The following instance of SCP-XXXX-1 manifested in the right hand of D-5647 on January 4, 2019. D-5647 is a 35-year-old Mexican-American male with a history of violent crime including a quintuple homicide. D-5647 was raised by a single mother, who committed suicide in 2004.

Hey, son. I hope you enjoyed my masterpiece.

What's that? Why am I calling you "son"? Might as well tell you: I'm your daddy— that's right, I'm the man who brought you into this world. Of course you wouldn't know this, but I'm also an accomplished artist, and you just witnessed my magnum opus. That demon you saw represents yours truly. And that woman I was fucking?… Yep. Your mother. Guess you could say I'm one sick motherfucker, eh?

August 7, 1983. The day your story began. Remember that time. Burn it into the back of your brain.

You never knew me, but your mother did, and sweet mother of Satan did she fall in love with me. Her parents begged her not to, said she shouldn't get involved with a thug like me, but she dropped out of school— she forfeited her education, her future— just to spend more time with her man. Too bad for her my love only reached as far as my dick. She was always talking about settling down, having kids together, but I wanted none of that shit. I was fucking hoes left and right behind her back, and that's how I liked it. Why would I commit myself to such a dumb, worthless bitch, let alone have some stupid kids? But one day, she showed me that I fucked up— somehow, I had gotten her pregnant.

The news was all it took. I kicked her out that instant. I never looked back for one fucking second.

She was fucking devastated. Know how close she was to just ending both of you— a coat hanger and a bullet to the brain? It would have been better for you, the way you ended up. You became a lowlife thug, worse than your daddy ever was, and you broke your poor mama's heart even further. That family of five you slaughtered, that life sentence you got? That was the last straw. She couldn't take the torture of being your mother anymore. Two nights after you went into the slammer, she hung herself. That's why she never visited you; you killed six people that day, and your mama was one of them!

Now you're in this shithole, processing the truth that has just been laid out so brutally in front of you. Are you proud of yourself, son? Your life's as good as over at this point; it's only a matter of time before these crazy scientists feed you to some chamber that crushes you, or some hole that digests you, or some murderous Eldritch abomination. Even if you escaped these nutjobs, you'd just fall right into the cops' waiting hands and spend the next century rotting in a jail cell.

So there you go. You're a mistake, you're a menace to society and now you're locked up in some secret lab in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, in line to be "terminated" or fed to some Keter. You grew up without a father… not that it would have made a difference. But at least now you know why he wasn't there.

Your mother, Daniela Ruiz, (2/1/1964-7/15/2004), was laid to rest at ██████ Cemetery in █████████, California after you murdered her. You should go pay her a visit, if you can break out of this shithole somehow.

On the other hand, I, Saúl Barragan (born 9/4/1963), am currently posted up at 5013 █ ██████ ███ ██ ███, ███████, California, 9████. Maybe you can try to add another 100 years to your sentence. I'll be ready for you, son.

Your dad,

S.B.

June 6, 2006