since eighth grade. → markiplier

Chapter Fifty-Three: "Hey Death," Get Fucked

Chapter Fifty-Two: "Hey Death," Get Fucked

So wattpad is bein a lil bietch and whenever I try to edit its like 'nah nah you aint changing nothin' so yeah I'm getting super frustrated

Ellie

I woke up with stiff muscles and a familiar ringtone blaring in my ears. I groaned and rolled over on my side, snatching my phone that lay beside my head.

"Hello?" I called out grouchily, holding a hand to my head as I pressed the device to my ear.

"Ellie! Christ, I've been calling you for ages," Mark sighed from the other end. I blinked and rubbed my eyes.

"Uh, what time is it?"

"Like, three in the morning." Mark told me. I widened my eyes and sat up from the carpet abruptly, noticing that the ringing of my phone had awoken Alan and Austin who both lay on the couch. They knuckled their eyes and yawned.

"Shit," I cursed, standing up quickly and ignoring the complaints from my aching muscles. "I didn't realize. I'd fallen asleep and-"

"Ellie, it's fine. Just make your way home, please?" He asked.

I sighed softly and ran a hand through my hair. "Yeah, okay, sorry." I mumbled, cutting the call and thrusting my phone into the back of my pocket.

"You have smudged cat whiskers on your face," Alan pointed out with a tired laugh. "And you reek of weed."

"Honestly? I don't care," I snapped, feeling grouchy from having just woken up and the sadness caused by the come down from the drug. "Thanks for the kush, and thanks for letting me sleep for a while." I told them, walking over and hugging Alan. He held on for a while, and released me with a big smile on his face. I moved over to austin, who stood up when he hugged me. I curled my hands around his shoulders and breathed in the scent of his cologne, and unwrapped myself from him reluctantly.

"I'll see you soon," Alan promised. "Here, take this," he said, pressing a spliff into my hand. "Just incase you feel like you need another one, alright?" I nodded and shoved it into my jacket pocket.

"Thanks," I muttered, suddenly feeling nervous about walking around this late at night.

"Do you want me to walk you? It's late and y'never know who's walking the streets at this time." Austin offered, almost as if he had read my mind.

"That'd be nice," I agreed, heading for the door. Austin followed behind me, slipping on a pair of vans before we both walked outside into the chilled air.

"Fuck, it's cold." Austin commented, shaking his head as a slight breeze ruffled his brown hair, messed up from sleeping.

"You shoulda brought a jacket," I laughed.

"Alright, mom." Austin joked, shoving me lightly.

"Can you smell it on me?" I asked him, stepping closer to him.

"Hm.. yeah, kinda," he shrugged. "Mark will probably smell it more as he isn't as accustomed to the scent. Hey, if you need me to, I'll take the blame."

"Nah, it's alright. I got this one," I told him, nodding my head. "I'll just say it was a friend of mine who was smoking it."

He laughed. "Your breath smells of it."

"Oh, crap, does it?" I asked, eyes widening as we finally arrived outside of the set of apartments.

"Yeah, um.." Austin searched his pockets for gum or mints, but shrugged his shoulders when he came out with nothing. "Sorry."

"It's fine, I just won't speak," I sighed shakily. "Man, he's gonna be mad if he finds out."

"I can take the blame, y'know," Austin told me, walking beside me as we made our way up the stairs.

"But then Mark will be all like, 'oh, you can't see him again'," I mimicked in a deep voice.

"Would he really? It's not exactly his place to tell you who you can and can't see," Austin said, scratching the back of his neck as Mark's apartment came into view.

"I don't know, maybe. I'm just being paranoid." I sighed, pausing outside of the door, my voice lowered now. "Thanks for walking me back, Austin," I thanked him, throwing my arms around him again in a hug.

He patted my back and chuckled. "Thats alright. Hope Mark doesn't get too mad at you,"

"Yeah, me too." I scoffed, releasing him and smiling weakly. When he left, I turned and unlocked the door and meekly made my way inside.

Mark was at the door almost immediately, looking slightly panicked. When he saw me standing there, he let out a breath of relief and hugged me quickly.

"You've been gone for ages," he pointed out, releasing me. Suddenly, his face scrunched up and I immediately knew why. He'd smelt it on me. However, he didn't say anything. Perhaps he didn't recognize the smell.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm gonna go.." I took a step to the side and gestured toward the bathroom. "Shower?" I said uneasily. Mark huffed.

"Uh.. it's really late, lets talk in the morning," Mark said. "I'm gonna go to bed." He hovered for a while, almost as if he expected me to say that I'd join him, but I stood stiff and silent. He let out a breath before turning and hauling his heavy bones up the stairs tiredly.

I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of guilt pull on my shoulders. I was sick of being guilty. I shook my head and threw my clothes off once I had stepped into the bathroom, and I watched as the spliff Alan had gifted me fell out of the jacket pocket. I plucked it from the floor and examined it before placing it beside the bathroom sink and turning away.

To myself, I smelt like cannabis and shame, and I scrubbed at my skin and thoroughly; I was hoping to remove every trace of it. When I had finished, I dried off and changed into more comfortable clothing, making sure to snatch the spliff and shove it into a drawer in my room. I suddenly stepped out into the hallway, and I reached out to Marks door. I hesitated, and withdrew my arm slowly.

If I was going to heal, I needed time. I shouldn't dive straight into things and just sleep right next to him and expect everything to be perfect - it won't be. Nothing is ever perfect, because perfection doesn't exist, does it?

I stepped away and returned to my room uneasily. I sat on the edge of my bed, toying with my phone and chewing on my lip, keeping back the tears. Currently, I didn't want to be alive. I wanted to melt through the floor and into a pit of cold black nothingness. I wanted death to welcome me with open arms.

In the end, I gave up waiting. I called Bryony's number, knowing that nobody would be there to answer her phone. I lay back on my bed and shut my eyes, sniffing and rubbing my forehead with the back of my hand as I waited for the call to go through. As soon as it reached answerphone, I swallowed and let out a shaky breath.

"Uh, Bryony," I began quietly. "I have nobody to turn to anymore. Well, I guess I do, but..." I trailed off, unable to find the words. "I can't speak to anyone like I could speak to you. I could tell you everything in an instant, without hesitation. You know that it was only a year ago when I stopped drinking so much - when I kinda dealt with my addiction, I mean. And now I'm just basically swapping that addiction for another one, and I don't know why but I just can't help myself-" I choked on my breath and whimpered. "You'd probably smack me upside the head now and tell me to get ahold of myself. I'm being stupid, I know. This is stupid. I'm so desperate I'm talking to.. nothing." I ended it there, feeling a little better now that I had gotten that off of my chest.

I curled into a ball and pulled out a pair of headphones. Tonight, I would be held in the arms of music. Music was basically my free therapy, and, tonight, I felt as if the soothing words of The Amity Affliction's music was sorely needed.

Hey, death. Get fucked.