Mark (Markiplier)
I wasn’t particularly sure which quarantine zone was the closest, and I didn’t know if I was prepared to leave so suddenly. I had tried calling up other family members and friends, but the line just went dead.
The electricity has been out for about… three hours now, so I haven’t had any time to do research on this… outbreak. From what little I had heard, things were starting to get real bad.
I was stuck in the house until further notice. I had been out on the streets a few times, which were deserted, but I was too afraid to knock on anybody’s door in case they were infected or in the same situation that I was. You don’t know what killing a guy, infected or not, can do to you. I just hope the feeling wears off, even if I know it won’t. I just ended my own brother’s life, it’s not something you can just let go.
I stare blankly ahead at the pale, grey wallpaper a few inches in front of me. In anger and, I guess, hysteria, I had thrown a vase at the wall and watched as the water and red flower petals dripped down slowly, just like blood would have done.
I place my hand on the wall and push myself away from it, forcing my puppet-like limbs to obey my orders. I forcefully turn myself around and avoid looking down at the red-stained carpet – my brother had died not far from here. I mean, I had killed my brother not far from here. His blood must have seeped out and leaked this far.
My thoughts swam to the faces of those I had spoken with recently – Felix and Ken. Where they both still in the area? Surely at some point, when we are probably all evacuated to some sort of zone, we would meet up again. I hope nothing happened to them and their partners.
The one thing I really, really wanted right now, was to be able to call my mother, even it were to be for the last time. I just wanted to hear her voice, to let her know about my brother. To let her know that, for now, I am alright. I’m alive. But is she?
I knew one thing that would calm me down, but, with the electricity down, it wasn’t possible right now. Focusing on something as simple as gaming or even just recording a short video would ease me, but I wasn’t prepared to show my face anytime soon. I can still see the blood on my hands, even if I washed it down the sink.
I find my body acting without me thinking, and I am outside in the cool evening air as a scream pierces through the air and slices the silence open, letting the sound flood through the night. Another scream follows, and I soon find that it isn’t just one person. With one glance down the street, I see a whole mob. What’re they running from?
I find a burning temptation to run back into my house and grab my stuff, as all I have on me is my wallet and my knife. I don’t know why I held onto it, but I guess it was just a safety precaution in case one of things decided to storm into my house. But, instead of rushing back into the house and hiding like a coward, I let myself get swallowed up by the mob and my legs run by themselves, my head not daring to turn to let my eyes see whatever the hell it is that they’re – I mean, we’re – running from.
People begin to spill out onto the streets like honey: slowly but surely. One person holds a crying child, one with various wounds scattered over their body, in their arms, and I refuse to let myself be a hero. Right now, everybody is in danger. Helping one person won’t even make a dent in helping any of the people who are dying and those who are in the same situation as I am. Besides, you don’t see anybody helping me, do you?
