SCP-5043

Unscheduled

Finally, maybe Tord could make some friends.

He walked up to the small group in the breakroom, summoning his courage.

"Hey guys!" He said, waving slightly.

The group looked at him like he had three heads, and turned back to their conversation, something about a game. Tord didn't really watch any kind of sports, so he just nodded along with the conversation, laughing when necessary.

After a bit, he decided he wasn't wanted there, and began to walk away.

Tord felt a rocket of hope when he heard one of them say his name.

"Hey, Tord was it? Why don't you go check on all the D-Class in hallway 8D? I don't feel like doing it."

"Uh, sorry I can't. I other work to do, Roskam." Tord said, continuing to walk away from the conversation.

"So what? You can spend time with the only thing that tolerates you? That freak?"

"You are so unprofessional." Tord muttered quietly.

"Say the guy who's dating an SCP." Roskam whispered to the group. A few laughs echoed through Tord's head.

He clenched his fists as he went to check on the D-Class.

They were never kind to him. Sometimes it seemed like Eva and Tom were his only friends.

They would pay.

Timeskip

After a full hour of checking the D-Class, Tord was exhausted.

He pulled up his keycard and let himself into his small lab, collapsing into his squeaky rolling-chair. He hunched over his desk, forcing his eyes open, taking a sip of coffee, staring at the page in front of him.

The letters swirled and mixed into blurry shapes. Tord squinted, inspecting the page with rigor. He took another sip of coffee.

It was cold.

Maybe..just a second of...closed eyes..just a second..

The desk made a small thump as Tord slouched down into a much needed sleep, splaying out onto the desk, knocking a few papers down.

Barely a minute passed before the door swung open, a figure sliding into the small space.

It was Dr. M, also known as Dr. Mayberry, or to Tord, Eva. She stood behind Tord, watching him sleep. Inspecting the heavy bags under his eyes. Stroking the ruffled hair.

So soft.

Eva saw a crumpled blanket in the corner. She grabbed it hastily, like it would disappear if she didn't snatch it quick enough. She gently draped it around Tord's shoulders, tucking it under his arms so it would stay. She positioned it so it would be warm around his face, making sure he could still breathe. She didn't want to suffocate him after all.

As she stood watching him breathe, her eyes drifted to his desk, the cluttered mess it was. She leaned over his sleeping form to peer at the papers. Graphs and designs, numbers and words scrawled in his messy handwriting.

One thing stuck out to her.

The repetition of a word. Or, a name per se.

Tom

Eva was suddenly filled with burning rage.

Tord, HER Tord, was burning himself out over this damn freak.

She would show him that nobody hurt her Tord.

Carefully and quietly, she exited Tord's lab and began to make her way to Tom's room. She began to fantasize about the things she would do to him. Suffocate him with his undeserved pillows. Hurt him, bad, maybe even kill him if the opportunity arose.

The viewing room door opened, the rubber guard at the bottom sweeping across the floor. Through the door to the cell.

Man, this guy was a heavy sleeper.

There he was. The thing that was ruining her life. Sleeping so peacefully.

"You don't know what you did to him.." Eva whispered, caressing the side of Tom's face.

Tom's eyes flickered open, making direct eye-contact with Eva. She reeled her fist back in one fluid motion and punched Tom directly in the face. A small snap was heard, along with Tom's pained screams.

He popped up, hand flying to his nose. Definitely broken. Eva reeled her fist back again, landing another punch on the side of Tom's head. Eva grabbed Tom's arm and forcefully dragged him out of the bed and to a corner, leaving a small trail of blood. Tom curled up into a ball, trying to protect himself. Eva started to kick him, leaning against the wall so she could get more strength.

A blow the the stomach, side, chest, face.

She leaned over and stomped on his ankle, another snap filling the room. Tom screamed as he clutched his ankle.

Finally, after she was done, Eva turned and started to walk away. Tom painstakingly got up, limping slowly to Eva.

He didn't even notice that his hand was no longer a hand as thick black claws raked Eva's back. The momentum from scratching her knocked Tom backward, falling onto his back and hitting his head on the cement floor. She screamed and lurched forward falling on her chest.

Blood began to drip around both of them, Eva struggled to get to the door. She made it, and pulled the alarm for a containment breach. Her face contorted into a twisted smile as she heard the heavy boots beginning to thunder in the distance. She stared at Tom, who had sat up, hugging his knees, normally black eyes turned white, ankle twisted in a direction it shouldn't be. Blood dripped from his face and body.

Perfect.