SCP-19281; The Shape-Shifting Art Supplies | An SCP FanFic

Chapter 8: It's hopeless... I'll never escape!

I woke up in my cell what felt like an hour later, and my head was pounding like crazy. What's even worse was that my body felt like it had been run over by a semi. I slowly sat up and rubbed my head. "Ugh, my body feels like absolute trash," I complained, and it was true. I really felt like I wanted to die because it hurt so much.

I faintly heard footsteps walking towards my cell door. "Ugh. I can't deal with people in general right now. I hurt too much," I grumbled. "PLEASE GO AWAY. I CAN'T DEAL WITH PEOPLE RIGHT NOW. UNLESS YOU HAVE PAINKILLERS, THEN DON'T EVEN TRY TO GET ME OUT OF HERE! I FEEL LIKE I'VE BEEN RUN OVER BY A SEMI!" I yelled, and I winced as soon as I did.

"Don't worry, young teen. I have what you want. You just have to trust me," an unfamiliar voice eerily assured me, sending a chill down my spine. I hastily looked around for a weapon, and I settled on my shoe. "W-Who's th-there? I-I'm warning y-you. I have a shoe and I-I'm not afraid t-to use it!" I hesitantly informed as the footsteps advanced closer.

I heard a faint, mischievous chuckle. "Oh, you sweet, innocent child. First of all, your unconfident voice says everything. You couldn't hurt a fly even if you wanted to. And second of all, I'm not here to hurt you. In fact, I want to help. You wanted painkillers, right? Well, I have them right here. But first, you need to help me out. I'll give you a small dose of painkillers to start with so you're actually somewhat functional and productive. Now, do we have a deal?" The eerie, unfamiliar voice explained, and I hesitated. "D-Depends. What do you mean by 'help you out'?" I asked hesitantly.

I heard another mischievous chuckle. "I knew you'd agree. I just need you to show me how far your telekinesis goes before you either collapse from exhaustion or your nose bleeds. Now, are there any more questions before we start?" My captor asked mischievously. I could already tell he was almost outside my door. Hold on. WHAT???!!! I ain't in the mood to clean up a nosebleed, let alone my own! Imma decline. But wait, what if he ignores my requests and forces me to do it or bribes me into it or something like that??!! Is there really no way out?? Can I really not escape this awful place?? Am I really, truly trapped here, forced to do painful, endless, testing???  I anxiously contemplated, and I sighed in defeat. I guess... I have to. I'm in severe pain, and he has the cure for it. I have no choice; I have to say yes to his offer. I finally decided inside my head.

"Hey, are you allowed to be on this hall? This is level 2 and above clearance!" I heard one of my guards explain to the unknown man. I looked up from my misery and immediately heard the clinking and jingling of a lanyard soon after he said that. "OH, MY-! I am so sorry, sir. I didn't realize that you were the site director! Please, by all means, go inside!" That same guard apologized. "Thank you, Eric. You are most kind. I've been ordered by one of the researchers assigned to SCP 19281-1 to study her personality and super-ability's limits. Don't worry, Eric. She's in good hands," the unknown voice reassured, and I rolled my eyes in irritation. He probably knocked out the real site director & swiped it off his neck when he passed out,  I thought as I rolled my eyes again in annoyance & boredom.

Squeak! Clang-clank! Swoosh!  My cell door practically screamed, making me wince in agony. My jaw dropped. Was this the younger researcher who wanted to further test my telekinetic abilities? If so, then he looked a lot younger than what his actual age probably was (he looked about 18-25).

The unknown man walked closer to me, his hands solemnly behind his back, sort of like the main antagonist, Gabriel Agreste, always does from "Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir". I saw a faint smirk/evil & mischievous smile appear on his face. "Hello, SCP 19281-1, also known as Imaginitia Raimia Cotten, or more preferred, Missy. Nice to finally meet you in person instead of behind the observation glass. Now, here's my end of the deal," he delivered, and he injected a yellowish-green liquid into my upper right arm (or the one with the microchip/shock implant inside it), and I winced in light pain from the needle, probably due to being tense. The unknown man stepped back once he was done lightly cleaning & bandaging the tiny wound from the needle. He then handed me a plastic bottle of water, and emotionlessly replied, "Don't worry, Missy. The discomfort will soon subside. Now, time to uphold your end of the deal."

He then produced a 10-12 pound weight from a bag I hadn't noticed before, probably due to being distracted by my mental breakdown. "Try to lift this for me, please," he requested. My jaw lightly dropped, and I quickly looked from the 10-12 pound weight, then to his bag, and then back to him. I repeated that a few times before laughing my ass off & rolling all over my very uncomfortable bed.

I eventually calmed myself down and replied, "Hell no, shortass. I barely even exercise on a daily basis. Hell, I barely touch grass daily if I can help it. The most exercise I probably ever do is walking; or running if I'm late for class; halfway across the school and back. Or even just walking into the kitchen to make a sandwich or something like that. The last time I took the pacer test for P.E. at school, it said I was so severely, severely out of shape, that the overall report said I was at a health risk level. I doubt that I could lift that heavy-ass thing!" I ranted, waving my arms slightly frantically around as I spoke.

He only nodded in response. "Ok, noted. One, we're going to put a treadmill in your cell & update your implant to remind you to exercise on it at least once or twice daily; and two," he paused, and he easily lifted the exercise weight as if it were just a small textbook and returned it to its original bag, replacing it with a lighter one. "Try to lift it now. It's only 5 pounds," he finished, and I slumped. DAMMIT! I thought that might work! I'm not in the mood to have a nosebleed right now. Buuttt.... I'm bored. So bored, in fact, that I'm actually wondering what this strange man is thinking about, like a fucking, psycotic pervert. I thought irritably, and I rolled my eyes at the last thought.

"Young lady, I hope those eyes are not being directed towards me. That would turn out very bad for you to do," the strange man warned, snapping me out of my mental pity party. I tried to read his mind, but I saw things in his mind that probably shouldn't have been shared. I almost mentally snapped after I saw those horrible, indescribable things (get your head out of the gutter. I just saw some war-crime kinds of things that even a mentally stable person might break down about.). "I... I don't th-think I-I was supposed to see that," I stammered in a light whisper, my hands slowly moving to the top of my head.

"Hm? Oh, I forgot that you can read minds. Ok, what did you see?" He requested, sighing at the end. I slowly looked up. "I... I can't even... It doesn't make any... Why would you even... I can't even begin to describe it," I finally managed to reply. "Oh. Oh..." The strange researcher replied, stunned and slightly in shock. He sighed anxiously in fear and rubbed his forehead. "Okay, one, I think that's enough testing for today, and two, it's probably time for an amnestic. You really do not need to know the kinds of terrible things I do that I still regret doing to this day, and you're already extremely mentally unstable as it is," he explained.

He took out a needle from his lab coat, gently inserted it into my neck, and put a bandage on top of the wound. "Okay... Hopefully, that should one, not get me fired and possibly in jail for accidentally showing you some very confidential stuff, and two, have any negative side effects from clashing with the painkiller," he explained, sighing nervously again. "Ok... Goodnight, Ms. Cotten. I'm going to clock out," he announced, walking out. He turned off my cell's lights as he exited.

"Y-yeah... N-night," I anxiously replied. However, moments later, I had completely forgotten about the past hour. What the- Why am I on my side as if I saw something I shouldn't have? That's weird. I thought in confusion, completely oblivious to what would have been an absolute disaster. I sat up and started to play with my clay, but I soon started to get sleepy due to the light being off. I put away my clay, shape-shifted into a black leopard, patted down a spot to sleep by turning in circles, and slowly dozed off to sleep.