Searching for Purpose (Twenty One Pilots)

32. The Start

Tyler nodded again.

Slowly Josh got up and made his way out of Tyler' room. In the distance a door closed, and that was the last thing Tyler heard before complete silence.

Tyler sat on the edge of his bed, hands gripping the sheets tightly for no reason other than to feel grounded. He looked around his room. Almost everything that could be used as a weapon or cause any kind of harm had been removed. It made Tyler feel weird.

Thoughts ran laps around his brain, asking questions as soon as he had figured out an answer. It was all too much for him to handle, reminding him of all those other times he had used an escape. His forearms burned and his fingers twitched, but he never let go of his sheets. He didn't know if it was because he was being strong or if it was out of the fear of what else might happen if he couldn't control himself.

Eventually Tyler got up and walked into his bathroom. As soon as his door was closed he rested his back against it. His mind was racing faster, becoming louder, lashing out. Too much.

You're a coward, his mind whispered.

"Coward," Tyler repeated.

You're no good.

"No good."

You can't even kill yourself. You're a failure.

"Failure."

And now everyone is stuck with you.

Tyler's hands began shaking and his legs felt like they were going to give out it any moment.

You're weak, pathetic, worthless, stupid, inadequate...

Tyler was on the edge of tears.

You know it's all true.

With tears streaming down his face, Tyler moved away from his bathroom door looked into his mirror. There were dark bags under his eyes from the many nights he hadn't been able to fall asleep and his hair was longer than it had ever been, falling lifelessly against his forehead. The skin on his face, and once he stepped back, every inch of the skin that covered his body, was a sickly pale and he could see some of his bones poking out at awkward angles.

He grimaced at his appearance and rested his hands on the bathroom counter, letting his head fall forward and his tears land in the sink. His shoulders shook as he cried, becoming even more upset at the fact that he was crying in the first place.

"Worthless," he muttered to himself. He blinked away more tears and raised his head to stare angrily back at his reflection.

"Fucking worthless," he said again, this time with venom dripping off of each syllable.

He suddenly turned away from the mirror, as if to leave the bathroom, but swung back around immediately. A mangled scream escaped from his mouth as his fist collided with the mirror. It broke on contact and thousands of tiny shards fell away from the wall.

Tyler left his hand against the wall, panting and shaking from all of the adrenaline running through his body. When he pulled his hand back, all he could do was stare at the way his blood was dripping into the sink. He was so mesmerized by the sight that he didn't hear the sound of a door opening and slamming shut and a pair of feet worriedly rushing down the hall.

A loud knock on the door tore Tyler's eyes away from the mirror.

"Tyler?" cried a worried voice. It was Josh. Why was Josh there? "Tyler, was that you?"

There was more knocking at the door as Tyler dazedly moved towards it.

"Please, Tyler, open up!"