But the boy—a child transformed into less than a man—doesn’t listen. Behind him stand long shadows that reek of fire and blood, shadows that feed on fear and spew bullets. They drown out my pleas and whisper a single promise in his ear: that if he doesn’t kill me, his corpse will keep mine company.
One day I left home and never came back. Mom was the first to realize it with that terror that only a mother can feel when her instinct tells her that something terrible has happened to one of her children.
“Susana!” Mom screamed at my empty room, at the open door through which only absence entered. “Susana!” She screamed when the police officer, for the third time, couldn’t remember my name amid the lethargic silence emanating from the files piled like mountains of paper, within which the names of countless others withered away. “Susana!” She cried out to the indifferent, gray city, to the blind and deaf passersby wandering without recognizing one another, to the wastelands filled with barren soil and thorny weeds that hid from the all-seeing sun the answer to the single question overflowing from her wounded heart until it drowned her in tears: “Where has my little girl Susana gone?”
Mom never held out hope of finding me still alive; in the homeland of the dead, it’s best not to harbor illusions. But for a dead person to be truly dead and for eternal rest to be granted to her and her loved ones, first there must be a body—even if just a piece, a fragment—that says, “Here I am, and here I stay.” The body is mourned, venerated, and honored, and then it is given to the earth or to the fire so that the soul may go in peace and the living may be consoled that at least she is now at rest. What is a dead person without a corpse to serve as a witness? Nothing, not even the shadow of a phantom.
That is what they stole from my mother: the right to bury a daughter she already knew was dead, the peace of a grave bearing my name. That is what they stole from me: a final goodbye, the chance for my name to be spoken with love rather than despair. They reduced me to an eternal unknown—“Where are you, Susana?”—so my place is filled by a crushing absence when my family sits down to eat, and my memory is a wound shaped like me that follows them everywhere.
“Where are you, Susana?” Posters with my photo and personal details on every pole and wall in the city ask, but no one answers. I am just one more plea in this vast mass grave we call a country.
And yet, they could not silence me.
Item #: SCP-9345
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures:
SCP-9345 must be kept in a secure locker when not in use. All testing must receive prior written authorization from lead researcher Salomón Núñez. Test results must be logged and delivered to Mexican authorities through the Comisión Nacional de Búsqueda (CNB).
Description:
SCP-9345 is a severed human head and neck belonging to a woman identified as Susana Méndez Aguilar. Despite its current state, it exhibits no signs of putrefaction or decay. All samples collected from SCP-9345 regenerate almost immediately after tissue is removed; the limits of this regeneration have not been tested due to the value of the anomaly and concerns about inflicting irreparable damage.
SCP-9345’s main anomalous effect is triggered when a drop of human blood is introduced in its mouth. Upon “ingesting” the blood, SCP-9345 will become animated and speak despite damage to its larynx. For the duration of each interaction, SCP-9345 will acknowledge only the individual whose blood it has consumed, giving clear and concise instructions on how and where to find any missing relatives or loved ones; it will then return to an inanimate state until more blood is provided.
The machete’s blow is clumsy and brutal. One isn’t enough—not two, not three. In the end, that gaunt, hollow-eyed boy, clad in a bulletproof vest that’s too big for him, has to strike me five times before my head is severed from my body. All this time I’ve begged him, pleaded with him through my sniffles and tears to let me go, to have mercy and not kill me, because my mother and my siblings are waiting for me at home and they’ll be sad if I don’t make it home for dinner. What will become of them, who don’t know where I am and won’t understand why I left? Who will comfort my little sister Frida so she can calm down and fall asleep after having a bad dream? Who will sing with my mom as we walk back from the market to prepare dinner, or soothe her hands when her arthritis flares up, or clean the house when she’s tired from taking care of the rest of us? Who will help Sergio when he gets homework at school that he struggles to do? Who will tell them why I never came back?
But the boy—a child transformed into less than a man—doesn’t listen. Behind him stand long shadows that reek of fire and blood, shadows that feed on fear and spew bullets. They drown out my pleas and whisper a single promise in his ear: that if he doesn’t kill me, his corpse will keep mine company. This is what they’ve reduced me to: an initiation, a test for the rookie. His skinny arms raise the machete and bring it down on my neck again and again. With every blow, a thought assails me above the pain, above the fear.
One. Mom, forgive me for not coming back, for not saying goodbye. I didn’t know. How could I have known?
Two. Frida, don’t be afraid. The monsters you see in your nightmares can’t hurt you. The real monsters are here with me.
Three. Sergio, don’t be like them. Please, be someone else—someone good who doesn’t tear daughters away from their mothers or sisters from boys like you.
Four. God, please have mercy—if not on me, then at least on them…
Five.
They dismember what remains of me and cover me with lime and earth, abandoned among the cold bodies of all those who were sacrificed in this slaughterhouse that doesn’t even qualify as an altar—what god would come here to quench his thirst for blood?—in this desert where screams fade into the distance and our only witnesses are vultures and snakes. In the silence of my grave, I can hear echoes, lamentations, and pleas like my own, all destined for oblivion.
But in the background, almost hidden by the weeping of our souls in torment, I hear a whisper.
My daughter, have faith.
Discovery:
Discovery of SCP-9345 followed a surge in the identification of disappeared persons throughout México. On 12 September 2027, after being contacted by a group of madres buscadoras forensic services in 20 states announced they had identified nearly 13,000 human remains belonging to individuals listed in the Registro Nacional de Datos de Personas Extraviadas o Desaparecidas (RNPED). News of this development led to increased scrutiny of the Mexican government at both the state and federal levels due to their handling of the crisis of disappeared persons that has affected the country since the beginning of the Mexican war on drugs in 2006.
For the next five months, an additional 16,000 missing persons were found and identified in mass graves in the states of Sinaloa, Michoacán, Estado de México, Guanajuato, Sonora and Jalisco; a further 5,000 were found alive. Attempts by the Mexican government to claim credit for the discoveries were undermined by the madres buscadoras and other activist groups, who criticized the administration of president Claudia Sheinbaum and the state governments of the ruling party MORENA for their indifference to the plight of the Mexican population. This culminated in a violent confrontation at the site of a mass grave in the outskirts of Hermosillo, Sonora, during which the Mexican National Guard seized control of the site from the madres buscadoras, arresting ten of them and confiscating the anomaly now designated SCP-9345.
Initially believing SCP-9345 to be mundane human remains recovered during the madres buscadoras’ operation, Mexican authorities soon realized its anomalous nature and contacted the Foundation through CALMECAC. The Foundation took possession of the item and interrogated the leader of the madres buscadoras, Dionisia Ortiz, who agreed to cooperate in exchange for her and her fellow mothers’ release.
In the darkness of my burial, stripped bare and dead as they had left me, the whisper enveloped me with the tenderness of someone who coos to a sick child and hums a lullaby. Though I had no body, I felt it embrace me, and I wanted to return the embrace with the desperation that had marked my final moments of life—to grasp that warmth and hold it somewhere in my anguished soul so that at least death would not be only shadows and silence.
Susana, I am here. Everything will be all right.
In the eternal void, I saw a faint glow that gradually grew brighter as it emerged from the dust and darkness, a luminous silhouette that rose above the countless dead lying in the bowels of the earth and looked upon us with love and compassion. She was beautiful: cinnamon skin that glowed with the radiance of an inner sun, enormous obsidian eyes, and black hair so long and wild that it blended into the darkness surrounding her. She, our mother, mother of all of us and of our ancestors, had finally come.
She took me in her arms and wrapped me in her emerald cloak studded with stars, and then I could see that behind her blissful face lay a second, scaly skin—two enormous serpents sprouting from a mutilated neck, which, kissing each other in an endless embrace, formed the face of the one who had given birth to the gods themselves. Upon her breasts, saggy from nursing the powers of the cosmos, there was a necklace of severed hands and hearts offered to the sun; at the center hung her own skull, her own decapitated and fleshless head, which swore justice and vengeance for all of us, while the serpents forming her skirt rattled, announcing that we would never again belong to oblivion.
My mother, our mother, mother of all gods and men, mother of the universe, terrifying and loving, brought her double face close to mine and pressed her lips to my forehead. I felt the tenderness of her kiss, the cold of her hissing serpent tongues, and I knew what mission she was now entrusting to me.
Will you speak, Susana, for the dead who lie with you, for those who have not been found or named? Will you heal the hearts of the mothers and fathers who mourn the absence of their sons and daughters and give them the peace they deserve? Will you be my justice among the living and the dead?
“Yes,” I replied, and a pair of hands pulled me from the womb of the earth as if I were being reborn.
Interview Log SCP-9345.01
Interviewer: Agent Horacio Linares Jiménez
Interviewed: Dionisia Ortiz Sánchez
Date: 19/03/2028
Note: This interview was conducted in Spanish.
Foreword: Dionisia Ortiz Sánchez is a lawyer and human rights activist born in Ciudad Obregón, Sonora. She is the mother of two sons and a daughter; her youngest child Uriel Buenrostro Ortiz disappeared on 17 October 2016. Following his disappearance and the inaction of local authorities, she began searching for him independently and at great risk for her own safety, eventually forming the activist group Madres Unidas por Nuestros Hijos with fellow Sonoran mothers whose children had disappeared. Her son Uriel remained missing until 14 March 2028, when she identified his remains amongst those uncovered at the Hermosillo mass grave immediately before her arrest. SCP-9345 was found in her possession.
<Begin Log>
Dionisia Ortiz: You’re not one of them.
Agent Linares: Pardon?
Dionisia Ortiz: You’re not with them, with the National Guard. I can tell. They’re always so nervous, so anxious to find a threat that justifies pulling the trigger. But you, so calm and collected… You’re a Jailor, aren’t you?
Agent Linares: How do you know that term?
Dionisia Ortiz: Susana told us. She warned us you would come eventually.
Agent Linares: I’m sorry, who is–
Dionisia Ortiz: The head, boy! Or rather the woman to whom the head belongs. Are you telling me you came all this way for her but don’t even know her name?
Agent Linares: We… We usually find out things like this by asking, which is why we brought you here.
Dionisia Ortiz: Ask away, then. I’m not going anywhere, am I?
Agent Linares: That depends on your cooperation, which I’m starting to think will not be an issue. You seem rather willing to talk. Why is that?
Dionisia Ortiz: Susana told us not to resist. Besides, there is no point in hiding what I know. I have what I wanted, and selfish as that may be, I am at peace.
Agent Linares: Your son, Uriel.
Dionisia Ortiz: What is left of him, anyways. Just a skull and a femur, but it is him – I know it. Nearly twelve years of searching for him, and at last I found him. He was only seventeen when he went missing. Can you imagine what he’d look like now, nearing thirty?
Agent Linares: I am sorry for your loss, Dionisia. I know how hollow it sounds, especially coming from someone like me, but I truly hope that finding him – even like this – is enough for you and your family to close your wounds at last.
Dionisia Ortiz: Have you ever lost someone this way? Have you ever hoped with all your faith that they will hear them knock on the door, safe and sound, only to understand that they’re never coming back?
Agent Linares: I– yes. My brother… He disappeared seven years ago. He had gone out for a job interview and… I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m supposed to share any details like that.
Dionisia Ortiz: Then your words are not hollow.
There is silence for a full minute, occasionally broken by muted sobbing. It is impossible to determine whether it belongs to Dionisia Ortiz or Agent Linares.
Agent Linares: Let’s continue. You said that the head talked and told you not only where to find your children, but that we were coming. However, we know you were not the first madres buscadoras to employ its aid. How did you come across it?
Dionisia Ortiz: She was handed to us by another colectiva, Huellas de la Memoria. And they received her from Alianza de Madres de Michoacán. And they received her from… Well, you get the picture. It’s been some very busy months, and I doubt even Susana can recall how many people she has helped. But if you like to chase rumors, then it might interest you that some mothers claim Susana is a blessing from the Virgin.
Agent Linares: And do you believe them?
Dionisia Ortiz: I have never put much belief in saints and gods, but when you spend as much time amongst the dead and the grieving as I have, you begin to reconsider things. I found my son and many others thanks to Susana, and all it cost me was a little more blood than I had already shed; I am not going to question a miracle.
Agent Linares: I think I have what I need. This concludes our interview. Thank you.
Agent Linares stands to leave.
Dionisia Ortiz: Hijo… Your brother’s name, what was it?
Agent Linares hesitates for a few seconds, then answers.
Agent Linares: Carlos. His name was Carlos.
Dionisia Ortiz: I hope you find him. If you ask Susana, she will help you. She always does.
Agent Linares: Thank you, Dionisia. I mean it.
<End Log>
Afterword: Dionisia Ortiz and her fellow madres buscadoras were released following this interview; testing confirmed that the remains she identified belonged to her son Uriel, and she was allowed to take them for burial. Due to how widely knowledge of SCP-9345 had spread amongst activist circles, amnestization was deemed unfeasible, with mitigation measures consisting in framing the phenomenon as an urban legend or sensationalized accounts.
With the permission of lead researcher Salomón Núñez, agent Linares was allowed to test SCP-9345 to find his missing brother. The anomaly indicated that Carlos Linares was buried in a mass grave north of Uruapan in the state of Michoacán. This led to the recovery of both his remains and those of other 16 young men who are presumed to have been lured by organized crime members under pretenses of applying to a legitimate job, only to be used as target practice for the cartel’s recruits.
Further testing has confirmed the infallibility of SCP-9345. In total, remains belonging to 834 individuals have been recovered and identified since the Foundation took custody over the anomaly.
Foundation researchers determined SCP-9345 to have originally been Susana Méndez Aguilar, a twenty-three year old college student from Mazatlán, Sinaloa. The eldest of three siblings, she disappeared on 14 August 2026 while going to a nearby convenience store. Her disappearance was never properly investigated by local authorities despite pressure from her family members and community. An investigation is ongoing on how her severed head became anomalous.
Here lie all the nameless bodies, all those condemned to the anti-life that is being dead without a body to bear witness to it. Here are all those who were wiped from the face of the earth but refuse to be forgotten. Here are those who hear the lamentations of their loved ones and pray from the grave that one day they will be found to bring them peace, even if only by saying: “Mom, Dad, I’m dead. Don’t worry anymore.”
All of them dwell in the infinite memory of our great mother: the goddess with a skirt of serpents that whisper ceaselessly the names of the disappeared so that they may never fall into oblivion. And now I, having become the goddess’s voice, speak out loud for them. In return, I ask only for a little blood, just a few drops so that my withered tongue may taste the anguish and the love, so I may know where to find those whom the blood calls for and the soul longs for.
I comfort them all equally: the gentle and the hardened, those who have lost all hope and those who have never stopped searching. The pain of not knowing unites them all, and blood is the thread with which I mark the path they must follow to reach those who await them.
There will be others who want to stop me; this I know. There are always those who want to silence the voices of us who demand justice—sinister, heartless men who nevertheless fear being dragged into the light, where their souls are laid bare and the weight of their sins becomes unbearable. They will come for me and tear me away from my mission; they will lock me away where no one can hear me cry out for the disappeared. And yet, they will never silence me. The blood will never forget.
To all SCP-9345 assigned personnel:
For the past few weeks, many of you have voiced concern that our containment of SCP-9345 will be detrimental to the efforts of the Mexican civilian population to alleviate their ongoing crisis of disappeared persons. This is a subject that affects us deeply, as our entire research team consists of people who grew up in this country and personally know the horrors of the war on drugs. It is thus regrettable that the Foundation has decided not to allow further use of SCP-9345 in search and identification operations.
Although the Foundation has repeatedly stated that their reasoning for making this decision is that the missing persons crisis is of mundane origin and thus does not merit anomalous solutions, the truth is much more political: the Foundation is prioritizing its relationship with the Mexican government, whose official position is to minimize the gravity of the crisis and deny that it has indeed grown worse since the previous administration. After how big the scandal that led to the anomaly’s discovery was, the last thing the federal government wants is another sudden surge of human remains being uncovered and identified – especially without any governmental involvement.
In light of this, our best option has been appealing to the Ethics Committee and arguing that a discreet and moderate use of SCP-9345 can benefit the civilian population without compromising the Veil or the Foundation’s mission. Today, I am glad to report to you that the Ethics Committee has agreed to our position, and we now have full authorization to employ the anomaly, provided that what information we gain from it is delivered to the Mexican authorities through the Comisión Nacional de Búsqueda.
I want to thank you all for making our collective discomfort known and helping make our superiors look at the bigger picture. It is my hope that this sets a precedent for further action: the Foundation has long used certain anomalies to protect people from greater threats beyond the understanding of mankind – perhaps it is time we begin looking at ways of protecting people from threats that are all too human.
– Dr. Salomón Núñez, SCP-9345 lead researcher.
Addendum: Incident 9345.12
On 12 November 2028, at 02:42 hours, an unknown anomalous individual infiltrated SCP-9345’s containment and conversed with it in Spanish before absconding with the item. No alarm was triggered. The following is the transcript of their conversation.
▼ Close File
Video Log Transcript SCP-9345.12
<Begin log>
UNKNOWN: Hello, Susana.
SCP-9345: Ah, you’re here at last. She said you were coming.
UNKNOWN: You don’t seem glad to see me. What’s wrong?
SCP-9345: I… I thought I’d have more time. There’s still so many of them out there, so many people I have not yet found! I… I feel like it’s not enough.
UNKNOWN: [sighs] I know. That's the way it always is: there’s always something else to do, someone else who needs help and we never have time to fix everything. It crushes you, makes all the good you’ve done look so insignificant. But I would not be here if you had not done enough, Susana. Believe me, what you've done is more than anyone could ever ask from you. I know it, she knows it, and it is now time for you to receive the peace you have procured for others.
SCP-9345: Do you mean…?
UNKNOWN: Yes. It is time for you to go home. Your family misses you so very much.
SCP-9345: And I miss them too! It’s just that I…
UNKNOWN: Before you became her voice, others toiled and struggled and fought tirelessly, did they not?
SCP-9345: Yes, of course.
UNKNOWN: Then have faith, Susana. Have faith that once you are gone they will continue the fight. You should know it better than anyone. Look at what you have achieved here amongst the Jailors: hearts have been moved to do more than just keeping you locked up. Even if you are no longer here, there will always be brave people, people whose hearts will not give in to despair and who will never stop searching for the ones they love. Your mother certainly never stopped; I think it’s about time she gets the justice she deserves.
SCP-9345: You also miss someone. Or at least, you wish to see them again. I can feel it calling out from your veins.
UNKNOWN: I do, but I fear it would be selfish of me to ask when you have already earned your rest.
SCP-9345: Yet I think you deserve your answer. I’ve known it from the moment you offered me your blood: the one question that burns you through every waking moment.
UNKNOWN: …
SCP-9345: Please, allow me to do you this one final kindness. All you have to do is say his name.
UNKNOWN: Where is he, Susana? Where is Charles Gears?
<End Log>
Following this incident, the Foundation located Susana Méndez’s family and confirmed that a funeral had been held for her a few days after the anomaly’s theft. Exhumation of SCP-9345 revealed no further anomalous activity. Susana Méndez’s remains were subsequently reinterred and her grave restored. SCP-9345 is henceforth considered Neutralized.