Interviewer: Dr. Drahoslav Patočka, on-site psychiatrist
Interviewed: SCP-230
Begin Log
Patočka: Well, let's get this started, then. As part of our current policy on taking in humanoid anomalies, I will now ask you a series of questions about your background, past life, and anomalous properties. Shall we begin?
SCP-230: Sure, sure, of course. Ask away.
Patočka: Right, then. First of all, when did your… your condition first make itself known?
SCP-230: Oh, I was born like this. The first one to really notice what was wrong with me was my dad — at least, that's what he told me. My mom died giving birth, and somehow none of the doctors there suspected that anything was wrong. (SCP-230 shrugs) According to my dad, he only figured it out when I was about half a week old.
Patočka: Did he not alert a doctor, or even tell anyone else about it? I would assume that'd be an obvious thing to do, all things considered.
SCP-230: Nope. He didn't even tell me for a while. Just, uh… kept me inside. Never had any friends growing up, strictly cyberschooled, you know the deal. Eventually, though… someone snitched, they did a drug bust, I was taken in and put through — through rehab, I got my own place, started selling my spit to get by, and now… now we're here, I guess! (SCP-230 laughs harshly and shakes its head.)
Patočka: With all due respect, Michael — if I may call you by your legal name (SCP-230 nods its head) — I find it hard to believe that you were able to conceal your anomalous properties from others for so long. Would they not have noticed during your rehabilitation, nor, say, taken a blood test?
SCP-230: (Visibly uncomfortable, refuses to make eye contact) I- Dad taught me to conceal it. I always wore gloves and long clothes, a mask if I had to, never came too close to anyone — and I, uh, chose to opt out of the blood test when they asked me about it.
Patočka: That doesn't make any sense. (Dr. Patočka leans closer to SCP-230.) You know, Michael, lying isn't going to help anyone in this situation. The more we know, the more we'll able to help you. Do you understand? (SCP-230 nods after several seconds of silence, not making eye contact.) Now, tell me what really happened.
SCP-230: I- could I- (SCP-230 pauses for approx. 1 minute, scratching its chin.) I'm sorry, I- I don't feel comfortable saying, at least not now. Is that-
Patočka: You're fine. You can choose not to disclose anything you don't feel like disclosing at any time. We'll have more sessions in the future.
SCP-230: Th-thank you.
End Log
Interviewer: Dr. Drahoslav Patočka, on-site psychiatrist
Interviewed: SCP-230
Begin Log
Patočka: So, Michael, how have you been this past week? Have you been getting accustomed to containment?
SCP-230: More or less. It's been fine for the most part — probably better than prison, been able to meet some pretty nice people, get more than enough to occupy me in the off-hours, all that. Just — been getting some weird dreams lately.
Patočka: Trauma will do that to you. Almost every humanoid we take in has nightmares, at first — it's part of settling in. Would you mind telling me what you can remember from them?
SCP-230: Pardon?
Patočka: You'd be surprised, Michael. A lot of things can be determined from one's dreams.
SCP-230: Er… yeah, I suppose you're right. Well, uh… actually, I've only been having one dream, I guess. A recurring nightmare. (Dr. Patočka nods)
Patočka: Go on.
SCP-230: Right. Well… in the dream, I'm always totally alone, back home, just the way I am now. I'm wearing this damn button-down, mask and gloves you guys always make me wear. (SCP-230 pauses briefly) After that, I start, I dunno, growing down? Shrinking? Whatever you call it, I turn into a kid again.
Patočka: Regressing?
SCP-230: Maybe. Anyway, there I am, a little kid sitting on the couch at my old house, my gloves too big for my hands and my mask hanging around my neck like a damn medallion. It's all dark, and I notice a tray next to me, filled with all sorts of- of medical tools. And then- and then…
Patočka: I'm sorry to pry.
SCP-230: (Breathing heavily) You're fine, you're entirely fine. I'm the one who should be sorry.
Patočka: Take your time, Michael. Just take your time. Again, you don't need to tell me anything you don't want to.
SCP-230: No, this is fine. (SCP-230 closes its eyes and breathes deeply with its hand on its chest. After a few seconds in this position, it continues to speak.) After all that, I see my dad. And he's, well… he- I guess you could say he comes out of the shadows. (SCP-230 closes its eyes and shudders.)
Patočka: I promise you, Michael, I don't need to know everything. I won't hold it against you if you don't tell me something, or another-
SCP-230: Like I said- I'm all right. Anyway, uh… yeah. Yeah, my dad. He's, well… he looks dead. Almost dead. Skinny, wasting away, pale. His face is… it's covered in lumps and cuts. And he- and I-
(SCP-230 pauses and shudders. Its eyes begin to water, and it brushes the tears away with its sleeve. Dr. Patočka moves to comfort him, but stops himself and resumes his previous position.)
SCP-230: I take the medical stuff, the scalpels and the forceps and the s- the syringes… and I cut him open, and scrape away his skin and flesh, and he just sits there and gives himself to me, not protesting, not trying to fight back, like he's encouraging me, egging me on. I cut deep, past his muscles, into his ribcage, and dig into his heart and lungs — and I- well. I just- I just keep cutting, until… until there's nothing there. There's nothing left of him, just- just meat. Meat and bone. A-and I don't feel anything. Not during, not after- but-
Dr. Patočka: Michael- that's enough. I'm- I'm sorry. You should-
SCP-230: A-again, I'm the one who should be sorry. I got- I got carried away. It's just- just that- (SCP-230 bursts into tears. Sensors within the interview chamber detect a marked increase in the amount of Compound 230CHNo in the air.)
Dr. Patočka: I'm afraid that's all we have time for. (He cautiously extends his arm, and places it on the shoulder of SCP-230.) I'm sorry. I truly am. I'll try to help you more with this in the future.
(SCP-230 nods, and wipes its face with its sleeve. Dr. Patočka leaves the chamber.)
End Log
Interviewer: Dr. Drahoslav Patočka, on-site psychiatrist
Interviewed: SCP-230
Begin Log
Patočka: How are you, Michael? I do hope you're feeling better this week.
SCP-230: I sure am. That dream hasn't really come back since I told you about it, so I guess that helped, at least. I've been talking a lot to some of the other jailbirds whenever I get the chance, too.
Patočka: I'm very glad to hear that.
SCP-230: I'm just healing, just plugging along. Trying to make the most of this shitty situation. (It laughs and shakes its head.) Well, then — what did you wanna ask me about this time around?
Patočka: Well… to be entirely honest, I'd like to discuss your relationship with your father more - (SCP-230 flinches) but, seeing as you seem unprepared to open up about that, I'd like to talk about other aspects of your life. As in, your life before containment, your anomalous properties. Not to mention your relationship with your partner.
SCP-230: Joseph. (It leans back in its chair, staring at the wall above Dr. Patočka.) I hope he's doing well.
Patočka: I assure you — from what I've heard, he's doing just fine.
SCP-230: I'll take your word for it. I just— (It sighs.) I'm still worried, you know? He seemed like the only one out there who really… who really cared about me. He stuck with me, all this time. And he- and I was always there for him. (SCP-230 lowers his gaze.) I miss him.
Patočka: I'll assume you had a good relationship.
SCP-230: It was good, all things considered. We were… (It pauses.) We were friends, first and foremost. Or at least, trusted companions? I met him back when I was selling mys- er, selling drugs.
Patočka: You were his dealer?
SCP-230: (It hesitates.) I- yeah. Yeah, I was. He was already kind of a junkie, to be honest, and I just thought I could- I just thought I could help him. And I think I did. (It sighs, and leans back in its chair.)
Patočka: If you don't mind me asking, how exactly did you think you'd help him?
SCP-230: He- well, I wanted to- (It breathes deeply) He was poor. He told me as much. I could see that he was desperate for a hit, that he'd sell his soul — and might've done as much already — for some dope. He looked, well, just like- uh, he looked just like any other junkie on the street, bone-thin, his face covered in cuts and welts, veins popping out of his arms — I knew he didn't have much longer to live in that state. And the most terrible thing about all this is that- that I wouldn't have given a shit if it was anyone else.
(SCP-230 closes its eyes and breathes deeply.)
SCP-230: But… but he was special, to me. He was different, and I wanted to- I wanted to be with him. So I agreed to let him stay at my apartment, and use me to- to get high. And I thought I could, uh… wean him off it, too, you know? I thought I'd be able to get him better, that I could change him, get him off the dope and help him get his life back on track-
Patočka: (He sighs.) I'm not sure what to say to that. (SCP-230 faintly smiles.) I will say this: it's obvious to me, from what you've said about Joseph, how much you cared about him. And while I may find fault in your methods, you clearly had his best interests at heart.
SCP-230: I was selfish. He showed me that. And- and in a way, what I did was selfish, too. Selfish and idiotic. (It sighs, and stares at the wall above Dr. Patočka's head. It appears to be holding back tears.) All I hope is that he's not back on the street, or- or hurting, in any way. (It pauses.) Would you guys potentially be able to pull some strings? Maybe find him, find out where he is, and get him to- to rehab, or something?
Patočka: That's above my clearance level, but I'll do the best I can. If knowing how Joseph is doing will make you feel better, it's my duty to get that information to you.
SCP-230: I- thank you. Thank you very much. Now, uh, could we stop a bit early, again? I need some time to myself.
Patočka: Of course, Michael.
End Log
