It stank. It reeked of feces and blood that she herself was responsible for. She lay in a puddle of her own feces and blood, and she didn’t care. Not any more.
It didn’t matter any more. Nothing mattered any more.
It had been, what, three, four, five months after it happened? Maybe even six. After daddy came home from work late at night, after mommy came home from work late at night, after little Armand had his third birthday. After everything went to shit.
She could still see it in front of her. Oh, she can see it so clearly.
The following is a message composed via consensus of the O5 Council.
Oh, so clearly. Like somebody pressed a hot iron against her brain. The memory brought only pain.
Ayesha pointed at the little screen, as they were huddled on the couch, bought at some yardsale ages ago, and she tried to comprehend the meaning of those words. How so innocent.
A rat scurried by. Not a particularly large one, but it would suffice. She slowly crept onto the vermin, so silent, so careful in her every movement, she grabbed the rusty nail and, with a swing and a splat, got herself some dinner.
She inspected the rat; too risky not to. Her fingers bored their way through the fur, the skin and the flesh, until her fingertips were stained in red, her nails scratching against the bones of the vermin, while her eyes stared intently at the squishy innards, the blood trickling down the side of her palms.
Once she determined that the vermin was safe, she placed it into the pile mentally labeled as ’good ones’. Because the bad ones were not safe. The bad ones tasted funny.
For those who are not currently aware of our existence, we represent the organization known as the SCP Foundation.
A searing pain burned through her thoughts, the smell of her own blood and shit.
It was so quiet back then. Quiet with cars. Chirping of birds. Shower curtains. No monsters under the bed. Only people on the streets. Human people. How she missed the sensation of water running down her body, the voice of another human in her ears, the laughter of her mother, the wailing of her brother, the warm embrace of her father.
Our previous mission centered around the containment and study of anomalous objects, entities and other assorted phenomena. This mission was the focus of our organization for more than one-hundred years.
Shadow people. In the dark. Snatching you away when you’re not careful. A rumbling noise. It was her belly. Hungry, screaming for an ounce of whatever she could get her hands on, whatever scurried between the walls of what was once her home, too fast for the monsters to infect, yet too slow to escape her.
Between the walls, she was safe. Between the walls, there was warmth. There was comfort. Remnants of a life she remembers, yet cannot feel. That she longs for, yet so far. Because of the people. Outside.
Outside was bad. Monsters. Outside. People. Outside. Parents. Outside. She missed them dearly. A lift from father. A kiss from mother. A laugh from her brother.
Thoughts, mangled and twisted into some unshapen mass, incapable of taking form. Muddled by the world around her. Passing by as little more than memories. While she lay in a puddle of her own blood and feces.
Footsteps sounded. Outside. She kept her head down, low to the ground, as she hid underneath a table. Where all of them had dinner once.
The monster outside snarled an unimaginable snarl. Had teeth bigger than any animal, claws sharper than any knife. She thought.
Due to circumstances outside of our control, this directive has now changed.
She made herself small under the table. Smaller than she already was. Her fists were clenched, her eyes shut tight. Tried to keep the monsters at bay. The stink of blood and feces did not fade.
And it suddenly went quiet. The monster had run away. Silence. An unbearable silence. And then a voice rang out.
”Ayesha?”
Her heart pounded in her chest like never before. Her eyes widened. Her thoughts were clear.
”Ayesha, are you there?”
Someone tried to open the door. She couldn’t trust her ears. I am dreaming, she thought.
”Ayesha! Ayesha! Oh, God…”
There was pain in his voice. Desperation. Like there was nothing that mattered more than his only daughter.
”Da— Da—”
Her breath was a gasp. Outstretched arms grabbing for words, the so delicate fragments of human thought slipping away, overcome by an overwhelming sensation.
”Ayesha?” the voice asked.
She stood up from under the table. She had difficulty standing upright.
”Ayesha?” the voice asked again.
Then, with a movement of her lips, a flicker of her tongue, spit ran down her mouth, and it was so wet, so wet, and she didn’t care, so thirsty and hungry, full of fear, and she didn’t care, and everything reeked of her own blood and shit, the stink was so horrible, and she didn’t care. She didn’t care anymore.
”Daddy?”
Her words were humble, barely a whisper. A gust of wind in a hurricane, some dust in an old attic, a droplet of blood in the puddle that she lay in.
”Oh, my God. Ayesha! Ayesha!”
”Daddy! Daddy!”
She rushed to the door, her bare feet making wet, disgusting sounds in the puddles of her own blood and feces. And she didn’t care.
Finally she would be able to see her father again, finally able to be hugged again, the warm, soft feeling of a hug, oh, how she had forgotten such a feeling. The feeling of warmth. The feeling of happiness, being loved, looked out after, to be hugged again. The warm embrace of a father.
Her hand grasped the knob of the door firmly, her weak fingers barely able to clench, to hold onto the brass handle, rusted and corroded, broken by the outside world.
She twisted it just enough that there was a click. She opened it.
She could feel the wind breezing past her, drops of rain falling from the sky. And her father. At least, she thought. But what she found on the other side was not her father. It wasn’t even human at all.
In a moment’s notice, the blood-red hound lept at her, digging its sharp claws and teeth deep into her already scarred flesh.
She let out a bellowing screech, trying to fight against, push away, the monstrosity mauling at her, giving out the most horrifying of sounds imaginable.
Every tiniest of sensation, how the rows of teeth tore through her clothes, dug deep into her skin, piercing and cutting through the flesh, her muscles, tendons, ligaments, like a knife through butter, chunks of her own abdomen and innards landing on her, covering herself and the monster in her sickly warm blood, she could feel. The hundred pound monster that stepped on her arm and pinned it down against the floor, which did not care for the feces it burrowed itself in, crushed her tiny little appendage under its weight. She screamed.
The chunks of meat, haphazardly flying everywhere, squirming blood, it didn’t seem to eat any of it; it just tore and tore, until there was nothing left to tear through anymore, to maul, to hear screaming.
”Ayesha! Ayesha!” the abomination shouted from the top of its lungs, still in her father’s deep and caring voice.
More creatures emerged. The laughter of her mother. The wailing of her brother. The voice of her father.
They joined in her father’s feast.
The creatures feasted on the carcass that was once a young girl. A girl with hopes, with dreams, with talents, with fears. Wiped out from the face of the earth, her death barely even a whisper. A scream with no one there to listen. They continued feasting.
It stank. It reeked of feces and blood that she herself was responsible for. She lay in a puddle of her own feces and blood, and she didn’t care. Not any more.
Our new mission will be the extermination of the human race.
There will be no further communication.