"Lily, can't you ever calm down?" Manson groaned, lifting himself from his spot on the floor, where he was slopping paint onto monstrous canvas paper. His Rex was scratching mercilessly at the basement door, hissing loudly. Fed up, Manson stalked over and flicked water from his wet brush at her, staining the cat's short, white fur a watered-down blue.

Lily merely jumped, turning around and racing over to her master, digging her claws into his bare feet, then attacking the door once again.

"Wh- F***! Lily, godd*mn it; fine!" Manson, after rubbing his foot furiously for a moment, reached over and opened the basement door.

The cat meowed loudly, in thanks, and scrambled down the stairs.

Frustrated, the singer plopped down on the floor, cradling his foot closer to him as he sat indian-style. He slowly wiped away tiny drops of blood that formed at the punctures, intent on his work, until, after only a few minutes later, Lily hurdled back up, dashing straight past him and toward the second flight of stairs.

Furrowing his brow, Manson sighed and again rose, moving to investigate the cause of his cat's fright. He edged the door open farther, blinking for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before him.

A hand swiftly reached out and grabbed Manson by his shirt collar, from somewhere below him. He screamed, terrified, as he was pulled downwards. The singer desperately tried to pry the fingers away, his own hand coming up red, as the being's wrist was caked with dry and fresh blood.

Stepping into sight was Frank, his pupils gigantic, and his eyes bloodshot. His breath came in shallow spasms as he brought the musician to eye level.

"You monster..." he whispered.

Manson trembled, scared stiff as he thought he was about to be thrown into he depths of the basement.

Then, slowly, Frank dragged the man's upper body closer, turning his head, face pale and menacing.

He pressed his parched lips to Manson's.