《Fragile》SCP-049 x Injured!Reader

《Chapter One》

You quite liked your English class. Whether you were a fan of the subject or not, you found yourself particularly enjoying this period of the day. It had especially been a massive breath of fresh air after your surgery. The teacher was understanding when you showed up a few minutes after the tardy bell and even let you leave early so you could get to your next class on time. Most of your other teachers, well... let's just say they couldn't care less if you were burning alive; a late is a late.

Your best friend was in your English class, which was just the icing on top of the cake. Ellie Morrison, a petite girl with wavy hair the color of warm butterscotch: your ride-or-die since seventh grade. Well, to be brutally honest, the only "riding-or-dying" the two of you ever do is staying up late on FaceTime... and, of course, the semi-erotic fanfiction you both wrote together on Google Docs Freshman year.

Not your proudest moment, by far.

But, awkward moments of your past self aside, you found your mood rising with every step closer you got to English. The brace on your right knee clicked quietly as you walked; you still had the slightest indication of a limp, but, according to your physical therapist, it was getting better. Good thing, too, because English was the farthest you had to walk: it was located in a makeshift portable on the farthest side of your High School.

If you had to come up with cons, that would really be the only one.

Your classmates were all quietly chattering amongst themselves when you came in through the door, your teacher not anywhere in sight. It was strange, he was the type to always be on time and punctual, but you just shrugged it off, thinking nothing of it. Making your way to your desk next to Ellie, you slung your backpack off your shoulder and carefully lowered yourself into your chair, minding your knee, just as the bell rang.

Still no sign of your teacher.

You had a weird feeling swirling in the pit of your gut, but just put it off as your easily-triggered anxiety. Ellie's voice caught your attention as she started to ramble on about something or other, so you turned to listen.

Two minutes passed since the bell rang, and your English class was still teacher-less. Three minutes... four minutes... five...

"Are we supposed to have a substitute today or something?" You finally voiced your concern to Ellie, the uneasy feeling having never left.

Your friend furrowed her brows, contemplating before she answered, "I'm not sure. I saw him at carline this morning, I have no idea why he's late. Maybe he got sick?"

You nodded silently in response, the unease still not leaving. By now, the rest of the class had also taken notice of the lack of adult supervision. Half of your classmates were darting their eyes around the room, concern evident in their gazes; you met the glance of someone from the other side of the room and they mouthed, "What's going on?" silently, which you responded to with a shrug, just as clueless as them.

Then, a collective buzz filled the room, and you felt your phone vibrate against your thigh. Reaching into your uniform skirt pocket, you pulled out your mobile device and saw an alert flash across the screen; it almost appeared to be a government-issued warning.

"Emergency broadcast in progress, this is not a test," a robotic voice boomed, its voice coming from the collective speakers of all your phones. "U.S. government officials have advised all students and faculty members of any schools in the immediate area to stay indoors and keep away from walls at all costs." Your eyes locked with Ellie's, and you saw a look of sheer terror glaze over them. "You may see men armed with guns wandering your campuses. Do not engage with them. They are here to protect you from a threat on a national scale—"several of your classmates started to sob—"Teachers, proceed with standard active shooter protocols. Keep your students quiet and your classrooms dark."