aurorabrynn

Dad,

I’m going to be honest, I’m not sure what to write. I guess, first things first: I’m sorry for not writing back. I have tried before, but I would never how to begin, nor how it would get to you. I still don’t know, but there is so much you need to know, and not much time left.

I am sorry. I am so, so, so sorry. Words do not describe the guilt I feel. I have been angry for so long. I didn’t understand for so long, and I damned you for so long. I would pray to God that you would go to hell. But now I am begging to God that He will forgive you, and I pray that you’ll forgive me. I thought for the longest time that you were the Devil. But I was wrong.

To me, my mother was a kind, wonderful woman. I’ve thought of her as my guardian angel ever since she died. I must’ve started hearing her voice when I was around 10, I don’t actually remember. The nuns told me that I could hear angels, that I was special, and that I was a perfect candidate to become a sister. Mom would tell me little things, like, “I love you,” or “Brush your teeth!” I even heard lullabies sometimes. As I grew up, I heard her more and more. More complete sentences, warnings, and even long stories. We started talking to each other. I told her things only a mother and daughter could know. For all intents and purposes, I had a mom, and a father in the Lord. And that thought was extremely comforting.

She told me all about the tribe she was born in, and how you used to play games with her as children. She told me how you killed her. Over, and over again. She portrayed herself as the angel I saw her to be, and you as the demon I saw you to be. I saw it as the truth. But all she did was reinforce my thoughts on you and it allowed her to manipulate me and my feelings in ways I could’ve never imagined.

The Foundation folk were…quite scared when I told them I heard my mom’s voice. They immediately took me to a kind neuroscientist and psychologist. They were looking for a lie, or something wrong with me, I guess. When they didn’t find anything, they warned me to not do anything the voice told me to do. She said they were untrustworthy, and that they only see me as a pawn in their endless experiments. I never talked to them again about her.

Then, about a week ago, during that massive containment breach, I was forced out of my cell. All of my bodyguards died around me. I hid in a file room for what seemed like hours, days, weeks. I thought for sure I was going to die. It’s by God’s grace I survived. Some poor scientist was dead on the ground with a thick file in his hand. He never secured it before dying. I saw “SCP 166” on a loose page. The odds that a file that wasn’t mine containing my name would be plopped right in front of me… I had to read it.

It was SCP-4231. I saw it Dad. I saw it all. The investigations, the emails, the interviews, everything.

I asked my mother about it as soon as the breach was contained, and I was safely back in my cell. I thought for sure she would deny it. I thought that she would see something wrong with the actions taken by this abuser.

“Oh, darling, I just wanted you so badly,” she told me. She continued on, calling you an idiot, a cheater, a liar, a weakling… a nobody who told her “no” over and over and over again. She seemed shocked when I vomited.

God made me this way on purpose. God made me this way to punish my mother for her sins. She just didn’t get to live long enough to see the fruits of her sins. I haven’t talked to her since. Now she’s nothing but an annoying voice in my head. She still tries to sing me lullabies, but they keep me awake now. I can only think about all the pain she’s caused. I think about the guilt I felt towards myself, and the anger I felt towards the men who hurt me. I think about how I felt the urge to kill them. But I didn’t. You did. And, between you, me, and God, I envy you.

She’s getting angry. She’s demanding my attention and yelling and screaming at me. She is screaming the same insults she screamed at you. I don’t know what she has done, or if some stranded follower of hers did something, but I can see myself changing. I’m growing antlers. They hurt. They hurt so bad. I’m starting to lose myself. I’m becoming her. She intends to finish the job her tribe started. She’s going to bring back Eden.

It’s your turn Dad. Finish your job. Kill me before it’s too late. Please forgive me.

Yours,
Meridiana

P.S. I love you too.