I tend to wander these days. (1120 words)
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Info
"So we cooked my son and ate him. The next day I said to her, ‘Give up your son so we may eat him,’ but she had hidden him."
SCP-L096 - Give Up Your Son So We May Eat Him
Arrival Date: 09/06/96
Patient Status: Lost
Special Care Procedures: If found, face and cries are to be ignored. Nonlethal force is authorized, and has been found to accelerate de-manifestation of SCP-L096. Capture of SCP-L096 currently proves impossible.
Description: Every day I wake up in a bed that isn't mine. It's cold and and everything under me hurts from the sores that keep opening because I am lying down far too long. While it's so clear to me why this happens, or maybe it was once, I cannot do anything about it. Still, I can get up myself, and so I try to all the time.
Usually I don't have any difficulty moving around after that. I walk down the stairs to get a bit of cardio in to start my day off, and breakfast's in the buffet trays it always is. I can tell the people here get less familiar by the day. They keep being replaced by copies that look like the ones I know, except something is wrong. Maybe an eye is out of place or their voice is more gravelly than it should be. Now I don't want to do anything with anybody anymore if they're going to be someone completely different than my friends.
I pick at my food for the next few minutes. Eating's hard to do these days when my teeth ache so much with every bite. My jaw opens just fine. I've had to learn to swing it open wider than most, but I just can't stomach the stuff if the chunks are going to be this… intact. And I know they complain about my appetite, but I just can't.
There was a time when I had a lot of muscle on me, y'know? That came with the job. Do as much packing and hauling and throwing stuff onto trucks as I do and you'll never need to see a gym a day in your life. Granted, I'd come home in pain all over, but it was worth it. I'd take off my boots, get one of the old buckets we'd wash the kids in when they were just
little babies,
and I'd soak them in some hot water. And I'd pick them up, and put them on my lap. Look at me now. My arms and legs are sticks. Forget the kids, I couldn't pick up the pitiful excuse of a pillow I've got now. But god, what I wouldn't give to see, well, y'know… them? Them. Yeah. I miss them. I bet they're at kindergarten still.
I want to go home. I know I'm not home right now, and I'm just waiting for them to come get me. They'll come any day. Folks in the medical getups asked me to stop saying that though, giving myself a sense of false hope. But they wouldn't just dump me here and leave me. That's no way to be. Till then, I can still run. I run a lot, whenever someone sees me. I know they do, even if I'm not there.
There's a glint of recognition there, in their eyes, that I think I remember too. It gets me excited! Like maybe there's just something that they were waiting for or to do, and then they'd be right back to come grab me. And so I'm
bounding
and sprinting
and rushing
before I even realize I am.
But the closer I get the more I realize I'm going to be wrong, just like every other time. You get used to it eventually, or so I tell myself, but I still get angry and frustrated and cry just as bad as I did the first time. It's not my fault. The tears make it hard to see.
Or maybe I just tell myself that.
In my opinion, the sprinting brings it out of me, but it's only because I'm lonely. I promise.
I calm down once I get close enough. They do lash out sometimes, but it makes sense. I don't want to scare them, even if it's never who I'm looking for in the first place. Sometimes I worry that maybe I've forgotten that too, and that I've already found them. Forgetting that worry would be nice, but it's still sticking around, the bugger. So I hide my face. I'm too ashamed.
They tell me to do things to distract myself. Some days I imagine myself on a plane, flying away from all this nonsense. To a place where things start to make sense again. I've asked for directions or at least where Sammy, or Peter, or Lucas live, but they tell me they're not around anymore.
I just saw them yesterday, so I know they're lying.
Stuff like this that makes me, well— these days I start to wonder why exactly they put me in there. Sometimes I leave just to make sure that I know my way home. Other days it's because they keep stopping me from getting to work. It's real annoying, but I let them stop me. If I'm trying to make cash to get food, then if I'm already getting food, I suppose I don't need to do the job anyways. I'm sure missing one day'll be fine.
I try to do activities with everyone else. Maybe I paint, or I pretend that I'm taking that hike I always said I would. Felt like I could conquer a mountain just yesterday, but now I can hardly recognize myself in the mirror. I didn't know beards and wrinkles grew that fast. Then it's dinner time, or lunch time, and I end up sleeping most of the day away.
—
When I wake up in the middle of the night, I try turning on the light and reading, but I can hardly make sense of what the words are saying. No, I see just fine, that's not the issue. Even with my cataracts, mind you, but the letters just don't mean anything anymore. They feel like nnssenoe.
At least, that was then. For the last few days, the routine's been the same. I'm sleeping outside, nothin' to eat, it's cold out, and all I have is this crappy little gown they gave me. Warm cup of cocoa would be nice. Maybe I could cut my nails. They're getting all this gunk under them from being in the dirt. I wouldn't mind going back to that other place. They haven't found me yet, though. Maybe they're afraid of me running at them. I should've done a better job of controlling myself.
SCP-L096 is hungry. SCP-L096 doesn't know where he is right now. SCP-L096 is very scared.
I'm frustrated. I'm wet and miserable and angry. I miss my family. I just want to go home.
But I don't really know where home is.
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