The SCP Experience - Donna and Deborah | SCP-2464

Episode Date: September 5, 2025

A man sent to repair a mysterious machine in an abandoned farmhouse stumbles into a nightmare of shackled sisters, a dead scientist’s legacy, and a terrifying illusion that blurs the line between his daughter and a monster waiting to kill him. This story was derived from ⁠⁠https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2464⁠ and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. ⁠⁠https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/⁠⁠ * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 17. Listener discretion is advised.  #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The guard barely glanced at my badge before waving me through the final gate. Good luck! I nodded and stepped into the tunnel, unsure what I'd see on the other side. I'd already been through five checkpoints, but nobody told me what to expect. My questions were met with blank stairs, or worse, looks of pity. The boss's instructions were clear. Find the machine, ensure it was working, and fix any minor issues. What do I do if it's not working?

His eyes darkened, and he looked away. Make sure it is. My footsteps echoed on the cold limestone as I walked towards the light in the distance. The tunnel widened, and I stepped into an endless wheat field. The stalks stretched far and wide over rolling hills, only interrupted by the derelict house about 50 meters from the tunnel entrance. Even though I entered the tunnel at noon, the sun was low in the sky, almost sinking beneath the earth.

It lit the wheat with an orange glow like a sea of fire. I paused for a moment to take it in. The air was clean and fresh, and the only sound was the gentle sway of the stalks. It was beautiful, but there was something off about the stillness. There were no birds in the sky, no insects buzzing around, and the house loomed ahead like a big black spot. It sat there as if waiting for something with baited breath.

as if waiting for me. Curtains covered every window of the two-story farmhouse, hiding whatever was inside. The porch steps creaked under my weight as I knocked on the door. I wasn't really expecting a response, but it seemed impolite to enter a home without announcing my presence. I hesitated, taking deep breaths in and out. My tool bag was heavy on my shoulder, but it was strangely comforting.

Buck up, Michael. My wife spoke in my head, and I could almost feel her pushing me forward. She'd always been braver. I often wondered if she'd be better suited to my job than I was, but she didn't have the mechanical skills. That was my domain. I was the one my little girl turned to when she needed a toy fixed. I was the one who built her a tree house and taught her how lights work,

and I was going to be the one who entered this house. The door opened with a nasty screech that echoed through the space. base. It was followed by a soft thumb from upstairs. I froze in the doorway, but the house went silent. The air was stale and musty, a direct contrast to the outside. Sunlight filtered through the doorway, highlighting cobwebs in corners and dust motes in the air. The floral wallpaper was peeling away, filing in curls along the rotting floorboards. A long hallway lined with photos led to the staircase. Most of the frames were cracked or had fallen to the floor. Only one remained intact, obscured by a layer of grime. I wiped it away with my sleeve to reveal a family

portrait of a husband, wife, and twin daughters. The toddlers clung to each other with big smiles on their faces, rivaling only that of the proud father. It reminded me of the family portrait we took when Melanie was a year old, except we couldn't get her to smile for anything. Sarah and I were beaming while our poor daughter sat there with a scowl. We laughed about it now, but Sarah had been disappointed at the time. This was the kind of photo she wanted. Everybody smiling, everybody happy. The perfect family.

But every family had its secrets. I tread softly up the carpeted stairs, where a faint whirring sounded from a nearby room. Toolbag at the ready, I entered the space. It took me a moment to adjust to the dark. darkness. A queen bed sat in the corner. A little girl lying on top of the faded floral duvet. She didn't stir when I stepped beside her. Her eyes were closed, and her black hair was sprawled across the pillow. She was pale, but breathing steadily as if in a deep sleep. She might have been

a young sleeping beauty, but her mouth was wide open. Her arms and legs were stretched to each corner where rusty iron shackles held her in place. I pulled away in revulsion and nearly tripped over one of the tubes connecting her to the machine. It hummed steadily beside her, a strange black box with a series of tubes that climbed upward. They hung in the air, some full of bright red liquid, others full of black. They seemed to pulse with life like a beating heart. But only one was attached to the girl on the bed, red blood flowing from her arm and into the conduit. I followed the trail of tubes up to the ceiling,

and there hung another girl. I cried out in horror, but couldn't tear my gaze away. Her dark hair draped limply over her face. Like the one on the bed, she was spread out and tied with shackles. Her mouth was also open, and a viscous black liquid dripped from her lips. One drop bulged, heavy, and then fell directly into the mouth of the girl on the bed. I finally turned away, and a shudder ran through me. What the hell was this?

The only other object in the room was the leather journal. The cover cracking with age. The pages were yellow, and the writing had faded, but it was still legible. Property of Dr. Banning, do not remove from this room. The name was familiar. He worked at the foundation back in the day as some kind of scientist. He died when his house burned down, but clearly it still stood. But did he?

Goose bumps ran up my arms, and I quickly turned to the doorway. But no one was there. I gazed at the girls, at the machine doing who knows what. They were a far cry from the toddlers in this photo, but they were the same little girls that their father had smiled so broadly for. No, Dr. Banning was not here. He would have been here if he could have. I flipped through the pages, eagerly scanning them for a clue about what was going on. The journal entries detailed the lives of his daughters, starting from funny things they had said or done, but quickly becoming darker.

September 7, 1966. Donna was angry today and pulled on Deborah's arm. I could have sworn the thing came clean off, but when I blinked, it was as if nothing had happened. Donna walked away, but Deborah wouldn't stop crying. May 23, 1969. Donna was locked in her room for a timeout, but when we went to release her, she was gone. There was no way in or out. She came home hours later, covered in strawberry stains, and wouldn't tell us how she escaped.

July 18, 1971. Mary knows something is wrong. We can all see the way she treats Deborah compared to Donna. I've tried talking to her about it, but she won't listen. I'm worried for her. The next entry was only a few words. Mary is gone. The following pages were filled with mathematical and scientific equations accompanied by sketches.

It was an outline for the machine in the room, detailing how it was created and what it could do. I couldn't understand most of it, but on the last page, in a hurried scrawl, the doctor had written, Keep her alive. I discarded the journal and took a closer level, look at the machine. Most of it was clearly old, but certain pieces had been updated one by one, just enough to keep it going. All I really had to do was make sure it was running, and it was.

Technically, my job was done. I could get out of this creepy house, but my eyes traveled upward, and I looked at the girl again. She must be Deborah, the poor sister, who got mixed up in things she had no business being involved in. And below her, Donna, the sister who ruined everything. It was ironic how they were now tied together, existing but never living. I moved closer to the bed and gazed up at Deborah so I could see her face. Her eyes opened. I nearly jumped out of my skin, yet I couldn't look away. Her eyes were blue with a hint of green around the pupils, just like my Melanie.

She looked at me in anguish, and a tear slid down her cheek and landed with a soft plop on the bed. below. My heart constricted in my chest. The longer I looked, the more like Melanie she became. Her hair shrank back, turning silky golden blonde and revealing more of her face. Her white skin turned into a summer tan, her cheeks filled out, and her nose shrank into a button. And there she was. Melanie, strapped to the ceiling like some kind of freak show. Her lips didn't move, but I could hear her voice all the same. Help me, Daddy. It had been too long since I'd heard those words. I loved my little girl with all my heart, but she was her mother's daughter. Daddy, please. She struggled against the shackles, but they didn't budge. Donna remained

still as death below her. I'm coming, sweetheart, I'm coming. The tool bag was lying on the floor where I left it. I rifled through the contents, looking for anything that could cut through the shackles. Hurry, daddy. With a frustrated groan, I upended the bag and sent the contents spilling around the room. A pair of bolt cutters slid to the wall with a thud. I grabbed them and turned back to Melanie. The shackles were thick but rusted with age, which would make them easier to cut through. The bigger problem was how to get her down once she was free.

Just one minute, Melanie, I'm going to save you. I turned my focus toward the still unconscious Donna. I didn't want to touch her, but there was no other option. Melanie's whimpers spurred me on as I cut through the shackle trapping Donna's foot. It opens with a clang, and I held my arm. and I held my breath. When the girl remained motionless, I moved on to the next one. By the time she was free, she still hadn't moved. Almost ready, Melanie. I sat down the bolt cutters and gently scooped the girl into my arms. Her skin was cold, and she weighed almost nothing,

as if she were filled with stuffing rather than organs. My skin crawled where it met hers, and I wasted no time placing her on the floor beside the machine. Then I turned to my daughter. I climbed onto the bed and stood on unsteady legs to reach her. I cupped her cheek and wiped away her tears with my thumb. I'm here, darling. Daddy's here. I made quick work of the shackles binding her neck and torso before moving onto her limbs. Her right arm dangled uselessly in the air as the iron ring clanged open. She slumped forward, and I caught her by the shoulder.

I struggled to keep her upright as I released her foot. Hold on to me, baby. Almost there. She clutched my shoulder with her free hand. Her grip tightening as her other foot fell free. One more, darling, one more. With a final clang, the last shackle popped open. I held my little girl to my chest as we fell onto the mattress, my tears falling onto her head.

I got you, baby, you're safe now. I sobbed in relief and rocked back and forth with her in my arms. My eyes were closed as I ran my fingers through her hair, but the strands weren't short and silky like they should have been. and the little hands that had gripped me tightly weren't doing so anymore. I couldn't even feel the rise and fall of her chest. Melanie? I opened my eyes and pulled back to look at her.

The girl in my arms wasn't Melanie, and she wasn't breathing. Deborah was limp, her skin, paler than ever. The tubes that connected her to the machine had been ripped out, and now lay on the floor, releasing their fluids along the floorboards. I froze, my gaze traveling along the ground to where I had placed. placed Donna. She wasn't there. The hum of the machine suddenly faded away, and I was left in complete silence. What have I done? I roused myself from the bed and placed Deborah where Donna had been. Black liquid dripped from the corners of her mouth, and I wiped it away with the hem of my

shirt. Her eyes were slightly open, revealing dark brown irises that were a stark contrast to her translucent skin. I gently closed her eyelids and tucked her hair. behind her ears. This girl was not Melanie, but she was a daughter all the same. She was young and helpless, and I had failed her. I gripped her hand in mine as tears fell down my cheeks. I'm so sorry. What have you done? The voice was low and cold, sending a chill through my bones. I turned to find an older gentleman in a lab coat standing in the doorway. His eyes were a light with fury and panic. He was vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place him. You can't. You can't killed her. His eyes traveled to Deborah, and his whole face softened.

My baby girl. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just... Just what? I shook my head, gazing between the man who should have been dead and the girl who was not my daughter. I think I'm going crazy. Dr. Banning smiled before vanishing into thin air. I stumbled to my feet, nearly tripping over the tools scattered across the floor. I absently picked up a hammer, it's familiar weight providing a strange comfort. My breath came in short gasps as I struggled down the stairs. I paused at the bottom, a creaking sound diverting my attention. I wasn't alone.

I followed the sound of the living room, where Donna sat in a rocking chair. Her eyes were dark like her sisters, and they sparkled with glee. That was fun, wasn't it? I don't understand. Donna rolled her eyes. Fathers are so easy to manipulate. but it seems mine was a little too smart for me. Not you, though.

One look at those baby blues, and all reason goes out the window. I like that. I almost feel bad for your daughter. I frowned. What do you mean? Why should you feel bad for her? Only one of us is going to make it out of you're alive, mister, and it's not going to be you.

She stopped rocking and pulled out a knife from behind her. I was already running before she stood up. I slammed open the front door, and dashed into the wheat fields. Thankfully, the cave entrance wasn't far. As long as I could make it through, I could sound the warning, and the guards could close the gates before she escaped.

I could still fix things. Fifty meters to go. Thirty. Twenty. Ten. High-pitched, locked or echoed through the field around me. Wheat stalks scratched my face and arms as I sped up my pace. But when I glanced up at the field.

the cave entrance, it was gone. The house was gone, too. There was nothing but wheat in every direction. Catch me if you can! Donna shouted somewhere nearby, as if this were nothing but a game of tag, rather than life and death. Wheat stalks rustled to my left, but when I looked, there was nothing there. A solitary black hair waved in the breeze like a taunt. Panic settled over me. What if I got stuck here forever? Donna, please, just talk to me. We can work this out. That's what my father said, right before he chained me up and knocked me out. A brown eye peaked between the waving wheat, but it was gone in a flash. I won't do that, Donna. I can help you get out of here.

My voice was weak and brittle. The hammer was still in my hands, but could I use it? Even if I managed to catch the girl, she was just a child. She was a victim, too. I had failed, Deborah, but maybe I could save Donna. It's okay, Donna. I'll keep you safe. Donna suddenly appeared before me. The wheat stalks between us, miraculously gone, replaced with feet of empty space. She glared at me, her gaze narrowing on the hammer in my hand. I don't know that.

I don't know what's out there. It's okay. You can trust me. I crouched and tossed the hammer onto the dirt between us. She hesitated. I gestured for her to drop the knife. She slowly raised her hand. She dangled the knife between her fingers.

No! In the blink of an eye, Donna was right in front of me. Knife pointed at my chest. I yelped and ran away, but I no longer faced endless wheat fields. I ran smack into a concrete wall. My nose crunched and blood gushed down my face. I turned around to find myself in a concrete box. Donna smiled in the corner, eyeing me like prey.

I raised my hands. Donna, please! She didn't seem to hear me. She rushed me with a knife, and I dodged just in time. The knife scraped along the wall, leaving a deep scratch. Her eyes were wild and had turned completely black. She lay out a manic scream. She was no longer a little girl.

She was a monster. I took a deep breath. Be brave, Michael. Do it for Sarah. Do it for Melanie. I lunged at her and caught her wrist. She growled, struggling in my grasp. I shoved her against the wall, and her grip loosened.

I whipped the knife from her hand. It was now or never. I had her pinned to the wall with my forearm. Her chest heaved up and down, her breath rattling in her throat. Do it, she whispered. I raised the knife. Do it, Daddy. I stumbled back as Melanie looked at me, tears in her eyes.

I dropped the knife in horror. She smiled softly and stepped towards me. It's okay, Daddy. I raised my hand to wipe her tears away. She leaned towards me, as if going in for a hug. I didn't see the knife until it was in my chest. I fell backwards, landing with a thump on the concrete floor. Pain erupted along my tailbone. My vision swam. Donna crouched beside me. She still looked like Melanie,

but I knew better now. Stay with me. Donna nodded. She grabbed my hand and held it as blood spread across my front, tripping onto the ground. She whispered in Melanie's voice. My breath came in strangled gasps. I love you, Melanie. My little girl's face was the last thing I saw, as my surroundings collapsed and I faced eternal darkness. SCP 2464-1 is a hidden temporal spatial anomaly within the Morris limestone mine in Indiana, accessible only by removing a stone slab that conceals its entrance. Inside lies an endless field at perpetual dusk, dominated by a decaying 1960s farmhouse where three anomalies reside in the master bedroom.

SCP 2464-2, a shackled, unmoving 12-year-old girl with an open mouth, SCP 2464-3, her emaciated identical twin, suspended from the ceiling and dripping a black liquid into her sister's mouth, and SCP 2464-4, a deteriorating machine created by former Foundation researcher Dr. Michael Banning. The device is designed to halt SCP 2464-3's agent. but has caused severe tissue denigration and cancers. With its failing state, expected to lead to SCP 2464-3's death

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