letter to my future self.

Note: On 2014/04/30, a letter, apparently written by PoI-████, was apprehended inside a small reinforced box in SCP-████'s previous residence. An excerpt of said letter is included below..

Hello.

I'm you.

I'm you from better days. Days you don't remember, right now. They made you forget.

You're confused. But please trust me.

I don't know when are you reading this. I hope it isn't too late.

I need to tell you something.

I will start with how I met Julie.

I met her in a cafe pub. She came to me with two hot drinks and said that I was the prettiest girl she ever saw and that she wouldn't sleep at night without trying to talk with me. I thought she was a creep. But her smile was so nice and charming I couldn't help but talk to her.

We traded our phone numbers, and I left. She called me half an hour later. I answered.

After that, we wouldn't stop talking. She always called me at exactly 10PM.

Our first kiss was at her friend's party she invited me for. Not exactly the best place, but it's something I hold dear in my heart. We started dating the day after. These were the best days of my life. Not much time after, she proposed to me. I said yes.

She told me a few weeks after we married. Told me to sit down, with tears in her eyes. Said that ever since she was nine, she could move and make things at her will. She made a bowl fly in front of my eyes, and one second later it was a pair of flowers. She asked me what I thought of her, now. If I thought she was a demon, or a monster, or a liar.

I told her no. That I understood. That I love her for what she is, and nothing would break what we had, not even this. I only asked her one thing: to never tell anyone, besides me. She promised, and we moved on.

After that, I started seeing more cops than usual. I started noticing more mean-looking people, staring our way. It felt like the whole world was looking at us, spying every little thing we did. I promised her that our lives would still be as normal as before, but I grew worried every day. I didn’t feel safe in my house, anymore.

I started having nightmares. I thought of shady government agents, taking her from me, forever. I started seeing them in real life. Always on the lookout, making notes about us as we left houses and restaurants. Sometimes, I wondered if my own friends were agents, too.

I began taking heavy medicine, trying to stop this hell. My memory grew worse every day. I cried myself to sleep many times.

She began talking about having a kid. I told her no. Never told why. But I couldn't live in fear that my children's mother could simply not show up after work at any time, in any day. Eventually, she stopped talking about it.

She never believed me. Never believed in shady agents ready to ruin our lives in a fateful day. She told me that what she had was random. “God was looking at another side when I was born.” She said that our world was completely normal, except for her. To stop worrying so much.

And then, the day came. She told me she had lost her job, and we couldn't live like that forever. She told me it was just one time, one time she would use it, to help us, financially. She said she wouldn't steal from anyone, that the bank had money to spare, and no one would notice. I told her no, that they would notice, and they would take her from me. We fought, and she left the house.

She came back a few hours after, with a huge grin in her face, holding thousands of dollars in a small jacket. “See?”, she said, “I told you. It's too easy. No one's coming for us.”

I was relieved. But I also wasn't sure.

She was gone a day later.

I left my house, my city, and my job. I searched for her everywhere. There were no traces. No one even remembered her. Not even her closest friends.

No one.

I knew they had taken her. And I knew they would take me, too. I knew they would make me forget.

They tried.

Kidnapped me one time. When I was having dinner in a roadhouse.

Took me to a cold room. Full of black logos and paper notes. Stuck burning wires in my body. The same medicine I used, I thought.

I didn't forget. By God's miracle, I didn't forget.

Or maybe the dose was too weak. Or maybe I was used to it.

After they released me, I came back to our house, to write the letter you're holding now.

When they realize I'm still looking for her, that I still remember and cherish her, they'll catch me, again. They'll catch me, and they won't make the same mistake. I know.

So I ask.

Don't forget, too. For us.

Come back. For her.

With love,

Maria.