I'm Sorry- A Slipknot Story

Chapter 112

---time skip---

"You switching with anyone today," Corey asks.

"Nah. Might as well see you guys being the crazy motherfuckers you are than impeding on that," I say, making him laugh.

"When are you thinking of switching," Mick asks. We're in the dressing room, and Sid's jumping around like Corey in '99. Or like him in '99. Either guy was insane enough to compare.

"Ah, maybe in a week or so. I want you guys to get used to going on stage instead of getting lazy," I say, making Joey shake his head.

"We never get lazy," he says, getting my look of doubt.

"Okay, okay, I know what you mean," he says.

"Plus, I still need to find the right height heel so I make myself as tall as you guys," I add.

"Why," Paulie asks.

"Because I want to be as extra as possible and I want to see what you guys see," I say, Craig turning to me.

"To an extent. I don't want to put on any of your disgusting masks," I say.

"Hey, they're not disgusting," Sid says.

"Yet. Not disgusting yet," I say.

"True. That is definitely true," Jim says.

"Damn right," I say, making them laugh.

"Have fun guys," I say as the opening starts. They pinch my ass and walk out, my mind making me follow them backstage. I stop next to Disturbed and shake hands with them, watching the guys being themselves.

--lil' time skip--

Sid attempts to jump into his spot, but missteps. He collapses and since I was on his side I quickly help him off the stage. Along with the paramedics here. They put him on a trunk and I instantly hug him tight, trying not to burst into tears.

"Are you okay Sid," I ask.

"No. My feet really hurt, mostly my heels," he admits.

"I'm going to need another hug though," he says. I hug him again and he stands, resisting the urge to collapse again.

"Be careful this time," I say, helping him to the edge of the stage. I let him go back and Corey looks to me, using the little hand signs I taught him in ASL.

'What happened?'

'Heels break. Keep going.'

He nods a little and Sid limps back to his spot, getting a stool to sit on. He props one foot on it and keeps going, occasionally looking at me and flashing me the ILY sign. I give it back and wait for the show to end so I can piggy-back him to the bus.

-after show-

They end and Sid looks at me, making his eyebrows go up. I walk to him and put him on my back, carrying him backstage.

"Ya know, even though I'm almost crying from pain, I wouldn't've moved off the stage without you doing this," he says.

"I just don't want you to hurt. It breaks my heart to see anyone of you guys hurting," I say.

"Aside from the intentional stuff. This wasn't intentional, right," I ask.

"Fuck no. I was being stupid up to the point I woke up this morning. I didn't take the precautions I should've and here I am now, being carried to the bus by my twin," he says.

"Do you want to walk," I ask.

"No. Please don't make me," he says.

"I would never make you walk if it hurts you and you know that," I say.

"Even if the maggots look," he asks like a child. He's so adorable sometimes.

"Yeah. I don't fuckin' care if they look or say something, they'll understand," I say, feeling Sid relax. He's sleeping off the pain.

I hop on the bus and gently set him on the couch heel-up. I adjust his head so he can breathe and take off his mask, seeing tears stained on his cheeks and nose. And on the inside of his mask. Tears still roll across his face and I resist the urge to shed tears of my own.

"First, we're taking him to the hospital, then to the next show," Corey says.

"Sounds good. Didn't I say at the first fuckin' day of recording that I wouldn't go to a hospital for you guys or me," I ask.

"Yes you did. I think you meant mostly you, but yeah," Joey says.

"Welp. I guess I can't help going back to a hospital. It's my third home," I say.

"What's your second," Corey asks.

"Here. On tour with nine crazy guys I love like brothers," I say.

"How are you like this all the damn time? It's impossible for me to be that wholesome," Corey says.

"Practice. I have a lot of siblings I need to be nice to all the time," I say.

"Even the older ones," Joey asks.

"Even the older ones. They're worse because they get away with too many things because they blame everything on me," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Always the middle child. Never the young ones because it's not believable enough so they go for the middle child," Corey says.

"Exactly. The middle child is the scapegoat," I say.