The Scream Behind The Screen {Markiplier X Abused Reader} [First Draft]

MisQuoted

Mark strummed his guitar, as did I.

We played an old song I wrote before I was taken. When the last notes faded, we set our guitars aside.

"I played that for my mom when I learned it a few years back." He leaned over the bed, resting his head next to my feet. "She loved it."

"I'm honored that she does." My fingers ran through his hair.

These past few months, give or take, Mark has been patient, like he has finally calmed down. It made me be at ease for awhile.

"I told her what happened to your parents."

My hand froze, my eyes widened and my heart missed a beat.

"Really?" I did everything to keep my voice level. "What did she say?"

He straightened, a slight smirk raised. "You misquoted the excerpt from a book."

"I don't know what you mean." I placed the guitar back in my lap, ready to play again. "I've really improved."

No matter what I did, I shook. My voice. My hands. Even my feet.

His hand gently overlapped mine, influencing my eyes meet his.

They're kind eyes, warm, soft, very inviting.

"You don't have to tell me what really happened. When you're ready, I'm here." He smiled a bit.

I averted my gaze,"Thanks, Mark, but I don't want you to worry..."

"Either way, I worry." He said, taking his guitar in hand. "I really care. Anyone who really cares or loves are the same ones who worries."

"But... I..."

For some reason, I couldn't get the words out. How can I describe my feelings about how my parents really were?

I couldn't find the right words.

He just grinned, pushing some rogue hair back into place behind my ear. "It's okay if you don't have the right words right now."

"But you deserve an explanation!"

"Tell me when you are out of the hospital and feeling like yourself."

"I'm already feeling like myself!"

He stood up, placing his guitar in the black case, slinging it over his shoulder, his eyes became warmer. "I meant when you're healed with your injuries and heartache."

I hung my head. "I'm sorry..."

He let his hand fall on my head. "Don't worry about anything right now. Heal up first." Roughing up my hair, he continued. "I gotta go help Adda and Jack with shopping. I'll come back and visit you."

Watching him walk out the door, a thought popped into my head.

What am I physically healing from?

I've been here for awhile... But what's damaged?

I glanced at my guitar.

Hey, Ella? If you can, will you teach me how to play?

Hm? Oh! Of course! I'm learning a nice song right now. It reminds me of you and how gentle you can be.

What do you mean by that?

Even so you've been hurt so badly, you're kind and you still love.

What does that have to do with guitars?