Markiplier Oneshots

Psychopath: 13 & 14

The sterile smell of antiseptic filled the air as Amy and the others sat quietly in the recovery room, their eyes fixed on Mark. He lay there, pale but alive, the faint rhythm of the heart monitor steadying their nerves. The straps over his limbs remained as a precaution, a reminder of how far he had fallen, but the mouth cover had been removed, leaving only the ghost of the aggression that had once plagued him.

Slowly, Mark stirred. His eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding his gaze. He blinked several times, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings—the bright fluorescent lights, the machines beeping rhythmically, and, most importantly, the faces surrounding him. He squinted, his brow furrowing as he tried to piece together what was happening.

"Mark," Amy whispered, leaning closer. "It's us. We're here."

His gaze flitted from one friend to another, a flicker of recognition dancing in his eyes, but the light faded just as quickly. "Wha—what...?" His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, filled with disorientation and fear.

"Shh, it's okay," Wade said softly, stepping forward. "You're in the hospital. You just had surgery. We're right here with you."

Mark's eyes darted around the room, and he pulled against the straps binding him to the bed. Panic surged in his chest. "No! Let me go! I don't want to be here!"

"Mark, please, just breathe," Jack urged, his voice calm but laced with concern. "You're safe now. You're safe with us."

But Mark's breath quickened, the fear evident in his wide eyes. "I don't understand! I... I can't... I don't want to be here! I want to go home!" His voice rose, tinged with desperation.

"Home?" Amy repeated gently. "You are home. We're all here. You're not alone anymore."

He paused, his breathing still erratic. "But I don't remember..." His voice trailed off, and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to block out the world around him. "I feel... lost."

Tyler took a step closer, but still kept a respectful distance. "It's okay, Mark. You've been through a lot. It's normal to feel confused. Just take it one moment at a time."

Mark opened his eyes again, glancing at each friend in turn. Their faces were a mixture of worry and love, but the connection felt distant, like a hazy memory just out of reach. "I'm scared," he admitted, his voice trembling.

"We know," Amy replied, her heart breaking for him. "But we're here to help you. We're not going anywhere."

He looked at her, the flicker of recognition sparking anew. "Amy?" he whispered, his voice almost cracking.

"Yes, it's me," she affirmed, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm right here. We all are."

As Mark processed her words, his brow creased with concentration. "I... I don't feel like me. Something's wrong." His voice was barely a whisper, filled with confusion and vulnerability.

"It's okay, Mark," Bob reassured him. "You've been through a lot, and it'll take time. You're healing now, and we're here to support you through it."

Mark swallowed hard, a silent battle waging behind his eyes. "Will I... will I be okay?"

"We believe so," Jack said, stepping closer. "The doctors think that once you're fully healed, things will get better. You just need to take it one day at a time."

"I... I want to be better," Mark replied, the heaviness in his voice making it clear how deeply he felt the weight of his situation. "I don't want to feel like this anymore."

Amy reached out, brushing her fingers gently against his hand. "We'll do this together, Mark. You don't have to go through this alone."

He glanced down at their hands, then back at her, searching her face for reassurance. "Promise?"