Item #: SCP-5305

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-5305 is to be housed in a standard humanoid containment cell within Site-17. Cranial MRI scans are to be performed weekly to observe any changes in SCP-5305-2.

The genetic offspring of SCP-5305-1 are to receive cranial monitoring as part of their regular medical check-ups.

Description: SCP-5305-1 is the individual formerly known as Mark Budd: a 42-year-old male from Lincoln, United Kingdom. In place of a large section of the anterior cingulate cortex, SCP-5305-1's brain contains a cartilaginous cage-like structure.1 The brain structure of SCP-5305-1 is otherwise non-anomalous and functions within acceptable parameters.

SCP-5305-2 is the designation given to a humanoid entity residing within this cage structure. MRI scans indicate that SCP-5305-2 is roughly 20mm tall and is organic in nature. While evidence suggests that SCP-5305-2 can see and hear via SCP-5305-1, all attempts at direct communication have been unsuccessful.

SCP-5305 was discovered at Lincoln County Hospital when SCP-5305-1 was admitted with a suspected brain hemorrhage. MRI scanning revealed the presence of SCP-5305-2, and SCP-5305 was taken into Foundation custody.

Interview #1: SCP-5305-1

Interviewed: SCP-5305-1

Interviewer: Dr. Marcella Bell

<Begin Log>

Dr. Bell: SCP-5305-1, can you tell me when you first became aware of your condition?

SCP-5305-1: I guess it all started when I was fifteen; maybe sixteen. It was different back then. Like… my head was too heavy somewhere here.

[ SCP-5305-1 presses an area of its forehead approximately 5cm above the bridge of its nose ]

SCP-5305-1: The doctors said it was stress headaches. They gave me some pills but they never did anything.

It went away for a while. Or… I don't know, maybe I got used to it. But then, when it came back… so much worse. Like you wouldn't believe. I thought something was hammering away at my brain. Like it was ripping my head apart from the inside. I gave up rugby; I couldn't watch my favourite shows. I stopped going out to see my friends. I just… lay in bed all day staring at the walls.

But then, sometimes it would all just stop.

[ SCP-5305-1 shifts in its chair and smiles momentarily. ]

SCP-5305-1: The first time I can remember… I'd gone downstairs to fetch a glass of water, I think. Mum had left some music playing, some shitty classic rock. It was echoing round my skull until suddenly it… stopped. So weird. I stood there, swaying to the music. Not enjoying it, like, but the silence inside my head was beautiful. I stood there for one song, then another. A whole album of it probably. Just there in the silence.

There were other times after that. A news report would come on, or I'd catch a look of a painting or some bit of pretentious prose and it'd all… stop. You know? I started walking around art galleries; the cathedral; staring at old junk for hours. I didn't get it – the paintings or how it worked. I didn't care. As long as it kept on working, right? I took on a job as a museum guide and spent my lunch hour there staring at the exhibitions. My boss thought I was a nutter.

It didn't last. After a while, the same old paintings didn't cut it. It built back up – an ache here and a throb there. Honestly, it scared me shitless. I couldn't go back to how it was. That wasn't living. So I went to libraries. I found new books to sit and stare at just to get a minute's break. I'd just sit and turn the pages when it started hurting - didn't matter if I read the words or not, just as long as I was staring.

It was different when I was with her. That first time I saw her face, I was sitting with a book of poems. The pain stopped when she touched my shoulder – and when she spoke…

She said it was her favourite. I think. I barely heard her over the rush. Like my brain was singing on the inside. You can't understand unless you've felt it. Afterwards, I ached to be around her. Or… something did. The books, the art, the music - for weeks, none of it made a bit of difference. I didn't go to work. I couldn't sleep or eat. The ache bit into my brain and nothing that I did even touched it.

I had to find her! Do you understand? I didn't love her but couldn't live without her. I needed -

[ SCP-5305-1 pauses for a moment. It wipes its nose and lips with its sleeve before continuing. ]

Dr. Bell: Please continue, SCP-5305-1.

SCP-5305-1: It was two more weeks before I found her. Just seeing her face made the hammering stop. Seeing her was the best thing I'd ever felt.

We dated for a while before we got married. I don't think I loved her – barely even liked her – back then. I loved the way she took the pain away, though. And… and when we touched or kissed! At the time, I told myself that's how love feels. Like the bit in films where they see each other, yeah? When the camera goes all fuzzy.

It was best when she was happy, so I did everything to keep her that way. She loved theatre shows – the acting sort – and posh dinners. Poems; musty art; houseplants that you buy from hipsters. We had a kid. And then another one. Built up some kind of life together. When we had fights, the pain came back. Wouldn't go away til I bought her fancy flowers. When I made her laugh, though - just bliss for hours and hours.

Did she love me? What I did, maybe. But not who I was. Not like she loved him.

She said it started with a chat. Then a dinner. From there… She said I looked at art but William really saw it. Really heard the music with her. William was in the moment with her and I never was.

She took the kids with her when she left. I wasn't angry, but when she closed the door that last time, something in my brain started raging and raging… I remember there was a scream but I don't know if I screamed it or just felt it happen. I remember the pain of it, and… God, it feels so hollow in here without her. It feels -

<End Log>

Note: SCP-5305-1 sat without speaking for several minutes before it was returned to its containment cell.

Since arriving at Site-17, SCP-5305-1 has shown symptoms consistent with dopamine withdrawal.2 SCP-5305-2 has remained wholly inactive.

To date, attempts to rouse SCP-5305-2 by applying stimuli to SCP-5305-1 have been unsuccessful. The feasibility of applying stimuli directly to SCP-5305-2 is under discussion, pending authorisation by the Ethics Committee. Until a decision is received, SCP-5305 is to be provided with materials similar to those which elicited a reaction from SCP-5305-2 prior to containment.

Addendum 1: SCP-5305

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Although MRI scans are yet to show SCP-5305-2 engaging in any activity, SCP-5305-1 claims to have experienced some slight change in sensation whilst listening to certain audiobooks.3

In an attempt to elicit further responses, arrangements have been made for Ms. Price (formerly Mrs. Amelia Budd) to visit Site-17.

Addendum 2: SCP-5305

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Interview #12: SCP-5305-1

Interviewed: SCP-5305-1

Interviewer: Dr. Marcella Bell

<Begin Log>

Dr. Bell: SCP-5305-1, I'd like you to tell me about what happened three days ago.

SCP-5305-1: I thought you might. Okay, well I guess I should have said something that morning, really. There was pain one second, nothing the next. I thought maybe he was confused. Or nervous. I thought if he could see her… I just wanted to feel it again so bad. I convinced myself it would just be how it used to be. I needed to believe it would be. I - ugh…

[ SCP-5305-1 leans its right temple against its hand and places its elbow on the table. ]

SCP-5305-1: I thought maybe if he just saw her again, that would be enough. And then they brought her in. And fuck it hurt! The second that her hand came round the door. It - God, I can't explain it. Her ring wasn't on her finger and…

[ SCP-5305-1 groans and slumps forwards. It presses both hands over its eyes and inhales slowly. ]

SCP-5305-1: I don't think I can talk about this. I just - I wish…

[ SCP-5305-1's hands slide down its face, coming to rest against its lower lip. Its cheeks are discernibly moist and its eyes are closed. ]

Dr. Bell: Let's stop there for today, SCP-5305-1. Thank you.

<End Log>

Since the events detailed in Interview #12, SCP-5305-1 has repeatedly requested further meetings with Ms. Price, expressing hopes that the outcome might be different. Given the slight cerebral damage visible in MRI scans immediately after the incident, these requests are to be denied until further notice.

Footnotes

1. Images of the cage show it to be a cuboid with sides approximately 35mm in length.

2. Current symptoms include irritability, anxiety, depression, insomnia, and orthostatic hypertension.

3. In particular, SCP-5305 has now listened to Jean-Paul Sartre's Nausea 5 times, and Albert Camus' Exile and the Kingdom: Stories 4 times.