Ghost Whispers |-/ Joshler

pal·a·din |-/

/ˈpalədn/
noun
a knight renowned for heroism and chivalry.

Tyler's morning went as it normally did. He stared at himself in the mirror and wondered how he got to be this way.

Not only manically depressed, but driven insane as well. By whom or what, he had no clue, but he knew insanity crept up on him.

The mirror was mounted on a cabinet above the sink. Tyler's eyes bore into his reflection. Behind those eyes of his...he saw something no-one else could. Not only did they house storms of violence, but ultimate sorrow. His troubles weighed down on him daily, and he felt as if...

He didn't know how to describe it. How would one tell someone else that they've lost all will to live, even get out of bed? To have their mind crushed by its own problems until nothing but a smidgen remained?

It felt like...like...

"Your soul is dying, maybe?"

Joshua had woken up after Tyler and now stood behind him, staring at the boy's reflection as well. The suggestion of the description of course, was not heard by Tyler.

He sighed and washed his face, scrubbing every inch of it roughly with a washcloth. Joshua merely looked on, spacing out while staring at Tyler.

Standing back up straight, Tyler was met by the reflection of Abraxas grinning. Sniffling from the rush of water up his nose, Tyler rubbed his nose.

Joshua, now looking back at the mirror, saw Abraxas behind him and spun around.

"What are you doing here?" He sputtered.

Shrugging, the demon made a general look to the room around them. "It's a dark day for Tyler. I must be here in case he decides to off himself."

Off himself? It wasn't just the thought that disgusted Joshua, but the pure disregard of polite words. 'Offing' oneself was a crude way to phrase it.

"Don't talk about him like that. I'm helping him avoid that kind of stuff." Joshua growled in response.

"Clearly not." Abraxas crossed his arms over his chest and nodded to Tyler behind Joshua.

Spinning around once more, Joshua saw that Tyler held a razor over his left wrist. His body was shaking, the most being his right hand, which held the pink razor.

"Tyler!"

Joshua launched himself forward, once again forgetting he was a ghost, and made a move to slap the razor out of his hand. It didn't move an inch.

"Goddamn it!"

Abraxas was chuckling maliciously behind them. He felt triumphant in his mission. He was winning.

The plastic sheathing of the razor touched Tyler's skin, and he tilted the blade down onto the surface. All he had to do was press and drag.

Press and drag, Tyler, press and drag. Abraxas urged him on.

Press and drag... Tyler repeated mindlessly.

This would be another instance of Joshua mustering every ounce of his being, energy, and will to intervene.

The razor flew out of Tyler's hand, nicking his skin as it was so abruptly forced away from his delicate skin.

He gasped loud enough to earn the attention of his mother passing the bathroom. She knocked on the door, asking if he was okay.

Tyler snatched up the razor and threw it across the bathroom. It was supernatural or something, maybe possessed.

"I'm fine, I just missed the toilet!" He lied through the door.