Item #: SCP-3890

Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures: I am going to kill the Mimic.

Description: I woke up this morning. Tony was gone. He was the Mimic. It was smarter than I thought, I guess. I was stupid. I should have seen this coming, but I was desperate and it knew it. All it left was some scrawled document and a hole in my head the shape of my name.

My name is…I don't know what my name is. I fear I've underestimated the Mimic. I keep going back to read my name, because I know I wrote it down earlier. But the second after I read it, I forget it again. It's not just erasing the memory, I can no longer retain that information at all. It's gone forever.

As for the document it left, it was another set of containment procedures (for what organization?). They're the only paper I've seen out here anyway. The whole thing is in my handwriting. It's learning to mimic me. It can't get the thought process down, but it's getting better at it. The real Tony's probably wandering around this place somewhere, emptied out years ago.

Is that why it's let me keep going this long, instead of just finishing me off? Keeping its reference material around? I look at my hands and I can see how old they are, but I don't remember the years. I don't even know what fucking year it is now. How long have I been here, anyway? When did I get here? What was the date? It's back there, in the first thing I wrote, but I can't fucking remember it.

I'm not getting out of here. Why am I even writing these? Chances are nobody will ever read them. Of course, no doubt some bullshit skip will end up spitting out these documents for some stupid test at some point, but who cares? I'll be long gone. Keeping hopeful is a force of habit, though, I guess. But I'm not just going to sit here hoping some magic bullshit team is going to pop out of a portal and save me.

I'm going to fucking kill that thing. I'm not running away from some origami fucker that can't get the better of me without pretending to be a building or a bug or a little fucking kid. I'm going to kick its shit in. Fuck you. Fuck you.

I have my knife, still. Unless there's some guns out here, I'm as equipped as I'm ever going to be.

Run, fucker. I'm on my way, and I sure as hell remember how to use a knife.

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