Chapter 5

Tyler POV

Jenna and I knew our credit and background checks would come through clean. What surprised me was that we had offered to take in this kid without discussing it, but both agreeing to.

There was something about Samantha that spoke to us. We knew she needed a home. We wanted to provide that home. She could be safe with us. And happy.

"Oh," I said to the social worker. "I'm not sure how to go about doing this, but we'll take care of the hospital bill for Samantha."

"Are you sure?" She asked.

"We called the ambulance. We're willing to take her into our home. We are capable of paying the bill," I said.

"Okay. I'll let Billing know. Someone will come talk to you in the morning."

"Great," Tyler smiled.

"This is going to be expensive," I said. "What are you? A millionaire or something?"

"Something like that," he said. "If you look carefully, I'm on your t-shirt."

"What?"

Jenna pulled my muddy t-shirt out of the plastic bag that my clothes had been put in when the nurses must have changed me into a hospital gown. I'd been wearing my TwentyOne Pilots shirt. One of my favourite bands. I looked at the shirt and then at Tyler.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?  This guy has a ski mask on," I said.

"Touché. And I didn't bring my ski mask with. Jen, how should I prove to this young lady that I'm the ski mask guy on her shirt?"

"You could try singing for her," Jenna said.

"I could," he said. "But maybe I'm just a really good singer."

"Well, it's not like you carry business cards," Jenna said.

"Could you imagine. Band business cards. That might be an idea," Tyler mused.

I listened to the two of them.

"I know, why don't I call Josh?" Tyler said.

"Josh?" I asked.

"Josh. My drummer. Josh Dun,"

"Yeah. Okay. Call 'Josh' and have him prove you're Tyler Joseph."

"There's also my driver's license. I could show you that. Would that be proof enough?"

He pulled out his wallet and his phone. He opened his contacts and pressed on 'Josh - mobile' while pulling his license out of his wallet and handing it to me.

"Hey Ty," a voice came over the speaker phone on Tyler's phone. "What's up? Everything okay?"

"Hey Josh. Everything's good. I just need you to confirm something for me."

"Shoot,"

"Who am I?"

"Who?  Are you okay, Ty?  Is Jenna there?"

"I'm fine. I know who I am. Have a young lady here who doesn't believe I am who I say I am, despite the fact that she's holding my license. And was wearing one of our shirts."

"You're trying to prove you're you to a fan? What the hell is going on?"

"It's a bit of a long story, which I promise I will tell you later, but for now, I just need you to tell miss Samantha that I am indeed me,"

"Am I on speaker phone?  Is this candid phone call? Jenna, if you're there, what's going on? Is Tyler okay?"

"Hey Josh," Jenna said. "Tyler's fine. Long story short, we had a bit of an incident in which a teenager wound up in our backyard and we had to bring her to the hospital. Now Tyler is trying to prove we are who we say we are."

"I assume there is more to this story and I definitely want to hear it, but kid, Samantha, yes, that's Tyler Joseph and his beautiful wife, Jenna. As far as I know, you're all still in Columbus, Ohio, because that's where Tyler was when I spoke to him this morning."

I thought I was going to faint.

"Hey, Josh, you think, just to be extra, we could FaceTime?  Samantha still looks like shes unconvinced."

"Sure. I'll call you back," Josh said.

Tyler hung up and his phone started ringing.  He picked it up and answered the video call, turning  the phone to me.

Joshua Dun was looking at me.

"Good thing you're in a hospital, Ty. She looks like she's going to pass out."

"You, you're, you're Josh," I stammered.

He smiled.

"I am indeed. And holding the phone is my buddy Tyler. And he is who he says he is. And please don't pass out if you can help it. And Tyler, I want to hear this whole story,"

"I'll fill you in in a day or so," Tyler said.

They said goodbye and I just stared at Tyler.

"You, you're, you. You're you,"

"You're very eloquent," Tyler said.

I'm pretty sure I actually did pass out. Because I woke up in a hospital room. Not the ER.

"Hey there," Tyler said, sitting up and coming into my line of vision.  "You kinda passed out again."

"I'm dreaming, right?  Did my dad finally do me in?  Is this heaven?"

"If heaven is a hospital room in Columbus, Ohio, where the oatmeal looks like wallpaper paste, then I don't think you're in heaven." He said, pulling a tray table with a breakfast tray on it.

"And did you really offer to be my foster parents?" I asked. Knowing that part was definitely a dream and he was going to look at me like I'm crazy.

"We did. And the social worker has already been by to get our information.  Jenna just went home to catch some zzzs and to wash and dry your clothes. Because you're going to not want to wear muddy clothes or a hospital gown home."

"You're so sure you'll get approved?"

"I'm pretty confident," he said.  "Why don't you try some breakfast?"

I opened the tray and saw something that might be eggs, a serving of oatmeal and some juice and a carton of milk.

"This is the diabetic meal?" I asked.

"Evidently. You want something different?"

"I'll try the eggs, but oatmeal is gross at the best of times," I said. "And juice is just stupid to give a diabetic."

"A diabetic whose blood sugar was so low it didn't register on a glucose monitor," Tyler said.  "And your last blood sugar was only 77. So I suppose they know what they're doing."

"I need insulin before I eat," I said.

"Oh. Let me call the nurse. I have no idea what they've done so far."

He pressed the call button and a few minutes later a nurse came in.

"Yep. What's up?" She asked.

"I need insulin before I can eat," I said.

"Okay. Let me get a monitor, and check your blood sugar, then I'll have to check if the doctor put in an order. Okay?"

"Yep," I said.

She came back and checked my blood sugar. It was 73. I calculated the carbs I intended to eat and told the nurse the dose of insulin I thought I needed.

She came back with a syringe and gave me the shot in my stomach.

"All good?" She asked.

"Yeah. Thanks," I said.

"How do you know how much insulin you need?" Tyler asked.

"Well, I have a pretty good idea of how many carbs are in juice and eggs and oatmeal. I'm not eating the oatmeal, so I didn't calculate that, but I did add the milk. I know how many units of insulin I need compared to how many grams of carbs are in the food I'm about to eat. It's different for everyone, depending on how they process carbs and insulin.

If I get it right, my blood sugar should stay between 72 and 180 after I eat. If I didn't calculate enough, my sugar might go over 180. If I take too much, it'll go under 72. And we'll, you've seen too low."

"And you have to do this for every meal?"

"And snack," I said.

"Wow. Well, guess Jen and I have a lot to learn," Tyler said.

"You don't have to learn any of it. You don't have to take me in," I said. I was used to dealing on my own.

"Nope. We are committed. Although, I should have probably asked this last night, what about your mom?  Why don't we contact her?"

"Do you have a Ouija board?" I asked.

"No. Why?"

"That's the only way to contact her," I said.

"You're a very dark and sarcastic person aren't you?" Tyler asked.

I took a bite of my "eggs" and grinned at Tyler.

"You have no idea."