☦A man under the effects of SCP-055.☦
You're not going to believe me when I tell you that they let me keep the shrunk-down 173 as a pet for about three days. Well, maybe you will. Stranger things than that go on around here. Now that you believe me, the lovelies in charge had me keep three other SCPs in my quarters as well. My memory is a bit foggy, and I'm not entirely sure myself why that all came to happen at the moment.
They let me keep this very ugly dog - I'm not sure exactly what the skip was, but he was a very friendly - albeit horribly ugly - dog. He would gnaw softly on my arm and crawl in and around my shoulder. At first it was a bit creepy, but then I realized that he was just being friendly. I even started to think he was a bit cute.
The other thing I remember, there was an air balloon. Well, I think the guys called it an inflatable piñata… it didn't really do anything.
I'm struggling to think of the other, I think it was 173 that drove me nuts, I'm not sure, although I think 173 was the dog. I mean I know that's not possible, but I've never really heard of an ugly dog skip. It seems nice enough.
Oh! Got it. I remember them, or me, someone decided to clean my room out, put the SCPs back or ship them off wherever. That day, yesterday, we were in a Level meeting and Sanders was talking about some law suit involving one of his family members with one of the site higher-ups. He was asking about when he was going to get his money, he seemed bit annoyed or upset, it was an old issue.
It hit me like a truck, sitting there, I remembered a note I picked up off of my counter after they had cleared my room out of everything. It was a little note, I think, from one of the skips I was holding in my room for one reason or another. The note had "You'll have wish you kept me as a pet." in 18 point Courier New font, and I have to admit it worried me something serious. I picked up the note and I left for the meeting, the one where Sanders was complaining. In the hallway, I'm not sure if they were moving them or whatever, that little stuffed bear was walking along behind Agent Breen. Nothing happened there, it was just interesting, you don't see it everyday.
I'm sitting there in the meeting, the one where Sanders (the old man?) is complaining about money. I can see an empty room out of the corner of my eye, well, a bit clear in my vision. There's a check-up table you see a lot in clinics, and there's a cat sitting on it. I think it's a cat, might not be. I'm sure it was a cat, I thought it was nice enough of a cat for a few moments, but then its eyes turned black. Well that's not good I thought, I was worried, a bit, but not enough to cry. You could say I was crying in my mind if that was possible. I was raising my hand for the floor in the meeting, I wanted to tell them about this. I'm a timid sort of guy, and a cat with otherworldly cataracts wasn't going to bother me around this many people - it was probably being moved somewhere or something like that bear was.
Well anyway I keep glancing back and forth to the cat, Sanders continues to talk in this low drone about the money that he hasn't seen yet for the family member he doesn't see anymore. I keep glancing at the cat in the far room, it has white eyes now, and it's looking at me now. Sanders is still talking about the money, I'm raising my hand, the personnel director is looking at me and suddenly I realize that I'm causing a bit of a scene.
My face is a bit wet and I'm sort of propping myself up on the cold plastic chair with my wrist, I've got my hand raised like an elementary school student who really wants to impress the teacher.
I'm not crying but my face is wet, they're tears but I can't say I'm crying. The personnel director looks at me for a few seconds, I look back at the cat, Sanders finishes talking about the money, the personnel director points in my direction but he's really pointing at someone else and they start talking.
I look back at the cat.
Its eyes are white now, but not the same white, it's a horrible white. It happened, well, nothing happened, it was more like watching a movie. There was an awful absence of noise when I looked back at the cat. There was an absence of noise and the archway that the cat was sitting in, the one leading into the clinic-room, was completely encased in a white matte, a white impossible matte. It's like someone grabbed a magic brush and painted in the non-cat areas of the view within the archway.
A few seconds into staring at the motionless white-eyed cat and I could hear myself screaming. I was screaming "It's all white", "fucking help me" and other things that would signify that I was going bonkers (I wasn't going bonkers, though. It was just that the cat and the white gave me a horrible feeling of dread.). Luckily I woke up, just as the personnel crowded around me I jerked awake. I had just experienced the worst kind of fear, I think, I'm not sure I even know at the moment what I'm scared of now. It was like the sort of nightmare you have when you stop breathing.
I'm fine now if you were wondering, I mean, I'm in the Wards, and whatever-it-is is still bothering me, but, well I guess I lied. I found out a bit late that it wasn't really a dream, and I came to terms with it. Don't have the story in stone though…
The words on the walls right now are floating with "kept me as a pet" and other nonsensical phrases. There are two bears in the corner of the room and apparently their names are "who am I!" bears. It's novel, really, you touch the bears and you temporarily become the bear, with a case of amnesia. They're kind of floating there too.
There is a sort of zombie-humanoid thing, and he seems nice enough. There's also a bathtub in here, but I don't think it does anything useful.
I still have the note, the one that said I'd have wished I kept the thing as a pet. I wish I knew what the pet even was, I remember I think I liked it. Well, I was a bit scared of it, but I remember I liked it a lot.
I think I'm actually in a containment cell. I can't really make any sense of all of this. I wish I knew what the thing was that was bothering me, I can't seem to describe it all too well. Maybe that's the thing. I can't really put a face to it, and I'm not sure whether it's a dog or a cat, or a bear. Maybe it's Sanders? Or rather, I mean, it might be kind of like Sanders but more like a cat.
I wish they would kill me or something, I wish something would kill me. They must have some sort of reason for not killing me. Everything is going to be okay I think. Well, I'm not too sure, I don't know, I think I mean.
There's a dog in the window to the containment cell. I think it's the observation room. He has a big mouth. I think I'm going to call for help.