The YouTuber whose fans disappeared

Repeat

Mark lifted himself up. His head was pounding, he rubbed his temples and swung his legs out his bed. He stood up and looked towards his balcony, 'there's a storm coming' he thought. He let out a sigh and sat back down and continued to rub his head. He pulled out his phone. He would call Wade. Maybe he could give him some advice; '2 and a half million people can't just disappear?' He muttered.

He looked at his phone and swiped to unlock it, he noticed a small stain on the bottom. On closer inspection he realised what it was, 'Blood? How did -' he shuck his head and wiped it off with the bottom of his shirt, as he did he saw more. 'What happened? Where did it come from?' Just as those thoughts raced through his head, an wave of nausea passed over him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten, or drank for that matter. He put his head in his hands, desperately trying not to puke. He pulled his hands away as his did he saw a scab on the palm of his hand. He stared at it for a second,before running his thumb gently across the top. As his thumb grazed the top of the wound, something flashed across Marks mind. He saw his door, smashed and blood coming from his hand.

'I broke the door?'

Mark looked at his door. It was perfect. He walked over and moved his palm across the cold wood. No splinters. No fractures. Nothing. He felt for the handle.

Locked.

'No. No, no, no! Shit.' He began to panic. More and more flashes passed through his brain. He's broke his door. His patio was locked. Thick, black smog was slowly cascading towards him. His phone was broken. It was Friday 13th. He jumped up and checked his computer, and there it was. FRIDAY 13TH JUNE.

He had no idea what was happening. But it was clear that things weren't simple. He was a prisoner in his own room. And even if he got out. It was repeated. The fans hadn't disappeared. He had. As the realisation dawned on him he began to cry. He wasn't sure if it was fear or frustration, but he couldn't stop. He sat at his computer, turned on his camera and spoke. No lighting. No thumbnail made. Nothing special. Just him and the camera.

'Hello everybody. My name is Markiplier and I don't know how many of you, if any will see this, but I have to try. I can't just sit here and do nothing. I have to try. I have to have hope.' Mark began to get chocked. Never before had he wanted reassurance from his fans. Never before had he felt so alone. He wiped the tears off his face, and tried his best to talk. 'Youve all been my heroes for so long. You've saved me more times than I can imagine. Please, please don't give up on me. Please never loose faith.' He took a deep breathe 'I love you all so much. No matter what people say, or do, keep believing. Have hope...'

His camera turned off. 'Shit' he threw his camera across the room and stood up violently flipping his chair as he did. But something was wrong, he didn't hear the camera drop or break. He turned around and saw Warfstache standing across the room. It all flooded back, mark remembered everything. But he couldn't say anything, he didn't know what to say in truth. The uncomfortable silence was eventually broken by Warfstache.

'That was. Well, adorable' he laughed. He held the camera in his hand, he replayed it, Marks heartfelt words now background noise. '...if not a bit. Well..needy' He sat on the edge of Marks bed. His voice was slow and deep, gravelly and soothing yet a sinister tone lay underneath. He looked up at Mark who was still stood frozen next to his computer and now broken chair. 'Shame they'll never see it' Warfstache placed the camera under his foot and smashed it, locking eyes with Mark and not blinking as he did it.

Mark winced, like the stamp had been on him. 'Wha-. What do you want?'

'He speaks!' Warfstache stands up, Mark edging back as he did. 'Im here to fix you.' He walks over to mark, who was now flat against the wall. Warfstache was now stood inches from

marks face. Mark could smell his rancid breathed but he dared not move.

'Time for change...' Warfstache whispered with a smile. 'Your time is up.'

Mark couldn't move. He couldn't talk. He couldn't do anything. His breathes became short and sharp. He's played hundreds of horror games in his career, but now he was tasting real fear for the first time.