The SCP Experience - Forgetful Felix | SCP-909

Episode Date: June 27, 2025

After a deadly encounter in a rain-soaked alley, a man cursed with forgetfulness confesses to murder—only to realize no one remembers the crime but him. This story was derived from ⁠⁠https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-909 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. ⁠⁠https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ ⁠⁠ * * * DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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DePas B'Bas Bonanza, DePos Minimimimumne, de course responsibility conditions apply. It was a stormy evening at the end of April. Felix rushed through the rain, eager to find somewhere safe and dry to spend the night. He cut through an alleyway without noticing the strange figure looming in the shadows. It wasn't until the figure spoke that he realized he was there. Well, well, look who it is. Felix looked behind him, but there was no one there. A man

had to be talking to him. I'm sorry, do I know you? This was the wrong thing to say. The man snarled and walked out of the shadows to grab him by his collar and shove him against the brick wall. Felix gasped as the breath was knocked out of him. The man's ugly face was mere inches from his head as he said. I thought I told you not to come back here. Felix squirmed in his grip, but he was no match for the brute. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. I'll just go now. The man laughed, sending a waft of whiskey into the air.

I already let you go once. It's not going to happen again. You won't be leaving my alley without payment this time. I don't know what you're talking about. I've never met you before. The fingers gripping Felix's throat tightened. Do you think I'm stupid? No. No, of course not. I just mean, never mind.

That's what I thought. Now pay up. What, what do you want for me? Well, since I'm a nice guy, I'll give you two choices. You can either give me your wallet and that fancy watch on your wrist. The man paused for so long that Felix could no longer bear the suspense. Or what? Or you die. The man finished as he brandished a knife from his belt.

Felix stared at the blade, now dripping wet, but certainly sharp enough to cut through his meager flesh. Logically, the choice was obvious. Felix would have ripped the watch off in an instant, but he couldn't. His heart pounded in his ears as he tried to think of a way to explain this to the man. It won't come off. The man backed away in surprise, but maintained his grip on Felix's neck. What are you talking about? Felix held up his arm.

Go ahead. Try it. Is there some kind of trick? The man snarled. No, look. Felix grasped the watch on his wrist, but no matter how hard he tugged, it remained stuck to his skin. He flinched as the man did the same thing, nearly ripping his skin off in the attempt. He scraped at Felix's arm, trying to pry the watch away with a knife, but the no event. The man growled in frustration and threw the knife to the ground to get a better grip.

Finally, he concluded that he wasn't going to be receiving the watch. What about a wallet? You got one of those? Um, sort of. What do you mean, sort of? Well... Felix slowly reached into his back pocket to show the man his wallet, which was connected to his pants with a string. He opened it and quickly looked away to avoid seeing the man's face.

The man's eyes lit up as he saw the hundreds of the world. as he saw the hundreds of bills in the wallet. He stuffed his fat fingers inside, and his howls of rage told Felix that he had tried to take them. What the hell is this? Felix grimaced. The money doesn't come out. I know, I've tried.

The man tossed aside the wallet, and it dangled uselessly at Felix's side, still attached to the inside of his pocket. Felix gulped. This was not going well. Please, I can give you something else. Like what? Anything.

But there was really nothing Felix could do or say to make the man less angry. Unless he came up with a stack of bills right now, there would be no appeasing him, and they both knew it. Looks like I'll just have to kill you, then. The man smiled, his teeth flashing white in the darkness. Everything happened quickly after that. The man loosened his grip on Felix to bend down and retrieve the knife. Felix squirmed from his grasp and booked it down the alleyway, but the man was faster than he'd assumed. Felix was tackled to the wet pavement, and he struggled against the bulky man atop him.

The knife was between them, and they each fought for purchase. The blade was pointed at Felix, but the shaft was wet, and the man lost his grip. Felix saw his chance and seized the knife, jabbing it forward and into his enemy. The man groaned and went still. Felix pushed him away, breathing a sigh of relief. But now here he was, in the middle of nowhere, covered in blood, standing above a dead body. Felix did the only thing he could think of to do. He ran.

The police came knocking on his door two days later. Detective Benza was on the case, and he was eager for any easy success. His last case had not gone so well, and he was heading downhill fast. But this one was open and shut. There was no doubt Felix was their man. Felix opened the door with a puzzled look on his face, but that didn't mean anything. The guilty always pretended to look innocent.

He didn't say anything as he was handcuffed and read his rights. He had a smirk on his face like it was all a big joke. But the smirk disappeared when he was led to the car. What's going on? As we've already explained to you, you are under arrest for the murder of Rowan Jackson. Who? The young man leading him to the car side. Rowan Jackson.

We'll talk more about it at the station. For now, please get in the car. Felix sat in the car, but he didn't place his legs in yet. Do you think I killed someone? Detective Benzo watched him with cold eyes. We know you did. What? This is crazy.

I don't even know this row whatever. You've got the wrong man. The detective chuckled. That's what they all say. I know, but this time it's true. Felix's face was turning red now. There was no hint of violence about him, but he was desperate, and that could lead to danger. Get in the car.

Now! Felix's eyes widened, and he did as he was told. Benzo exchanged a knowing smile with the young officer as the door closed on his frantic pleas. The detective sighed. Sometimes it seemed like all criminals were the same. Felix was driven to the station and led to the interrogation room. Since he was a murder suspect, his hands remained in cuffs, which were chained to the table. He was given a glass of water and left to wait. But wait for what?

He looked around the stale gray room. Unbeknownst to him, Detective Benzo watched him from the other side of the two-way mirror. Felix didn't speak, but the confused look never left his face. His brows were creased as he tried to piece together the events that led him there. He jumped when the door finally opened almost an hour later. Who are you? Where am I? As I said to you before, I'm Detective Benzo, and this is my partner, junior detective Mary Skinner. We're here to talk to you about the death of Rowan Jackson.

Who is that? The detective didn't blink an eye as he sat down opposite Felix, while his partner took the chair beside him. Rowan Jackson is a well-known gang member from the inner city. We have reason to believe he was responsible for multiple deaths and burglaries. Oh, isn't it good that he's dead then? The detectives glanced at each other. Is that what you think?

Is that what I think? You think it's good that he's dead? That his death was just a good. Who's death? Rowan Jackson. Who is that? The man you killed. You think I killed someone?

Detective Skinner scooted her chair forward and observed Felix with interest. Felix, are you aware that you were under arrest? I'm under arrest? For what? For murder. Who's murder? Rowan Jackson, Detective Benzo growled. I'm sorry.

I don't know who that is. Fine. That's fine. let's move on. Where were you on April 25th at 11 o'clock in the evening? Felix frowned. There was a long pause, and the detectives waited patiently. Finally, Felix shrugged his shoulders.

I don't know. You don't know? That was only two days ago, Felix. Why don't you remember? Remember what? Benzo sighed. Where were you the night of April 25th at 11 o'clock? I don't know.

Skinner laid a hand on Benzo's arm, and he leaned back with a sour look on his face. Unlike Benzo, who spoke in a brisk commanding tone, she spoke gently as if to a child. Felix, why don't you remember? Were you drinking that night? What night? April 25th.

I don't know. Are you in the habit of drinking in the evening? I don't know. Do you take any type of drugs? I don't know. It's okay. You can tell me if you do. You won't get in trouble.

Get in trouble for what? Using drugs. I use drugs? I don't know, do you? I don't know. Is there anything you can tell us? Felix shrugged. The chains on his wrist rattled against the metal table.

No, where am I? That's enough. Detective Benzo leapt from his seat and kicked the leg of his chair. Then he rounded on Felix, his deep gray eyes boring into his face. He walked around the table to stand above him. Enough playing games, enough acting stupid. We're not doing that anymore, okay? Just tell us what you know about the death of Rowan Jackson.

Who is that? Benzo growled in frustration, the sound filling the small space like a presence. Skinner's eyes went wide and she coughed gently. Felix startled in his seat. Are you all right, sir? No, I'm not all right. Benzo's face was turning red. Skinner stood up now too.

You know what? Why don't we take a break? We'll be back in a bit, Felix. Felix remained still as she ushered Benzo from the room. He continued examining the space with the same confused look he had before. Out in the hallway, Detective Skinner tried to calm her partner down. It seems like he might have some mental issues. Maybe we should get him checked out.

Benzo took a deep breath and shook his head. No, I don't think so. He's messing with us. This is all some kind of game to him. Well, if it is, you're letting him win. You need to calm down. I am calm. He snapped.

Skinner raised an eyebrow. Benzo stared at her for a moment before letting out a sigh. He scraped his hand along his face and turned away. Fine. You're right. I'm going to get a coffee. RBC Training Ground has discovered potential in over 20,000 Canadian athletes and counting. Your story could be next. If you've got the drive, they'll help you find your path to the Olympics. Let's see what you've got.

Sign up for free at rBC training ground.ca. They reconvened in the interview room 15 minutes later. Benzo's face had returned to its regular hue, and he was determined to remain calm this time. Felix looked at them curiously as they sat down but said nothing. So, Felix. But Benzo got no further than that before Felix interrupted him. How do you know my name? Who are you?

Benzo plowed on as if he hadn't heard him. You can deny your involvement all you want. want, but we know you were in that alleyway on April 25th at the time of Rowan Jackson's death. Who? Again, Benzo ignored him. We have DNA evidence to prove it. We can convict you with or without a confession, but you will be doing yourself a favor if you tell us everything you know, and it'll look good for you in court if you do. Court? Why do I have to go to court? Skinner responded this time. Just to remind you, Felix, you are under arrest for the murder of Rowan Jackson. But I don't even know who that is.

I never murdered anybody. But you admit that you were in the alley on the night he was murdered, April 25th at 11 o'clock? What? No. Benzo leaned forward, his voice low and threatening. Felix, we know you were there. We know you interacted with Rowan Jackson, and we know you killed him. I've never killed anybody!

Felix's jaw dropped, and his face was wild with fear. It seemed genuine. But Benzo had seen plenty of excellent actions. actors pass through those walls. Maybe it was an accident, suggested Skinner. Maybe you didn't mean to kill him, and you panicked when you did. Is that what happened? No! I've never killed anybody!

Felix, your fingerprints were found on the knife. Your DNA is all over the body. We have no doubt you were there. Are you suggesting Rowan stabbed himself? Benzo added. Felix cocked his head and stared between the two detectives. Who stabbed himself? Rowan, replied Skinner.

Is that what happened? Is that what happened when? Benzo sighed and shook his head. Let's try something else. Is your name Felix? Yes. And you were born on March 15, 1998? Yes.

What do you identify as? A white male. What else can you tell me about yourself? Um, I like to ride my bicycle. I work at Walmart. I'm allergic to peanuts. My parents are dead. What else would you like to know?

Where were you the night of April 25th at 11 o'clock? I don't know. Have you ever met this man? Benzo flipped through a file and placed a photo on the table. Felix glanced at it for a moment before shaking his head. No. Then how do you explain the fact that your fingerprints were on the knife embedded in his stomach? Felix gasped and reeled back.

What? I have no idea! Benzo leaned back and stared at Felix. Felix held his gaze. his eyes giving nothing away. Nobody spoke. The only sound was the clock ticking away above the two-way mirror. Benzo hoped his boss

wasn't on the other side. This wasn't looking too good for him, but he was going to get a confession. He was sure of it. He would break the strange man in front of him, one way or another. Felix suddenly broke the silence. What am I doing here?

Why am I in handcuffs? You tell me, responded Benzo. I have no idea. I have a hard time believing that. Who is this? Felix pointed to the photo on the table. You tell me. I have no idea.

We're getting nowhere with this. Skinner mumbled to her partner. Benzo gave a slight nod and leaned forward to place his elbows on the table. What about this? How about I tell you what I think happened? And you tell me if I'm right. Or, better yet. He pulled out a blank statement report from the file and placed it before Felix.

along with a pen. Why don't you write it out? Felix nodded. Okay, I can do that. Benzo smiled. Great. I think that you went down the wrong alley on the night of April 25th. You were probably drinking,

and it was dark when you stumbled into Rowan Jackson. He threatened you, and for some reason, probably the alcohol, you decided to take him on. There was a struggle. You fought for the knife, and suddenly Rowan was dead. You panicked and fled the scene.

failing to report it to the police. Did I miss anything? Felix was frantically writing as Benzo was speaking. When he reached the end, he paused. It suddenly all came rushing back. The pouring rain, the whiskey on the man's breath, the weight of his body as he tried to stab Felix, the blood, the blood streaming from the wound covering Felix from head to foot,

and the sound of his footsteps as he fled. Oh my God! He looked up at the detectives. Comprehension dawning on his face, quickly followed by horror. You were right. I did it. Did what?

Benzo blinked, confusedly between Felix and Skinner. I killed Rowan Jackson. Who? Felix's heart sped up as the magnitude of what he had done washed over him, like the rain on that fateful night. Rowan Jackson, okay? I admitted. Everything you said was true.

I killed him. I'm sorry. Who is Rowan Jackson? Skinner asked, looking politely perplexed. What do you mean? You were just asking me about him. This guy, right here. Felix lifted the photo of his victim in front of his face and waved it in the air. Benzo grabbed the photo and studied it for several moments. Felix's foot tapped against the floor, and his chains rattled in reminder of his criminal status.

You say this is Rowan Jackson? And how do you know him? I didn't say that. You did. And I don't know him. I just ran into him like you said. You ran into him and you killed him? Why? It was an accident. It happened just like you said. He was threatening me. We got into a scuffle, and the next thing I knew, he was bleeding all over the place.

And when did this happen? Felix groaned in frustration. He didn't like whatever game these cops were playing. April 25th, see? He pointed to the witness statement. Benzo turned to Skinner. Do we have any reported murders for April 25th? No, not right now, sir.

But, but you already found him. You have his body. You said you have the knife. What knife? The knife that killed him. Felix was shouting now, and the detectives leaned away from him. Sir, I need you to calm down, Benzo said. Whatever's going on here, we'll figure it out.

Just take some deep breaths. Felix did as he was told, but it did nothing to quell the frustration and horror swirling in his chest. Please, you need to lock me up. I'm a murderer. Sir, I think you may be having some kind of episode. Would you like an officer to take you to the hospital? Skinner asked. No, I don't need the hospital. Felix stared at the detectives, and it dawned on him that no matter what he said, it wouldn't matter.

They didn't believe him. And nothing he said could change that. I don't need the hospital. He repeated calmly. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I think I just need to go home." Skinner nodded.

We can arrange that. The same young officer who transported Felix to the police station brought him home. He walked out a free man, but not in spirit. Now that Felix remembered what he had done, he would never forget it. Rowan Jackson might have been a gangster, but Felix was a murderer, and that was so much worse. He tried as hard as he could to forget that stormy night, but not a day went by that he didn't think. of it. He cursed his creator, Doctor Wundertainment, for making him forgetful Felix. He wouldn't exist without the doctor, but maybe that was better than what he was dealing with now. Maybe if

his watch came off, if Bills came out of his wallet, he would have walked out of that alley with Rowan still alive. Maybe if he remembered things, he could have cleared the situation up with the police. It was an accident after all. He wasn't a cold-blooded killer. It never made sense to him and why the doctor would create a being that forgot things, let alone one that caused others to forget things once written down. It was his curse to live with, and it had never felt as horrid as it did now. He would forever remain forgetful Felix, but he would never forget his worst memory. SCP 909 is a young adult Caucasian male with permanent and terra-grade amnesia,

unable to form new long-term memories, except through an anomalous ability, when he writes about an experience, still in his short-term memory. It transfers to his long-term memory, but is simultaneously erased from the memories of everyone else involved. He is aware of his condition, allergic to peanuts, and was discovered at an undisclosed sight.