(Connected to SCP-002)
I wasn't supposed to get attached. Protocol says we observe, we record, and we never step across the line. But after months of monitoring Subject Pair-██, detachment became impossible.
It began simply enough. Two teenagers, separated by more than 500 kilometers, waking up in each other's bodies. At first, they dismissed it as dreams. But then—
The handwriting matched. Phone contacts shifted. One would draw symbols into the palm of their hand, and the other would wake with the same marks etched into unfamiliar skin.
We logged every instance. Dates, times, overlaps. The evidence was undeniable.
But it wasn't the reality that unsettled me.It was how human it all felt.
One diary entry still echoes in my mind, smuggled to me before it was erased from the record:
"I woke up in his shoes again today. Literally. They were too big, worn down at the edges, like he runs a lot. His friends thought I was sick — I didn't know their names. I tried to play along. I think I made him look like an idiot. I'm sorry. I'll do better next time."
And from the counterpart:
"She left notes in a notebook for me. Rules. Don't say this, do say that. I thought it was stupid at first, but… the truth is, I look forward to reading them. I like her handwriting. I don't know why."
They were building a bridge. Across miles, across dreams, across lives. Each exchange made it stronger.
Until the day it broke.
██/██/20██ — the Collapse Event. Both Subjects reported it in fractured detail:
A sky splitting in two, twilight and dawn burning at once.
Structures tearing apart like paper lanterns crushed by unseen hands.
Crowds fleeing in silence, their screams smothered as if underwater.
And above all, a grief so sharp it lingered even after waking.
One phrase kept surfacing, scribbled half-legible through tears in both their logs:
"Don't forget me."
When the Foundation intervened, we severed the bridge. Forced amnestics. Separate containment. Clinical interviews. The dreams shortened, then faded.
Now, they live apart. Oblivious. The logs encrypted, the data sealed. Connection cut.
But I can't forget.
Because sometimes, when I close my eyes, I see it too — a fading thread stretched thin across an impossible sky.
And I wonder if we destroyed something we were never meant to touch.
Recovered from Unauthorized Memo – Field Researcher █████