since eighth grade. → markiplier

Chapter Fifty-Four: Identity Disorder

Chapter Fifty-Four: Identity Disorder

Sorry that this chapter is kinda short. I'll make it up to you guys in the next chapter, I promise!:D

Ellie

It'd been a week since I had smoked with Alan and Austin. I couldn't get the thought of smoking out of my head - it was clawing at my skull. I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned, unable to find comfort amongst the cold, lonely sheets. Eventually, I threw the covers off of my body and swung my legs out of bed, hesitating only for a moment before standing up and throwing on an Of Mice & Men hoodie. I paused and chewed on my lip, and rushed over to my drawer to snatch the spliff. I had only recently come down from the drug, and it made the feeling of guilt and everything else so much worse. I needed the high again.

From here, I could hear the faint sound of Mark snoring and mumbling in his sleep. My chest constricted and my heart pounded, but I ignored the sensation and made my way downstairs. Despite the fact that I had gotten up and moved around, I only felt more isolated as I was now further away from Mark. I shook my head and pulled the hem of my hoodie down a little, walking over and slumping down on the couch. I pulled my knees up to my chest and gazed out across the room, tired of the feeling that was gnawing away at my insides.

I suddenly burst into tears, even though there was no specific reason as to why I was crying. It was as if my emotions had been struck by lightening. Sherlock padded quietly across the carpet until jumping up on the sofa beside me and nudging me softly, almost as if he could sense he distess.

I lit the spliff and took a drag. My cries didn't subside, though, despite how happy this was supposed to make me feel.

Mark

A cry awoke me from my slumber. It was so full of emotional pain that it instantly caused me to frown in concern, even though my tiredness caused everything to be processed much slower. Despite my exhaustion, I fumbled around on my bedside table until I found my glasses, where I then pushed them on and groaned as I rolled out of the comfortable bed.

I tried to make my way quietly downstairs, but I froze in place when I noticed that Ellie was sat there, her shoulders shaking as she cried. Sherlock sat silently next to her, gazing across at her dishevelled form with a somewhat sad expression, his tail waving slowly. Suddenly, a burst of smoke came from where Ellie was sitting, and it was only then I realized that a roll was hanging from her mouth. My eyes widened in shock at the sight, and it felt as if ice blocks had frozen my feet in place.

Shaking off the feeling, I slowly made my way down the stairs, not really bothering to stay quiet this time. Not that it mattered - the sound of my footsteps were drowned out by Elliot's sobs and whimpers. I sat down next to her, causing her to tense up and freeze in place, where the spliff was locked between her lips. She looked across at me, her nose and eyes red and swollen, her cheeks stained with tears.

She took the spliff out of her mouth. "Mark, I'm so sorry," she choked out.

"Are you?" I sighed heavily, glancing down at it in her hands. It had burnt out, and she would have to relight it if she was going to finish it off. "Is this what you do now? Is this just another way of getting to me, or something?" I asked snappily, knowing that I was being irrational. Her chin wobbled, and she dropped the cannabis onto the coffee table, where flecks of burnt paper and leaves scattered around it.

"Of course not," Elliot told me, glancing down at her shaking hands in her lap. "I'm not like that, Mark-"

"Then what are you like, Elliot?" I questioned. "I don't even know you anymore. You've changed."

"I'm still the same person," she protested. "It just makes me happy."

My heart sunk. "What about me?"

"What?" Elliot asked, unsure as to what I meant.

"Don't I make you happy?" I asked her, where she continued to silently stare at her lap. "Look at me, Elliot. I want an honest answer."

She lifted her head timidly and glanced at me. "Nothing really makes me happy anymore," Ellie sighed. "Alcohol used to be what I turned to, but now I've basically swapped one addiction for another."

"You don't have to do this, y'know," I told her quietly, reaching out and placing a firm hand on her shaking ones. "You can get help-"

She yanked her hands away from me. "I'm not depressed, Mark," she shivered. "I'm just grieving."

"And you think this is a good way of dealing with your grief?" I asked her, pushing aside the hurt I felt.

"Well, it works." She said bitterly.

"For a short while," I pointed out, knowing the effects of drugs. "You gotta feel pretty shitty afterwards, right?"

"So what? At least it makes me feel good," she snapped.

Ouch. "Right. Okay," I shook my head. "I'm taking this from you," I decided, snatching the doobie from the table and crushing it in my fist. She visibly winced, but I ignored it. "You want to feel good?"

"Uh, Mark-" Elliot stopped herself and began chewing on her lip, her cheeks suddenly a deep shade of pink. I walked over to her and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"You get clean of drugs.." I began with a sigh. "And I'll make sure you feel good." I said, lowering my voice. I felt her shiver in my arms, and I released her and made my way towards the bathroom where I wrapped up the crushed doobie in tissue paper and flushed it down.

Ellie

But what if I don't want to get clean of drugs?