Ghost Whispers |-/ Joshler

pre·hend

/prēˈhend/
verb
to catch and forcefully hold; to grasp mentally

Tyler could feel himself growing older at a faster rate. He was maturing physically, with stubble coming in and his face sharpening around the jaw and cheeks.

What with the stubble, Tyler had to shave either every other day or every day. Seeing as how he was checked in with suicidal tendencies, schizophrenia, hallucinations, and possible multiple personality disorder, he wasn't allowed anywhere near a sharp object.

A nurse would take him to the bathroom and sit him down in a chair, where another patient had his own daily shave in a chair next to him.

He'd try to make small talk, mainly consisting of the fact that the government was out to get him, to get everyone. Textbook nut job.

Tyler would never converse with Adrian, the man who claimed even the razors were funded by the NSA to keep every man looking the same.

Today was more of the same, with Tyler waiting with his hands in his lap patiently as the older woman carefully shuffled from side to side to get rid of the growing hairs.

He was forced to stare at his reflection in the mirror, the haunting image of an empty spot beside him. Josh would have been there, hand on his shoulder and watching over him.

But he was taken, and he was never coming back. Tyler was doomed to wander life alone, figuring out where he belonged, if such a place even existed, or simply fall apart.

Eyes trained on abandoned air, Tyler bit the inside of his cheek. It caused the nurse to tut and make him let go. She went on and continued to shave down his cheeks.

Tyler wasn't fazed either, and felt something twist his heart in a vice. He could see Josh, standing to his right, a soft smile on his face.

He could see the warmth in his eyes, and how he too wanted to be there with Tyler. His tears were blotted by a sleeve, lip quivering at the sight of the brunette trapped in the institution.

Of course he wasn't really there. Dead and gone, for real, Josh would never walk the earth again. He would only live on in memories, the fondest ones having found a home in Tyler's mind.

Nurse Cameron tilted Tyler's chin up, going down the hill of it and ending at the protruded muscle above the collarbones. She wiped the razor and went down again, careful not to nick any skin.

Gritty, sickening cracks of smooth metal against coarse hair sounded in Tyler's ears. It annoyed him, and he twitched his head.

This cause the blade pressed to his neck to slide and cut the top layer of skin, a small sheet of blood flowing out gently.

"'Shit." The nurse spat under her breath, rushing to wipe it up and stop the bleeding with a nearby rag.

Tyler didn't move when he felt the sting of the blade, not even when the blood appeared. He just sat still in the chair, watching his neck bleed.

Josh was gone in his mind by now, the emptiness ringing louder than ever before.

Blood spilled and was mopped up, the bloodied rags left on the counter as Tyler was rushed to the nurse's station, his eyes and mind vacant.

Nothing mattered to him anymore. He could bleed out right then and there and he wouldn't have a care in the world. As long as he could see Josh again.

In the ward, Tyler would spend his nights with his extra pillow, whether it was clutched tightly in his arms, pressed against his back like it was Josh, or next to his head so he could pretend it was him.