He’s always moving, Chavez. He’s a crier. Just ignore it.
On the remaining screen, a blurred, spindly white shape slams into the reinforced door. The metal groans, folding like wet cardboard. 096 [SCP] Script | ESP
Suddenly, a loud echoes through the comms. One of the monitors turns to static. He’s always moving, Chavez
It’s back in its cell. Sitting in the corner. Crying. Like nothing ever happened. Reyes looks at his hands. They are shaking. He’s always moving
Reyes sits across from an (Shadowed). On the table lies the polaroid, now stained with blood.
In the extreme background of the photo, there is a tiny, four-pixel grey smudge. Hey Mom, what’s this?