He had no idea what was going on. All he could remember was waking up in a white room, with nothing but a light overhead occupying the room, except for him. Because of science, the light that radiated off the bright, white light was bouncing off the walls, reflecting off and hitting his eyes like a wall of pure white sunlight, stinging his eyes. He didn't know where he was, but didn't want to know either.

"H…Hello?" He called out. No response. Just as he let out the "O" part, he realised something.

"My… My breathing… WHY-HOW AM I NOT BREATHING?" He yelled as he put his hand towards his throat, wondering what the hell is going on. "Where am I? A-a-a-am I DEAD?"

All he got was his own voice echoing back to him, seemingly acting as the only company he will ever have in this white room.

He pressed both his knees up to his eyes as he struggled to accept the reality of possibly being trapped in this white prison for the rest of eternity.

"No…" He thought.

"No…"

Meanwhile...

Silence. That's all Mark can hear for now. Just dead silence as he walked through the halls of wherever the hell he is. He had no idea where he was, but felt like that he was transported into a horror game. The walls were covered by an old, but antique blue wallpaper with exotic gold and fine patterns, but the colour turned greyish in some areas with age. This place possibly wasn't inhabited for ages. In fact, it was so old, the floor was creaky and loud with age, groaning every time Mark took a step. It was dark, but the torch he had in his right hand was enough to provide light for him to see a few feet ahead of him. Paranoia grew as he walked deeper and deeper into the maze, as his imagination ran wild over what could he hiding in the shadows, ready to strike any second and he'll be dinner. He shook his head. "No, Markiplier." He thought. "That's babyish, you're 27 now, not a baby." He reassured himself, but still, figments of what's left of that paranoia still toys with his brain.

Just as he thought that he was safe, something started vibrating in his pocket, and the second afterwards, a short, bell like ringtone broke the silence, startling him. Someone just texted him.

He yanked his iPhone out of his pocket, paranoia surging fear through his veins once again, and pressed the menu button, turning it on.

Unknown number.

Run.

His heart dropped at that moment as he stared at the glowing screen just big enough to fit in his palm. It felt like he was looking death right in the eye.

He snapped into a fight or flight response as he heard laughter in the distance. It wasn't the good kind, more like evil, sadistic laughter that belongs to a serial killer.

"FOUND YOU!" The voice was male, and sounded like it belonged to a man in his twenties. It was oddly familiar. Mark yanked his head behind him, catching sight of red, glowing orbs floating in midair. He shone his torch in that direction, and saw a man, about 20 years old, dirty blond hair and unkept beard with a gigantic and insane smirk on his face staring at him in the darkness. Oddly familiar. Mark almost fainted. As soon as the man took off speeding towards Mark, so did he, the groans of the floorboards underneath his feet speeding up as two pairs of feet started torturing the wooden planks. Mark shot through the corridors, swallowing a scream as he fled in fear for his life as insane amounts of adrenaline surged through his veins like the water jets of a blastoise. He didn't dare to look behind him, but when he looked ahead of him, his heart dropped.

Dead end.

Mark swore under his breath as he turned pale as the moon when he saw the wall trapping him between that demon, sealing his fate. The footsteps behind him stopped, and Mark turned around. There he was, standing there, smirking an evil smirk.

"Nice meeting you. Now it's time to die."

The moment he had those glowing red eyes shoot up at his face, Mark's eyes shot open.

"Was… Was that a dream?" He said out loud. Of course, it was apparent that it was a dream, he was in bed, snug as a bug in a rug, and the digital clock right beside him read: 3:41

"Okay, I need serious help, that was the third nightmare I've had in a week." He said, lying back down and closing his eyes as he tried to get to sleep.

What bothered him was the identity of the man who chased him, and why he seemed so familiar. After all, a person never forgets another persons face, and that man looked oddly familiar, despite the fact that he had never seen him in any of his horror games. He eventually fell asleep, ignoring the discomfort of his tongue as it begged for water.

Ignoring the uncomfortable pain in his bladder.

Ignoring the same figure from his dream standing at the foot of his bed, smirking his signature smirk as he watched Mark sleep.