Slipknot Texts

Corey

Two days. That's how long it took to fine him.

Two. Whole. Days. Forty-eight. Fucking. Hours.

Scouting the area was a rollercoaster of emotions. Each lake, every nook and cranny of the forest, every single footstep, they were filled with false, degraded hope.

There were tears, there were arguments, there were threats...

It nearly ripped them apart.

Nathan Jonas Jordison.

Before his attempted suicide, that was just a name to someone everyone knew. Now, it was a broken, frail, pale stranger who was holding on by threads.

Telling the group that they couldn't see him was cliche, but that didn't stop them from getting a long glance of his still body, as they wheeled him away.

Corey's heart broke at the sight of his boyfriend, (Could he even label Joey as that anymore?) and Corey nearly overdosed on his own guilt as he sat in the hospital waiting room.

"Corey." A voice rang in his ears, but he didn't look up.

"Corey." He said again, and Corey forced his eyes to look up.

"What do you want Shawn?" Corey mumbled, defeat practically radiating off of his body.

"He isn't gonna wake up anytime soon."

Corey was about to get up and hit him, but Shawn held up his hand.

"So for the time being, we're going to your house...you've got some cleaning up to do."

Corey knew that his friend was right, but he couldn't leave Joey. Even if he wasn't going to wake up that day.

Corey ran a hand over his face, the creases in his forehead and the bags on his eyes apparent as ever.

Corey pried himself off the chair, keeping his tired eyes on the floor. He knew Shawn was looking at him in concern, but he didn't want the pity. Because this was all his fault.

When he was on his feet, he nodded slowly. "Okay."