Realism Mode *Enabled* {Markiplier x Reader}

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I wasn't feeling it when I started this chapter, so the first part (your reaction to what happens more specifically) may not be as accurate as it should be.

After getting home from work, you found Shayne's room all cleared out. He had told you that morning he was going to leave. You were surprised he managed to do it in 7 hours.

You found a good book to settle down and read. It was what you'd been doing a lot lately, either that or going to see Mark. It was efficient in keeping your mind off your parents until it was confirmed they had left and brought Paul with them.

Hearing the front door open and slam shut, you arched your eyebrows. Did (B/F) have a bad day? But when she entered, you nearly screamed. She carried an axe covered in what had to be blood along with a blood stained outfit. She didn't react to your shock, only went to grab the TV remote and turn it on, flipping channels until she came across a news network.

"What did you do?" You demanded, pushing your book off to the side as you stared at her.

"My job," she answered simply, watching the news intently.

"Did you kill someone?" You were internally freaking out, but who wouldn't be when they suspected their best friend had just murdered somebody?

"Just watch," she responded. You decided to listen, but you didn't let your guard down. Who's to say she won't turn that glistening double-edged blade on you? You were really ok with not dealing with this stress on top of your parents drama, but you wouldn't know what happened unless you stayed here.

"A new victim has been identified as Sharren Keys with her head chopped off by what experts say was an axe," the woman on TV look disgusted. "She was spotted not too long ago when a man found her body and called the cops. This has been the eighth attack like this in the past month. For those of you watching, we urge you to stay in your homes and not hesitate to call 911 if you think someone is being attacked."

(B/F) was wearing a grin, feeling accomplished, while you were mortified. "They still haven't found a single clue," she commented. You had no clue how to react, so you dialed Mark's number and called him. He picked up, but his words were rushed.

"Hey (Y/N), can this wait?" You heard females in the background shouting his name. Fangirls.

"I'm not sure," you mumbled.

"What's wrong?" He sounded worried.

"Who are you talking to?" A girl asked.

"Probably some slut," another said, the phone just barely picking up her words.

"She's not a-" Mark was cut off by random noises, making it sound like someone stole his phone from him.

"It's (Y/N) (L/N)," a jealous voice said loud and clear. She must've seen your name on the screen.

"I'll call you back later Mark!" You shouted, hoping he'd hear it, then ended the call. So you resorted to your next option: getting out of there. As crazy as it sounds, you didn't want to be in a room with a killer, even if that killer was (B/F).

Before you could reach the front door, you were stopped by (B/F). She left her axe in the living room so as not to scare you more, but in all honesty it didn't stop you from eyeing her with distrust. She snatched your phone out of your hands, making your grab for it but she held you back with her other hand.

Suddenly, your phone started ringing, and you both looked to see it was your parents. "Please, let me answer that," you begged.

"No, not until you hear me out," she shook her head.

"You won't finish in time!" You cried, staring at the phone with a look of repressed fear. You didn't want to answer it, but if you didn't you knew you'd get kicked in the rear for it later.

"(Y/N) listen, eyes over here," you struggled to look away from the phone, but when you did, she nodded in approval. "You told me I needed a job, so I went looking for one. I stumbled across some sketchy guy's that'd hire me to kill someone and give me a large sum of money to do it. I'm fascinated with death, I always have been, so I sorta accepted. Apparently I did such a good job that they hired me to work for them, and since then I've just killed who they wanted me to."

"(B/F), do you even realize what you're doing? You're ending someone's life just cause they want you to, that isn't right!"

"But it pays the bills."

"Not an excuse! That person had a life, a family, friends, maybe a loved one, maybe pets, they were living. You can't just take that away from them because someone told you to."

"I'm told they're criminals."

"But what if they're not?"

She considered your statement. "I know you don't like it, but I promise I'm doing it for the right reasons. I always get a file of who the person is before I kill them, and the proof is right there."

"It isn't your job to take someone's life like that!"

"Actually, it is," she murmured.

"What if you get assigned to kill me? Will the words on the page convince you I've done something I should get killed for?" Your scared expression was forming a glare.

"No, never," she shook her head rapidly. "I would never hurt you, or Shayne, or Mark, or Cosette, or James. I wouldn't do that to any of you guys."

"I'm not so sure about that." You shot her a fierce glare and made a grab for your phone, this time succeeding because of the shock she felt. How could you be so sure she wouldn't? What if she became addicted to death and when it finally came to killing one of you, she didn't even hesitate?

"I would never," she swallowed, "hurt any of you." She seemed like she was about to cry, but you showed no emotion. "Look, how about you join me on my next murder tonight and I can show you what it's like? I'll show you the proof I have justifying their killing." You weren't going to do anything of the sort any time soon.

"I've got to go to work tomorrow," you shook your head. She sighed but nodded.

"Alright." She headed back into the living room to get her weapon, and as you stared at her while she left, she looked back. "I promise, I will never hurt you."

"That wasn't red dye on your shirts, was it," you said with no emotion.

"No." Your phone rang again and you looked at it to see your parents were calling again. With a large intake of breath to steel yourself, you hit answer.

"Why didn't you answer your phone last time we called?" Your mother immediately shouted.

"It wasn't next to me," you replied.

"Then next time make sure it's next to you."

"Yes madame."

"And pack your bags, we're coming to bring you home."

"What?" You shouted.

"Don't raise your voice!" She scolded. "And yes, we both thought you should come back home with us. Living on your own has influenced your mind in a way in which it shouldn't be, so we think it suitable you come back under our roof. We're coming over in an hour, so pack up and get ready."

Your eyes were wide and frantic. "But-"

"No buts (Y/N)." Then the call ended.