The SCP Experience - If I Let Go of Her Hand, I Die | SCP-7031

Episode Date: October 2, 2026

The Foundation discovered a woman who can survive the impossible—but there’s one rule no one fully understands. If you’re holding her hand when death comes, whatever you do…don’t let go. Listen ad-free + get access to exclusive bonus stories with a 7-day FREE trial of⁠ ⁠SCP Premium⁠⁠ — Cancel anytime. No commitment. This story is derived from ⁠The SCP Foundation Database⁠ and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0.⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/⁠⁠⁠ Author:  Jake Bible * * * 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 18. Listener discretion is advised.  #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Dale, or D95372, as he's called at the site, isn't quite sure what the meat part of the meat and three dinner he's delivering is, but he has a feeling ignorance is bliss. Better not to know what doesn't concern you. He and the other D class in his dorm had fried chicken for dinner. It was a rare treat on this foundation site, that's for sure. Usually it's hot dogs or some variation on a hot dog-related dish. But the square brown slice on the many trays he's wheeling down the corridor bears no resemblance to hot dogs or hot dog-related food items.

It looks like it was grown in a lab, and considering what goes on in the foundation site, Dale would not be surprised if it turned out to be lab grown. He'd seen worse around here. The first containment chamber has a thick iron door with a small window at the top, and the ubiquitous covered slot opening in the center. Dale stops at the door and knocks with two knuckles. Dinner, please stand back and wait for the food to be delivered and the slot to be closed before approaching. Dale calls out.

There's some grumbling from inside. Then a quiet shout. Failure to comply with the protocol will result in the loss of food privileges for this meal in the next two. Understood? There's a second shout followed by some muffled cursing. Dale smiles and slides the slot door aside. He sets the tray on the inside shelf on the other side of the slot, then slides it closed. Please present the empty tray by lights out. Thank you.

As he walks off, pushing the food card to the next containment chamber door, he hears the occupant of the first chamber yell a question. He can't quite hear it clearly, but he's more than certain the guy is asking what the hell that slab of meat stuff is. Dale would yell the same thing. Dale moves on, serving the next chamber. and the next chamber, and so on until he reaches the end of the corridor in the last chambered door. The door isn't thick iron like a few of the rest, nor is it high-tensile titanium like most.

It's just a door. Metal, yes, but not reinforced or thick, or filled with inert gas or cursed by a bog witch. Not that Dale believes in bog witches. He just heard from one of the other D-class personnel that the foundation isn't afraid to employ bog witches when you. needed. Not that they are truly witches, the other D-class said. Just anomalies that have made a deal with the foundation to cooperate in exchange from freedom on the outside, and not containment in a chamber in a site like this. Dale wishes he could be so lucky. He hasn't seen past the site grounds in almost a decade, not since he was 18 years old and got nicked from a local jail after being locked up on suspicion of arson. Arson that killed an entire family on

Christmas Day. But Dale doesn't like to think about that, so he shoves it from his mind as he knocks on the containment chamber door. Then he slides open the slot and sets the food tray on the inside shelf before sliding the slot closed again. Um, hello? A young woman calls from the other side. Can I ask what this is? Dale isn't supposed to speak to the anomalies, except for the official instructions regarding mealtime protocols. His job is to serve them their trays and move on. A different D-class will come by later to collect the empty trays, or partially empty trays. Dale has a feeling there will be a lot of slabs of brown square meat left on the trays tonight. He turns his cart around, ready to head back to the cafeteria.

Hello? Please. What is this crap? Is it me? Is it dried and molded pew? Dale laughs, then covers his mouth. He looks to the corners of the corridor and at the always-watching security cameras. He clears his throat, hoping his little chuckle doesn't get him in trouble. Then he keeps pushing the cart down the corridor as the young woman in the last chamber calls after him. When Dale returns to the cafeteria and logs his meal deliveries, he can't help but notice a man in a suit on the far side watching him. Not an unusual occurrence. Suits show up all the time. The damn place is run by suits.

But this one sure is focused on Dale, which is making him a lot. little nervous. Dale looks down at his orange jumpsuit. Did he spill something on himself? Is his jumpsuit torn? Did an anomaly attach itself to him and only the suit can see it? It's happened before, more times than he likes to think about. No, nothing on him that he can tell. The suit stares at Dale for several seconds. Dale tries to ignore the guy and just cleans up his cart so we can head to the recreation room and maybe play some foosball if there isn't already a stupid long waiting list. After wiping down the cart and tossing the rag into the bucket of bleach water, Dale looks up and the suit is gone. With that, he breathes a little easier,

finishes up his tasks, then confirms with his supervisor that he can leave for the night. The next morning, with a breakfast card in front of him and one of the wheels squeaking mercilessly as he pushes it down the corridor, Dale can't help but worry about the suit, staring at him. Luckily, the guy wasn't in the cafeteria this morning. Dale steals a glance at a security camera and shakes his head. He did something wrong, but he isn't sure of what. He serves each containment chamber like he did for dinner, receiving almost identical complaints about the breakfast quality as the dinner quality.

At least the eggs look like eggs and the bacon looks like bacon. Although there is a weird smell coming off the bacon, so Dale does wonder if it is actually Pork bacon. Maybe it's turkey? He really hopes it's turkey. He doesn't want to think of the alternatives. When he reaches the last chamber, he slides open the slot and sets the tray inside. Hi. The young woman says, I'm... Don't tell me your name, Dale says. Please. Why not? They don't like it. Can you tell me your name? I'm D95372. That's not a name. Yeah, it is. I'm D95372. you are SCP 7031. That's not my name. It is in here. What does SCP mean anyway? I'm not sure.

The foundation guys like to say it. A lot. Dale taps the tray. Take your food. Eat up. Stop trying to talk to me. I don't know why I'm in here. They mess with my head, I think. I feel drugged half the time. The door at the far end of the corridor slides open. The suit from the cafeteria steps through, followed by two fully armored and geared up security guards. Oh man, you really screwed me, Dale says. D-95372, step away from the containment chair. The suit says, as the two guards lift their carbines and take aim. Now!

Oh, crap, this was such a good gig. Why'd I even respond? He looks up at the ceiling as if someone above him can help, but he knows he's on his own. Step away now! The suit shouts. The guards pull their bolts and chambermen. rounds in their carbines, making a big show of it. The clacking of metal echoes through the corridor.

Then the other anomaly starts speaking up from behind their containment chamber doors. They yell for Dale to stick it to the man, to never give up, and to not show an inch of fear to these monsters. None of the outbursts are particularly helpful. The suit shouts over the din of protests. Dale shakes his head and takes a step away from the young woman's containment chamber. Then he stops and looks down at his arm. arm. SCP 7031 has reached through the slot and grabbed his wrist. Please, please, you have to help you get out of here. I don't even know why I'm here, she cries. The suit is true to his word. He had given his last warning. With a flick of a finger,

he indicates for the guards to open fire. The bullets tear through Dale's orange jumpsuit like it's made of tissue paper. He bucks and jumps and shakes as round after round rips into his chest, his abdomen, even his neck and head. The lights go out for Dale. It's all black. He doesn't even get a high-speed montage of his life flashing before his eyes. He just dies. Easy as one, two, three. When his eyes flick open and he sits up gasping, the first thing he hears is the suit talking to the guards. The second thing he hears is the young woman saying, I knew it would work. I flippin' knew it. Dale has a feeling that SCP-7031 knows a little more about her situation than she's letting on.

Uh, sir, a guard says. Dale blinks and rolls his head on his shoulders. He looks down at his orange jumpsuit. Not a single hole anywhere. No blood, no nothing. Just that strawberry jelly stain near his left breast pocket from early in the morning. Other than that, not a mark on him. Then he looks back up and sees the suit staring at him and grinning.

Will you look at that? The guy says. Then he turns as a table. attention to SCP-7031's containment chamber. He nods at the guards. Bring both of them to observation room Theta 1, sir. A guard asks, looking for his partner for help. Um, that room is... I know what the room is. Do as I say. Now. There is no extra hesitation. One guard grabs Dale and yanks him up onto his feet, while the other guard unlocks and opens SCP-7031's containment chamber and pulls her out into the corridor.

Hi. She says to Dale. Um, hi. He replies, completely unsure about what all just happened. I'm Emma. D9. Dale. No names.

What are you two thinking? Do you want to get tossed into the incinerator? Try it. Emma says. The suit steps up and gets right in her face, having to lean down a little since he's a good six inches or more taller. The two face off, each glaring hard. Dale opens his eyes wide. opens his eyes wide, his attention going back and forth between the two of them.

Um, hey, how about we take things down a notch? Shut it, deep-class loser! One of the guards yells and slams the butt of his carbine into Dale's belly. Doubling over, Dale oofs hard, then falls to one knee. As the guard goes to pull him up by the arm, Emma suddenly whips her attention away from the suit and grabs the guard's sidearm, pulling it from the holster. With her other hand, she grips the back of Dale's neck.

As Dale's ears go numb from the explosion of gunfire, he feels bullets rip into him for a second time this morning. He has not gotten used to the feeling one bit and cries out, blood spurting from his mouth as his body falls backward onto the corridor's industrial tile. This time, when he comes to, he's strapped and shackled to a gurney being wheeled down a brightly lit corridor. He turns his neck to the left, and a nurse smiles at him. He turns his head to the right and is surprised to see a second gurney rolling along with him. On the second gurney is Emma. She's strapped and shackled, too. Hey, he croaks.

She rolls her head to the side and smiles at him. Hey, no talking, a stern voice parks. Dale recognizes the suit instantly, but can't see him. He must be following behind the gurneys. The corridor jogs right, and before he knows it, Dale is rolled into a large space, painted immaculately white, with lights so high up and so bright that he can't. see them and has to turn his head to the side so as not to be blinded. Emma's gurney is wheeled

up next to his. Then Dale's right wrist is unshackled, as Emma's left wrist is unshackled too. Neither of them hesitates before taking the other's hand. The nurse and attendants then re-shackle their wrists, but use the opposite Gurney's shackles, essentially connecting them to each other. Clear the observation room, the suit orders. The nurse and attendants leave immediately. Yeah, hello? Dale calls out. Quiet, D-95372. His name is Dale, jerk.

Emmis Spitz. Quiet, SEPB. 7031. Oh, bite me, dickhead. Dale smiles at Emma's fierceness. The suit chuckles. We'll see how tough you are after today. The door to the observation room slammed shut. Then a low hum starts up.

Don't let go of my hand. Emma says quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the growing hum. No problem. Dale replies. No, I mean it. When you are with me, never let go of my hand. Does this mean we're dating? Dale laughs nervously. That was a joke. I know. I'd laugh, but I think things are about to get very bad for both of us.

How bad? I don't know for sure. They mess with my head after these sessions. Oh, that's not good. No, it's... Dale and Emma's heads explode. Splattering skin and hair and gray matter all over the eyes. immaculately white observation room. A bright red laser scanner fans across every surface of the space, logging each minute bit of material from skull fragments to ear cartilage. The scanner turns off and the room is silent except for the occasional drip and plop of a bit of brain or clump of scalp.

Three minutes pass. Five minutes pass. Ten minutes, 20, 35, 46. At 58 minutes, the splattered material begins to shudder and shake. At 61 minutes, large chunks start sliding across the walls and floors, followed by all the smaller chunks than the minuscule bits of organic debris. At 73 minutes, Emma's and Dale's heads are completely intact again. Dale gasps and tries to sit up, but he's still strapped to the gurney, so he just ends up straining his neck. Emma gasps, but lies there. Her eyes staring straight up into the endless brightness of the unseen ceiling above. What just happened?

Dale asks. No talking. The suit's voice booms over a speaker, somewhere hidden in the observation room. I don't think I can die. Emma replies, and if you hold my hand, neither can you. A different voice calls out. Dale figures it's a text somewhere watching all this safely in a room a few doors down. Fire fills the room.

Not orange and yellow fire, but almost completely blue and white fire. The flames are so hot that Dale feels the oxygen ignite inside his lungs before he's engulfed and burnt to a scorched hunk of charcoal. When he gasps, awake again, he's still on the gurney, all straps and shackles in place, his hand still in Emma's. The door to the observation room opens, and a third gurney is rolled in and set on the other side of Emma out of Dale's view. But he can hear the person on the gurney crying and pleading for them,

for anyone not to do this. Please do not do this. Please, please, please. Dale recognizes the voice. It's D4861. He thinks the guy's real name is Toby, but he's not sure. They've worked together in the cafeteria a few times. Dale is unshackled from Emma, and his gurney is wheeled away.

He looks at her, his eyes filled with panic. The same panic is reflected back at him by Emma. Hey, stop! Leave me in here with her! Dale shouts, but he's ignored. Instead of being wheeled into the corridor, he's taking. into a small room where he can hear text chatting. Then the suit's face appears over him. Time to see if you're special. The suit says. The door is closed and Dale can no longer hear Toby's pleas. Proceed. The suit says. The same tech as before counts down from three. Dale

can hear nothing coming from the observation room. Then a tech or two gasp. Interesting. The suit says. I think we have another anomaly on our hands. Instant sir. A text says. A text says. Not a separate anomaly. He requires physical contact with SCP-7031. Are you sure? Yes, sir. The only way to truly know is to put D-953-7-2 in the room alone and activate a kill test. But if he isn't a separate anomaly, then he'll be dead in seconds. Well, we don't want that to happen. Too much promise for these two. The suit hums and huffs. Okay, putting it back in. Let's turn it up a bit. See how far we can take this.

Yes, sir. Dale is wheeled out of the side room and back into the observation room. He instantly smells scorched flesh and his stomach goes sour. It does not smell like barbecue. As some D-Class on the cleanup crews say a human body smells like after being thoroughly burned to charcoal. It smells like death and fear and regret. Bile starts to sneak past his throat, but he swallows hard and breathes through his mouth. Hey.

Emma says, completely unharmed. Hey. replies. You okay? I'm fine. The other guy isn't. Dale can barely see attendance moving about the space. He cranes his neck up and watches as a totally melted gurney is lifted and carried out of the room. Dale turns his head away when he catches sight of the barely human remains on the gurney. Looks like you're special, Emma says. First time anyone has said that before. For five days straight, eight hours a day, Dale and Emma are subjected to horrendous, violence and cruelty. They are melted by plasma, dissolved with acid, vivisected repeatedly.

At one point, the suit comes in and explains the definition of death by a thousand cuts. Then they are dismembered, little piece by little piece, until the lights go out. Uranium poisoning, drowning, multiple weapons fired at their heads, chests, groines, every part of their bodies, knives, saws, massively heavy weights. If it can kill, they are tested with it. Then the tests are modified, and Dale is handed items to hold while being tortured and murdered over and over and over. The suit is pleased with the results.

He doesn't say why. Dale doesn't really expect him to. After two weeks, Dale finds himself no longer in the observation room, but standing in a locker room, the suit, and eight guards glaring at him. What's going on? Dale asks. The suit shakes his head and puts a finger to his lips. Dale shuts up and waits.

And the locker room door is opened, and Emma is walked in. They smile at each other, and Emma reaches for Dale's hand. Guards step between them. Get dressed first, the suit says. Now. A tactical uniform is handed to them both, then everyone waits. Blushing bright red, Dale unzips his orange jumpsuit and gets dressed, keeping his eyes averted as Emma does the same thing.

Once, properly outfitted, the suit walks over, picks up Dale's orange jumpsuit, and tosses it in the train. You are now instance 7031-1, Dale Robards. The suit says. Instance? Like I'm part of what she is? Yes. It's more complicated than that, but yes.

What now? Emma asks as she laces up the heavy-duty combat boots she's been given. The suit smiles. The what now turns out to be a cave high in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Dale and Emma stand at the mouth of the cave. It calms peace in each of their ears comes to life. 753s proceed and deformed as to what it looks like. Do not return from the cave without the item.

You are useless to me without the item. You will be sealed alive in the cave if you fail. Yeah, we know what we're doing. Dale replies. Do we? Emma asks. Not even a little bit. They step inside the cave.

The smell hits them immediately. Dale tries to think of what it reminds him of. But then Emma says, It stinks like the snake house at the zoo. That's it. Dale instantly pictures tank after tank of large snakes and other reptiles. They keep walking, and as they get deeper and deeper into the cave, the stench grows. But so does the temperature. Instead of the cave becoming cooler, it becomes stiflingly hot. When they come around the last bend, they both see why.

Is that? Emma asks. Yeah, they said it would be here. I didn't believe them. Dale and Emma stare at a massive dragon lying perfectly still. upon a huge mound of gold, precious gems, and other shiny objects, including a titanium lockbox that rests on its side by a pair of tarnished golden crowns. I see the item, Dale reports. Proceed.

The suit replies over the comms. Okay, let's do this, Dale says. He slips off his left glove. Emma slips off her right glove. Then Dale pulls a heavy-duty cylinder from his belt and slips his hand inside. Emma slips her hand inside as well, taking his hand into hers and the cylinder seals around their grasped hands. Then they walk straight for the lockbox. No!

A rumbling voice bellows. Why is it not? Before either of them can react, they are engulfed in flames. The pain is as bad as anything they have endured in the past two weeks. When Dale wakes up, he is staring straight into a pair of very large, very gold reptilian eyes. Emma is awake next to him. sitting cross-legged on the cave floor, smiling up at the huge dragonhead. Dale pushes up onto his elbows and realizes that he's still connected to Emma by the cylinder.

Their fingers clasped around each other's hands. He is awake, the dragon says. His voice a rumble of thunder. Smoke drifts up from his nostrils. Interesting. I told you, Emma says. I can't die. And as long as I hold his hand, he can't die.

Let us test that theory again. Before Dale can protest, he is engulfed in flames once more. This time, when he wakes up, he holds up his free hand and says, No more tests, okay? Can we agree on that? We can. The dragon says, Your female companion has informed me that you can, as she put it, do this all night long,

so I will not waste our respective time and let you pick up the lockbox and take it with you. Thanks. Emma says, For a price of crime. The dragon says and chuckles. Dale feels his eyebrows, synged off. No prices, the suit says over the comms.

Tell the little man in your ear to be quiet, or I will leave my cave for the first time in decades and devour him and that little toy thing he and the other men with guns are hiding in. Armored personnel transport, Dale says. I'll call it lunch. Dale shrugs. He looks at Emma. She shrugs. What's the price? Dale asks.

I want to see how it works. Dale frowns, Emma frowns. How do you mean? She asks. I want to watch and hold the lockbox while I flame you both to crispy bits. Then I want to watch the reset happen. If the man is still holding the lockbox

and hasn't been returned to my hoard automatically after he has fully reset, then you two are allowed to leave with it. And if he isn't holding the lockbox? I get to eat you both. I am very curious. what it will be like with you regenerating inside my belly. A perpetual meal is very intriguing.

Do not agree. The suit shouts over the comms. I warmed him, the dragon says, and begins to lift himself up off his hoard. No, no, we agree. Dale says, waving his free arm over his head. We agree. No, you do. The suit's voice is cut off as Dale rips the comms piece out of his ear and steps on it.

Emma does the same when the suit's voice explodes in her. as well. The dragon chuckles. Dale and Emma look at each other, nod, and then walk to the lockbox. Dale hesitates before picking it up. Then he kneels, grabs it with one hand while pressing the cylinder against it, and hefts the heavy item up, clutching it awkwardly to his chest with one arm. Before he or Emma can say anything, they are drowned in flames. The next time Dale comes too, he's lying on the cave floor with a lockbox resting on his chest. The dragon says, Fascinating. Now leave before I change my mind. Emma helps Dale to his feet, and they both hurry out of the cave.

The suit is waiting for them, outrage clouding his features. I should bury you both alive two miles below the surface of the earth. The suit snaps. Then his attention shifts to the lockbox. But you have achieved something that not a single mobile task force could accomplish in a decade. So I'll show you some mercy. You'll let us go? Dale asks. The suit laughs. So that's a no.

No. The suit continues laughing as the lockbox is taken away by a field operator, and Dale and Emma are both loaded into the transport. Back to the site? Dale asks. Emma shakes her head. Probably not. The suit grins as he sits next to them. He pats Dale's knee. No, probably not. Would you like to hear the next assignment? Do I have to? Dale asks, fear clutching his belly. Two miles deep, 7031-1. Dale sighs. He looks at Emma, she nods.

Sure, where to next? Dale asks, leaning back into his seat as the transport starts rolling. SCP 7031, formerly identified as Emma Charlton, is a 24-year-old human female of British descent measuring 1.65 meters in height and weighing 57 kilograms. SCP-7031's anomalous property manifests whenever it is fatally injured, immediately upon neutralization SCP 7031 will trigger a retro causal anomaly

which nullifies the cause and circumstances leading up to its neutralization. Thanks for listening. Be sure to click that follow button with all notifications on to get notified every time a new episode is released.