Lost (Mark/Darkiplier X Reader)

Chapter 29

(A/N: Umm, so this chapter is going to be really sad, so I'm sorry about that, but I just wanted to let you know that this chapter could be triggering to some people, so please read with caution. I don't want to be the cause if this brings up some bad memories. Because I know it did for me. I care about you guys too much. <3 you! On with the (sad) story!)

I have been watching a lot of Mark's videos lately. Sometimes I wonder how he stays so happy all of the time. If YouTube was my job, I would have days where I can't do anything. I would be too sad or too upset about something to turn on a camera and act like everything is okay. I'm not fit for YouTube and I never will be.

Lately, I had been reading the comments on his videos. 'Where is that girl you showed us before?' 'I want to see (Y/N) again.' 'Was (Y/N) just a one night stand? Classy, Mark.' The good thing is people don't know that I dated him. So it could be possible for me to show my face again as friends.

Wouldn't things be awkward though? At least a million people would be watching a couple, used to be couple, play a game. The invisible tension between us would be horrifying. Neither of us want to talk about anything, and we won't.

Tears come to my eyes as I think about him. His laugh, his smile, his voice telling me that he loves me. It all seemed so perfect. My phone projected his voice as I cried. Mark was recording something so I assumed that he wouldn't hear me. Damn you, (Y/N), why do you still care about him? Why have I been causing so many problems and changing people's lives for the worse? I don't even know anymore.

After half an hour of crying I became sick of it. Sick of the pain and torture that I have endured. I want it to end. I want the pain to end. Take it away, take it all away.

I opened my door from my room casually hoping that no one would hear it. My feet walked me over to the kitchen where I was presented with lots of kitchen knives. Hmm, which one do I pick? I found one that was about medium in size, but still sharp like it hasn't been used very much. I held it in my hand as I went back into my room.

Take the pain away. I cried salty tears as I looked at the knife. "Hello, friend." I spoke to it like it was a real, living, thing. My right hand gripped it tightly as I clenched my left hand and turned it over so my wrist faced me. Memories of my past flooded over me. I used to be fourteen, sitting in my bedroom crying my heart out. I used a scissors and would cut myself repeatedly. It felt good and I couldn't stop. It became my new addiction.

I'm in the same spot that I was when I was fourteen. Today, I make the addiction start. I create pain, but it feels good. Blood is my new friend that will always be here for me. And I will always appreciate it.

"Ouch," I muttered in pain as I felt the blade run against my wrist. I did it again, and again. Eventually there was a stream of blood running down my arm. It was my accomplishment. My new cuts were set right next to my old scars. I deserve every ounce of this. I'm not worthy of this world.

I went around and found every single pill bottle in the house. Mark sure had a lot of medication laying around. I'm sure if I took all of this I would be gone. Right? Well, I guess there is only one way to find out.

I opened up the cap to the first batch of pills. It looked like a lot of them were put into the small orange container. Here I come God, I'm ready to meet you.

1, 2, 3 pills went down my throat. I fucking hate taking pills with a passion, but it is what had to be done. I was doing the world a favor. I am making this a better place. 5, 10, 15 pills. I need more, and more.

The first bottle was empty. Why hasn't it done anything yet? "Stupid pills!" I screamed as I threw the bottle against the wall. It made a loud noise against the door.

Unexpectedly, the door flew open and Mark stood there, looking at me. He saw the knife that was resting on the bed. He saw the abundance of pill bottle that lay before me. "(Y/N)," he spoke softly. His eyes started to become more wet.

"I'm doing you a favor. It's not like you care about me." I spoke through my constant tears that would never end. I opened up the next bottle and tried to choke down as many pills as I could. Mark saw what I was doing and rushed over to me. He smacked the bottle out of my hand and pushed me onto the ground with his strong arms. "Ouch!" I screamed. He pinned me to the ground by my wrists, getting blood all over his one hand due to my previous actions. He saw the blood and tears ran down his face.

I kicked and screamed for help. I was being held hostage by my ex boyfriend. Mark was stronger than me and he held me down tight. He tried his hardest to pull out his phone while keeping me pinned to the ground. Somehow he managed to get his phone out of his pocket and I saw him dial 911. "No!' I screamed. I didn't want police to come. I didn't want to go in an ambulance. I wanted to be gone.

"Why?" Mark asked me not bothering to talk to the phone operator. He knew as long as they were called, they would come.

"You don't love me! I'm useless to the world. I wanted to make you happy!" I screamed. I wanted to meet God and dance in heaven with the angels.

"Please say you didn't take too much." Mark pleaded. His tears were apparent and he could wile them away because his hands were being occupied. "I want you to stay (Y/N), I still love you! I never stopped loving you! I was just upset that you loved Dark. I was miserable without you. I want you back. I want (Y/N) back."

Mark held me as we both cried. There was a knock placed on the entrance to our home. "It's unlocked!" Mark had to yell form the bedroom. Police stormed in everywhere. They saw the bottles and the knife. They took Mark off of me and immediately placed him in handcuffs for no apparent reason. I ran after the bottles in the bed, but the cops were faster. I was handcuffed also. The officer saw the blood on my wrist and started to price everything together.

"What's going on?" One police officer asked. Mark explained everything in great detail. The officer told us an ambulance was on their way so they could take me to the hospital. Mark's handcuffs were taken off of his because he didn't commit any crime. As for me, I had to stay in them for 'my own safety' said one of the officers.

The ambulance arrived and I was placed inside. Mark came along with me to the hospital. He was still crying. "What did I do wrong?" He whispered to himself.

"Been here many times before." Sia - Breathe Me