Markiplier X Reader

Prologue - (Y/N)

~~July 2015~~

I inhale and hold my breath for as long as I can before coughing harder than I ever have before. "No worries (y/n), that just means it's good weed," says Alex. I don't know why I let him talk me into smoking with him. I've never smoked before and I've never really wanted to, anyway.

When I stop coughing, I start to understand why people smoke. My mind feels a little foggy, as if the smoke made its way into my brain to hide all my troubles. I look at Alex and suddenly his face is very funny. I laugh harder and louder than I probably should. He shushes me, giggling manically himself and I quiet myself to a soft chuckle.

I take another hit from his purple and pink bowl, covering the hole in the back like he showed me. This time it's easier to hold my breath and I don't cough quite as much. I feel almost out of body, but not like I expected.

Alex pulls out a bag of chips and takes a handful for himself before handing me the bag. Man I didn't realize how hungry I am, I think to myself. I eat the salted potato chips and feel at peace.

The peace doesn't last long.

After about fifteen minutes of eating and smoking my mom storms in. "(Y/N), what the hell is that smell?" she asks, hands on her hips. I giggle, knowing that I shouldn't but unable to help myself.

"It's nothing, mom. Alex just hasn't showered in a while," I joke between chips. Alex bursts into a fit of laughter and I can't help but laugh with him. This whole situation isn't as scary as I thought it would be.

"Out," Mom says. I guess I should take this situation a little more seriously. I suddenly don't feel so foggy anymore.

"What?" I'm shocked. "What do you mean out? This is my room."

"No. This was your room. You know your father and I are against drugs. You knew the consequences of smoking. Now get out!" She yells.

Alex angrily stands and states, "Weed is not a drug Mrs. (L/N)." That earns him a hard slap from my mom.

The rest is a bit of a blur. I pack some clothes into a duffel bag, enough for a few days of sleeping over at Alex's house. This'll blow over soon, I think. I never thought they would actually kick me out for smoking pot.

It doesn't blow over.

~~January 2017~~

My parents never let me come back home. They said I wasn't their daughter anymore. "We just don't know who you've turned into," my dad had said blankly.

Alex eventually kicked me out too. I refused to smoke or leave the house. I refused to do anything, really. The only thing I did was steal razors and manual pencil sharpeners, taking the blades out of them and using them all over my own body. He tried taking them from me, but I wouldn't let him. I always had two or three on me, and one day I sliced his hand open when he tried to take them from me.

Since then I've been on the streets of L.A. It's not as hard as it may seem. I spend most of the day sitting on the sidewalk with a can that I found in a dumpster. People normally give me a couple quarters as they walk by. At the end of the day I have a few dollars to buy myself some food.

Sometimes I pick up odd jobs. I mowed an old lady's lawn once and made a hundred dollars. I treated myself to a couple large boxes of tampons and soap and shampoo to use in the park's public bathroom. I used the rest to stock up on food.

Unfortunately, I'm running low on supplies, I can't find any jobs, and it's the middle of winter. It doesn't get that cold in LA, but it does get chilly enough to need a jacket every once in a while. Especially when it rains.

I don't have a jacket and I haven't had enough money to buy a decent one that will keep my dry when it rains. So I settle for going into a coffee shop called Joe's Java and treating myself to a nice hot cup of coffee using some of the quarters I earn until storms blow over. The owner is nice enough to discount my coffee and let me stay in the shop all day until close. I continue this routine for a couple weeks. But one day, something changes.