Markiplier X Reader

4 - Sticks, Stones, and Corpses

 After the tape has run out of film, I continue to stare wordlessly at the screen in both shock and horror. Those people, we're they real? I mean, this is some sort of reenactment of the game, right? Maybe even a conscious simulation of sorts, if the former though, were those people actors?

"They looked too real. It looked too real..." I breathe in disbelief, my eyes still glues to the screen.

"It can't have been though, right? I mean, that was exactly what went down in the game, I can remember that much. It would have been too much of a coincidence, right? It can't have been real." Mark tries in hopes of calming me and most probably himself as well.

"Yeah... They couldn't have gone word-for-word otherwise after all. They've gotta be acting..." I try on top of his argument.

Mark simply hums in agreement and deep thought. I stay within my head for a moment more as well before I suggest something I hope is much to far-fetched to be true.

"But... Towards the beginning, it looked so much more staged than the end, did you see? Could it even be remotely possible that they were only given the first half of the script? I don't wanna sound like I'm capable of something like this, but... if it were me, I'd wanna make it as real as possible. Give them the first half of the script and ask them to wing it after a certain point. That's where you start killing them off..."

A shiver races the length of my spine and I rip my hands towards the flesh of my arms, my skin raising with goose-bumps at just the mere thought.

"That'd mean..." Mark trails off.

"That we just watched those men die..." I conclude for him. "I mean, I could be overthinking it. I did film study, I could just be too in my head about it, I don't know."

"It's possible though, right? I know what you were saying about it seeming much more like acting toward the beginning."

This time it's me humming in acknowledgement.

"Look... I think... I think we just need to keep going. We've gotta forget about them for now. Whether or not that was staged or otherwise isn't going to effect how we play this game... it just means we'll probably experience some hell through nightmares once we make it out of here," Mark says having me nod in understanding.

"Okay... Yeah, okay. Let's keep going."

The somewhat lighthearted atmosphere we'd been trying to create before hand has pretty much diminished completely now, a heavy-set fog of fear and thought settling atop us as we push ourselves away from the TV. Mark takes the tape and stores it away before we do.

Mark and I both walk slowly towards the trap door within the wall I opened up for us a few moments prior. The memory of the other men passing through the same door still fresh in our minds. I stand stuck for a bit just staring towards the door. I jolt suddenly when Mark's hand falls against my shoulder.

"Hey," he says as he coaxes me to turn and face him. "We're in this together, remember? You said it yourself. We're gamers with killer-horror-gamer instincts, and we can do this... do you want me to go through first?"

I smile towards him with soft appreciation before shaking my head no.

"It's okay, I'm okay... You're right, and I'll be fine. We'll be fine."

I move from Mark's grasp and kneel against the littered floor before crawling my way through the hatch.

The room I crawl into is still, dusty, and looks as though it's been untouched, much like the rest of the house, for a long, long time. I stand and brush off the front of my jeans before aiming my torch toward the hatch for Mark to pull himself through hot on my heels. Once he's though, the to of us move towards the ladder, cockroaches skittering away from the light.