Per 
SCP-XXXX upon initial discovery.
Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: A minimum of three metal bars, each with a thickness of at least 3.5 cm are to remain barring the doors at all times. These restraints must be replaced bimonthly. Under no circumstances should personnel approach or directly interact with the subject. A least two armed guards must be stationed directly outside SCP-XXXX at all times. Any structural damage to the item should be immediately reported.
Description: SCP-XXXX is a seemingly nondescript anomalous object located on the main campus of [REDACTED]. The item appears to be an inconspicuous utility locker painted bright red, measuring roughly 3x0.3 meters. The interior of SCP-XXXX is a standard compartment, resembling that of other nearby models, with one notable exception. The back wall of the locker is missing, and opens up to a space resembling that of a middle class American living room, and by extension, the rest of the house.
A group of humanoids, known as SCP-XXXX-1, have taken residence in the item’s interior. They appear to be normal human specimens, presenting dull, rather unremarkable traits. No notable biological deviations from average members of the species have been detected. Resemblances between different inhabitants seem to imply biological relations. SCP-XXXX-1 possess average human intelligence, Over time, SCP-XXXX-1 have become agitated and increasingly hostile towards any life forms attempting entry. When questioned about possible motivations for acts of violence, the family expressed high levels of claustrophobia, fear of unknown impending demise, and displeasure with being “trapped.” In aggressive states, SCP-XXXX-1 compensate for their lack of remarkable strength with numbers.
SCP-XXXX-1 have actively campaigned with a variety of methods to draw test subjects in. These methods have included imitating a relative of the observer via voice, and hiding long enough for staff to assume they had been neutralized, leading to Incident-XXXX-VITA. Banging, pounding, and ramming sounds on the door of SCP-XXXX are to be considered normal, but any deviations from normal behavior are not to be inspected. Lapses in escape attempts may be an effort to manipulate viewers into opening the doors. SCP-XXXX-1 have also been observed consuming furniture and the flesh of fellow inhabitants for survival purposes for unknown reasons, speculated to be purely recreational.
Addendum XXXX-AD1: As a result of Incident SCP-XXXX-VITA, no staff or personnel are permitted to enter the item under any pretenses or circumstances, nor should any interaction other than applying additional restraints be commenced. The foundation has deemed it unnecessary to risk researchers' lives further for this particular cause.
Incident-XXXX-VITA Transcript
Date: 2/10/██
Involved Personnel: Doctor ██████, D-13575, D-13586
On the aforementioned date at approximately 15:45, all auditory and physical disturbances from SCP-3614 ceased. Doctor ██████ gave the order to send nearby test subjects inside of the item in an attempt to investigate the deviation in behavior, outfitting D-13586 with a body camera to document subsequent events.
[BEGIN LOG]
Doctor ██████: Hold on, do you still hear anything?
D-13586: What are we supposed to do about it?
D-13575: Sounds like they finally got tired. Leave it.
Doctor ██████: Proceed forward and commence an interior inspection please.
After further protest, the test subjects entered the object, proceeding through the entrance to the "living room," which is notably empty.
D-13586: I'll be damned. They're not here.
D-13575: I don't like this either. Let's go, there's no point staying.
Both D-Class personnel begin to exit the interior of the item. At this point, the sound of someone singing can be heard, presumably SCP-XXXX-1. The sound issues from an unknown location up a staircase on the right side of the room. The staircase ascends into unnatural, inky blackness with a faint maroon glow. D-13586 halts, taking hold of D-13575's arm to stop him.
D-13586: You hear that too, right? The calling?
D-13575: Yeah, it means we have to get the hell out, right now. Come on!
D-13586: I know that voice. They smile on their new kingdom.
D-13575: That doesn't make any sense, who are they?
D-13586 hastily sprints upstairs, breaking free from D-13575’s grasp. At this point, multiple inhabitants of SCP-XXXX arrive through various methods, including falling from the ceiling of the room, emerging from the walls, and violently falling down the staircase. They take hold of D-13575 and drive his skull into various surfaces until the agent is unresponsive. After his expiration, all living entities in the room, collectively seize D-13575’s limbs and pull him up the stairs. The sound of their collective song can be heard for several minutes before fading entirely.
[END LOG]
After the event, the door to SCP-XXXX closed and locked autonomously. D-Class personnel involved were considered MIA, and their disappearances were not further investigated for fear of losing valuable lives in the pursuit. On the date of 3/3/██, the object opened again. The corpse of D-13586 was located crammed into the entrance of SCP-XXXX. Flesh was noticeably missing from the cadaver, but the body appeared well fed. Witnesses described a "horrible, unnatural grin with too many teeth" on the victim's face, and claimed that his eyes were "pure black, resembling charcoal stuck into his skull." Upon viewing the footage of the recovery, no such features existed.
