Documentation of Site-■■■ [MCYT SCP FILES]

i just write these when im too tired to write the survival guide then fix them when im awake so they're not the best

~~~

His life from before seemed like nothing more but a fever dream. But he did remember that day clearly: The last day he truly had freedom.

It was the second to last week of school, tenth grade almost complete. Perhaps he wasn't the brightest, but he certainly wasn't dull either, but now he wished he'd been more studious. Maybe if he had been he wouldn't of found himself running late on that day. The morning had seemed pleasant enough, although it seemed likely that a drizzle would roll in sooner or later, but that was to be expected, given the English climate. And besides, he was late anyway. Taking one day off so late in the year would have hardly mattered anyway.

That was Tommy's first mistake.

His second was passing through to a more deserted area of town, one barren of people this time of day, the majority of the town's population either in school or work. Tommy grinned at the emptiness, more content at the lack of life than concerned, something calling to him from its desolate streets. Reasonably, being alone in any part of town should have crossed his mind as dangerous, but for some reason, he felt as much as ease in the empty alleys as in his own home. This did not cross him as suspicious at all.

He didn't know it at the time, but the last normal moments of his life were almost over, his clock ticking loudly inside his ears in a silent rhythm that he was yet unaware of. The urge to sleep began to play with his mind, as though urging him to just- Sleep. Maybe if he hadn't spent all of last night playing video games, then it might not have been so strong. Or maybe if he simply gave a second thought to how strange it was that his lids were feeling heavy despite only waking up half an hour ago. Or maybe even paid attention to the strange wrenching in his gut that was practically begging him not to listen to the sudden calling of weariness.

Lots of things could have gone differently in those final moments of normalcy, but none of them happened. Tommy stifled a yawn, leaning against the sturdy wall of a nearby building, seriously contemplating to just lay his head against it and rest his eyes, if not for a moment.

A quick scream passed through his lips, but was promptly cut short as soon as it'd begun. The solid wall beneath him suddenly vanished, leaving Tommy tumbling into the space it had left. Everything went dark much too fast, and he felt himself falling for much longer than he should have. Despite feeling more awake then ever before, a rising static in his ears called him to sleep, and reluctantly, he obeyed.

Tommy fell asleep falling in never-ending darkness, not knowing that everything he knew before had been ripped clean from his hands.

~~~

It's been three months since Tommy woke back up. Every minute of it has been hell.

Tommy had woken up in a type of interview room with significant effort, taking a minute to even realize he was awake. The room was bland, decorated with nothing except a table and chair, and most surprisingly, a guard armed with much more than non-lethal weapons. Seated in front of him was a serious lady in a uniform, the logo some sort of weird circle with arrows. She began asking him questions, which seemed basic enough at first, but soon ventured into mildly strange. Eventually, she seemed unsatisfied with Tommy's knowledge, or perhaps more realistically, lack of any.

"What year is it, Mr. Simons," She had asked, and Tommy frowned and burrowed his brows, thinking it yet another strange question to add to his ever-growing pile of questions. She had asked him so many questions that made it seem as though he were a criminal of some sort, and stranger yet, she seemed so professional, yet had yet to reveal her own name despite seeming to know everything about Tommy. And why would she be asking for the year?