I'm Not Jesus

The decision had been made over three years ago, Corey signed over his rights as a father to the mother of his child. It was best for the child. The world of a rock star wasn’t the best environment for a child, a newborn at that. Corey believes he would never see his child; the only thing he would ever have to remember his child by would be a sonogram photo from the twelve week scan. But he knew his child, boy or girl, would be growing up in a good environment.

Katherine was a good lady, Corey was glad she of all people would be the mother of his child. She was strong, brave, beautiful, and intelligent; there weren’t enough words in the dictionary to describe just how amazing she was. He always wondered what she was doing with her life, she was an aspiring model; she’d done bits before falling pregnant, but nothing afterwards.

Corey sat in his house looking through photographs of his life; the band, his beautiful daughter Angelina, his charismatic son Griffin, his two ex-wives and his now single life. He still saw Angelina plenty; however she’d be heading off to university in Chicago in a matter of days to study to become a sign-language teacher. Griffin lived in California with his mother, so visitation was limited. However the eight year old would write Corey letters, draw pictures, send photo’s from his soccer games every week. They’d always arrive on Tuesdays, so Tuesday quickly became Corey’s favourite day of the week.

The recent separation from his partner Stephanie left Corey wondering what his life would have been like if he had his nameless child. However Stone Sour had kept him from thinking too much. Their new record was in the process of being written, so whenever Corey did think it was generally about the lyrics he was writing and the emotion behind them.

The phone ringing in the kitchen disturbed his trip down memory lane, but Corey chose to ignore it. If it was important they’d leave a message, he was sure of it. However they didn’t, instead they rang back every minute. Getting fed up Corey slammed the photo album shut and answered with a gruff, “What?”

“Corey Taylor?”

He sighed, “Look I’m not in the mood, and don’t fucking call here again. I don’t care if you’re a fan of my band I expect some fucking privacy,”

”Sir I am Doctor Lucas Holloway from The Alamaba State Hospital,”

“I don’t know anyone in Alabama,” Corey said, sitting up on the bench in the kitchen.

”We have a Katherine Hobbes here. We’ve been trying to track you down for a week now,” Corey panicked, and gathered all the details he could before booking the next available flight to Alabama. The flight left in less than two hours, giving Corey only enough time to pack one spare change of clothes. The airport was crowded, Corey felt as though everyone was getting in his way on purpose.

The advantage of being in a band was that his passport was always valid; he’d never stayed in one country for more than two months. This meant in emergencies like this he was able to leave pretty much instantly. The flight took nearly two hours, in this time Corey had gotten himself scared at the possible thoughts of what could be happening; was Katherine okay? Where was their child? Was the child dead? All of the possible outcomes were starting to scare Corey.

Trying to get a taxi from the airport was like trying to catch a mosquito with a pair of chopsticks in his left hand, there was no way he could get one. The queue was over fifty people long. Instead of waiting, he got directions and started to walk to the hospital. It was only a matter of blocks away, and it would seem getting a taxi would have been a waste of time anyway. Walking only took ten minutes, and upon arrival there were quick directions to the Intensive Care unit where he was to meet Doctor Holloway.

Corey stopped at the counter where Doctors, Nurses and other workers were busy. Clearing his throat he spoke, “I’m looking for Doctor Lucas Holloway,”

“And you are?” A nurse asked, sucking on a lollypop and reading over a chart, clearly not caring.

“Corey Taylor,” The nurse looked straight up at Corey and nodded.

“Come right this way,” Everyone looked at Corey with sympathy suddenly, it was clear that they knew exactly what was going on while he was in the dark completely. He was lead past several patients before he was taken to an overly tall and muscular Doctor. The Nurse told him who Corey was before leaving them alone.

“Mr Taylor, I’m Doctor Holloway,” Corey stepped forward and shook his outstretched hand. “Okay, I’m sorry to inform you but Ms Hobbes was in a domestic dispute. Her partner had been, from what we know, beating her for a year or more. He stabbed her multiple times in the chest and abdomen,”

Corey’s jaw dropped, his heart was beating a mile a minute, “Is she alive?” Doctor Holloway hesitated before shaking his head.

“She had surgery this morning, and we had to try and repair her liver again. The stitches split because the bleeding was so heavy. However she bled out before it could be repaired, I am sorry,” Corey closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands. “Mr Taylor, are you aware of a child?”

“Yes,”

“She is in the hospital currently, in the paediatric unit,” Doctor Holloway started to walk towards the unit where Corey’s child was, “Are you the father?”

“Yes,”

“She has multiple fractures in her right arm, and her shoulder has been dislocated. Mr Taylor, there is some signs that she has been sexually assaulted,”

“But she’s three,” Corey said, eyebrows furrowed. “How could he do that?”

“I’m sorry,”

Corey was lead to the paediatric unit; there were bright colours everywhere, and children all laying in beds with their parents around them. Corey instantly felt guilty that nobody would have been there this whole week with his daughter.

“It’d be best, Mr Taylor, if you introduced yourself to her. Miss Hobbes informed us of everything, and you are legally allowed to claim your rights back now that Mrs Hobbes has passed on,” Corey thanked the helpful Doctor before spotting his daughter.

She was pale and thin, her arm was in a sling that was carefully splinted while her shoulder was strapped to stop the three year old from moving it. Corey walked towards her and made eye contact with the three year old.

As he sat next to her she said to him, “Are you Jesus?” She asked, holding up a book that explained Easter to the child in a colourful way.

“I’m not Jesus,” Corey told her, taking the book as she passed it to him.

“My names Shiloh,” She said quietly, her brown hair falling to her shoulders as she sat up a little. “I hurt my arm,” She told him pouting.

“Did you? Does it hurt now?” She shook her head, “Shiloh, do you know who I am?”

“No,”

“Shiloh, I’m your Dad,”

Nothing could surprise Corey more than her reaction she started screaming and backing away from him.