Ghost Whispers |-/ Joshler

im·pair·ment

/ˌimˈpermənt/
noun
the state of being diminished, weakened, or damaged, especially mentally or physically.

Play the music link when you see the *

When someone dies, we reevaluate our own lives. We find what we've accomplished and either scold or congratulate ourselves.

Or we look back and find what we did wrong. Where we messed up, what we can do to fix it.

Tyler did none of those things. He became catatonic.

Without Josh, his life had no meaning anymore. He didn't talk, he didn't eat.

In just a week, he reduced to a bag of bones sitting on his bed. Sallow, gaunt, and lost, Tyler Joseph did nothing but stare.

He stared at the floors, at the wall, at the ceiling, hoping something or someone would come back out of them, healthy and real.

His mother couldn't get him out of his room at all. He refused to go to his therapy sessions by sitting there in mournful silence. And with school starting in just one day, she had to take drastic measures.

The therapist, Dr. Frazier, was called to the house in an attempt to make Tyler talk. They brought chairs up to his room, and as they walked in, they saw the wall.

A name was painted across it over and over again and in every size, plastered on there with sporadic brush movements.

Josh.

The sight greatly worried Kelly, with Chris wanting to ask more questions than the ones that Dr. Frazier had loaded in the chamber. He hadn't heard anything about Josh, just seen his son speaking to air.

Three chairs were set down in front of Tyler's bed, and three chairs were filled.

Tyler looked miserable. He had dark circles under his eyes which were hooded, fatigue setting in. He was noticeably thinner, with his skin breaking out into goosebumps at the loss of fat to keep him warm.

His eyes were glossed over as they stayed trained on the spot where he had fallen as he tried to keep Josh.

"Tyler, I'm Dr. Frazier. Do you remember me?" The man said, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his kneecaps.

"Of course I remember," Tyler's low voiced-answer came, eyes still straight ahead. "I'm not brain damaged."

It was only my heart damaged in the process.

"Tyler!" Chris scolded. He hadn't expected his son to be so snappy, especially after a week of silence.

"Chris, let Dr. Frazier handle this." Kelly said softly, a hand on her husband's arm. He sighed.

Dr. Frazier took control of the room again by clearing his throat. "Tyler, would you mind if I started with a rather blunt question?"

He remained quiet. Taking it as a cue to do so, Dr. Frazier asked a question that made Tyler inhale sharply.

"Who's Josh?"