Who Killed Markiplier?

Chapter 2

You awoke to a loud ringing. God, too loud. Way too loud. Without opening your eyes, you started hitting around your nightstand until you hit whatever made the ringing stop. It was Saturday. You didn't have work. You could just burrow back into your covers and forget about the world... wait a minute. You sat up quickly and groaned. Everything hurt. Slowly opening your eyes, you took in your surroundings. Too bright. Too early.

...This wasn't your house.

You were scared for a second before flashes of memories from last night flooded into your head. Friends. Poker. Drinking. Guns? You squeezed your eyes shut again. You may have kicked ass at poker, but you had gotten your ass kicked by the alcohol.

Rubbing your face, you pulled the covers back and stood up. You acknowledged that you were wearing sweatpants and a loose t-shirt that weren't yours, but you couldn't find it in you to care. You trudged into the bathroom and splashed water on your face before fighting down your rats nest hair. Despite the the dark circles under your eyes and the clothes you were wearing, you were somewhat presentable. Somewhat satisfied with your appearance, you set off in search of coffee and breakfast.

Of course, the second you left your room, the butler was there waiting for you.

"Ah, good morning! I hope you had a good night's rest. I've prepared for you some coffee and a glass of water for these headache pills. I hope you enjoyed your night, and I hope you feel better soon." He offered you the pills and the water first, then the mug of coffee.

"Thank you so much, Mr..." You felt bad that you had never asked his name.

"Please, call me Benjamin."

"Thank you so much, Ben. You're a lifesaver."

"It is my job, Ms. (L/n)," he said with a wink before taking the tray and the empty water cup and walking away down the hallway and disappearing into another room. What a guy.

You turned back to the stairs to see Damien standing at the railing. He must have heard your footsteps, because he turned around.

"Ah, there's our little monster! You really knocked 'em dead last night. I haven't seen you go wild like that since our days at University. Good to let the beast out every once in a while, eh, old friend?" He smiled at you. He would have looked amazing with the light shining in behind him if it didn't hurt so much. The medicine hadn't kicked in yet. You squinted to see him.

"Good morning, Damien. You're a sight for sore eyes. Literally, this light is killing me."

"Oh, of course." He grabbed your coffee-free hand and turned you so your back was against the railing and he was glaring into the light instead. He hesitated before letting go. "Better?" He asked.

"Much." You responded. You could feel the warmth of where his hand had been.

He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I'm still not sure what we're here celebrating, exactly. I mean, it's good to be with friends, but out of the blue like this seems... I mean, now is not the time to become conspiratorial. Life is ours to choose, as I always say! Now, I have some work to finish, but I'll meet you at breakfast. We'll all catch up soon."

Before he could go, a thought struck you. "Hey, Damien!" He turned back toward you. "Where did I get these clothes? I know they're not mine."

"Ah, I gave them to you last night during the... festivities. I know how much you cared about that dress and I didn't want it to get ruined. I left it hanging in your room. I hope that was alright?" He smiled awkwardly.

"Of course, thank you so much!"

He looked like he was going to say more. Instead he nodded with another awkward smile, then walked off down the hallway into what you assumed was an office of some sort. You watched him go.

Damien was a good man. He had been your friend for as long as you could remember, and you trusted him with your life. He also looked pretty damn good in a suit.

Shaking your head, you made your way down the stairs. A big, greasy breakfast sounded fantastic. You had heard they helped with hangovers. Walking through the living room, you were so lost in thought about Damien and breakfast that you didn't even notice the lump on the ground until you almost tripped over it. After you caught yourself on the corner of the couch, you turned to see what your foot had hit.

It took a couple of seconds for the realization to sink in. When it did, you screamed. Immediately, the other man that you hadn't really met yet charged into the room to see if you were okay. He froze when he saw it.

Mark was dead.

[Sorry about the short chapter, I promise the next one will be longer.]