fingers seek my veins

For a few years of her life Marilyn loved this song, but now she didn't. She leaned back in her chair. "Why Metallica?"

The trash fire is warm
But nowhere safe from the storm
And I can't bear to see
What I've let me be
So wicked and worn

"Got that right," She grumbled, looking at the window with emotion filled eyes.

So as I write to you
Of what is done and to do
Maybe you'll understand
And won't cry for this man
'cause low man is due

Please forgive m-

At this point Marilyn stopped the CD and and made a song message of her own. When she was done, she tossed it out of her window and closed it.

---

It was near midnight by the time Craig snuck back into the house and up to his room. His stomach was in a knot, panic washing over him as he stared at the CD. "Maybe she forgave me..." He got out his discman and put on the headphones. Laying down on his bed, he plopped the DC into the player and hit start, adjusting the volume up.

Wish I was too dead to cry
My self-affliction fades
Stones to throw at my creator
Masochists to which I cater

You don't need to bother; I don't need to be
I'll keep slipping farther
But once I hold on, I won't let go 'til it bleeds

Wish I was too dead to care
If indeed I cared at all
Never had a voice to protest
So you fed me shit to digest
I wish I had a reason; my flaws are open season
For this, I gave up trying
One good turn deserves my dying

You don't need to bother; I don't need to be
I'll keep slipping farther
But once I hold on, I won't let go 'til it bleeds

Wish I'd died instead of lived
A zombie hides my face
Shell forgotten with its memories
Diaries left with cryptic entries

And you don't need to bother; I don't need to be
I'll keep slipping farther
But once I hold on, I won't let go 'til it bleeds

You don't need to bother; I don't need to be here
I'll keep slipping farther
But once I hold on (once I hold on)... I'll never live down my deceit

(A/N: Songs used in this chapter: Low Man's Lyric by Metallica and Bother by Stone Sour.)