"Sometimes things become possible if we want them bad enough." -T.S Eliot
Your p.o.v
A slight pain in my arm jolts me awake. The ground beneath me is all I see. Quick pasted footsteps come from behind me. I try to lift myself up, but the sharp pain in my leg and arm stops me. I scream from the pain, trying to get away. The footsteps seem to get faster.
"Are you alright? Let me help you up." A guy's voice fills my ears.
He lifts up my body and grips my arm. I hiss from the sting. He quickly moves his hand off the pain on my arm.
"I'm sorry." He apologizes. His voice deep, and quieter than the first time.
He lifts me into a standing position, but I start to fall again from the pain. He catches me again, carefully. He puts my un-busted arm over his shoulder and walks me to a bench nearby to sit down.
Slowly, he grabs the sleeve of my shirt and pulls it up so he could see the wound. I flinch as the cloth moves off my arm.
"You'll be alright. Don't worry." He coos.
"Thank you." It's the only way I could show my gratitude, and the only words I dare to speak.
I look at the man's face. He has black hair, with red at the top. And soft, brown eyes that could melt anyone's heart. He starts wiping the blood off my arm.
He doesn't have to, he didn't have to help me at all; yet he did. It made me feel warm, and safe inside. But another feeling of fright was floating around in me.
His beautiful brown eyes weren't focused on my arm anymore, but were locked with mine.
I open my eyes and throw myself against the side of my bed; clutching my pillow. My breathing heavily changes pace. But I don't remember what for.
I quickly get up to get ready. I decide a good day of work will make me remember what my mind was going through. Or forget that it happened, whichever comes first will be fine with me.
***
"Y/n! Are you coming?" Cassandra yells from the door.
"Brushing my teeth! Meet you down there!" I reply.
I spit into the bowl and wash out my mouth with water. My mind wanders back to this "Markiplier" person, and the person with the mask. If they are the same person, why does one of them have a mask?
I walk out into the hall. Looking to the stairs, I get nervous once more. The red door blocks my mind from any other thought as I pass it.
"Hi miss. Passing through today?" The new day time receptionist calls.
"I live here m'am. I'm just going to work. Hey, you know that red door upstairs. Who lives there?" She looks confused, and shakes her head.
I point towards the stairs. When I turn back, she's already walking towards the stairs, saying she'll take care of it. I walk out the door, remembering the weird dream again.
YOU ARE READING
Holding On Too Tight (Markiplier x Reader) *Discontinued*
Fanfiction"I think the only reason people hold onto memories so tight, for so long, is because memories are the only things that don't change, even when people do." -Unknown "Someone long ago said, "Remember little friend. Hold on tight." I guess we took it t...
