13 Novella 4

Last

TW: Rather graphic sexual assault

Your hand hovers over the knocker while you try and convince yourself to do this.

You hated this very building, and once this was done you would never return. But you needed to do this.

You weren't doing it for him, after all.

If Missy did get her way, The Doctor wouldn't let her travel anymore and you would have to say goodbye.

You've said that enough times throughout your life already.

So, with your breathing pounding in your ears, you knock twice and not very loudly. You feel panic rise as he approaches on the other side, and you bite your cheek to ground yourself, wincing at the sharp tang of blood and sore flesh on the inside of your mouth. He swings open the door and stops, staring at you in silence.

"(Y/n)?" His voice cracks, and you nod. You didn't really have a way to explain this one. Of course, you were supposed to be dead.

"Can I come in?" You ask with a shaking voice and he nods, stepping aside. Palms clammy, you keep him in your eyesight at all times. Same rules still apply. He leads you to your table, still so familiar.

"How- how are you here?" He asks hushedly, and you decide on your plan.

"I came to warn you. You need to get away. There are people coming for you" you say and he grunts angrily.

You flinch.

"They've already bloody been! Marching round with their noses in the air, saying some crap about child protection." He grunts, then looks at you closely.

"How the fuck are you here?" He says and you sense his impatience. He doesn't like not knowing.

"I'm- I'm leaving too" you say wildly. "That wasn't really my funeral" you say randomly and he raises his eyebrows.

"Don't... don't you lie to me. I saw it. I was there. Was that some sort of trick you little bitch?" He hisses and you scrape your chair back loudly.

"You need to leave. As soon as possible. There are people coming for you" you repeat and he stands.

You gulp, a panic attack threatening to engulf you.

"Hold on right there. You don't get to come in here telling me what to do, now I asked for an explanation, and you are damn well going to give me one!" He says, standing too.

You back away instinctively and he laughs humourlessly.

"You're not going anywhere. What do these people want then? Is it you? Cos I'll give them you" he says with a wicked smile.

"No really, I just came to tell you-" you start in a terrified squeak.

"Nobody is going to tell me what to do in my house!" He bellows and you duck as he throws a mug at your head. It misses, but only just.

"NOW TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON YOU LITTLE SLUT!" He thunders and you turn to run for your life. You hear him pounding along behind you and reach for the handle, pulling open the door only to have him slam your fingers in it then drag you into the main room, screaming in pain.

"TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON!" He spits, pinning you done on the floor, arms above your head.

"Please! I don't know I don't know!" You cry and he bites your shoulder, making you scream impossibly louder.

He clamps his hand over your mouth and you panic, now unable to breathe. He is breathing heavily, and pulling at your top. Realising what's happening you try to roll away, but he is too strong.

He rips open your shirt and pulls down your jeans, all the time you try to bite his hand and make any noise at all. He slaps you so hard you feel dizzy, only registering the dull sound of a zip.

You close your eyes as you feel the first thrust, tears soaking out your eyes, sobbing and snotting over his iron grip hand.

Again and again he goes, while you whimper each time, taking longer than usual to detach yourself from your senses. You're out of practice.

Eventually though your mind leaves your body, floating up and leaving your eyes blank and staring, staying that way long after he has released you and is creaking around upstairs, slamming a door somewhere.

You blink, moving one small limb at a time starting with your fingers. At least one is broken from the door. You pull yourself up, retching at the sensation from your lower body.

You dress as though in a dream, hearing dull thuds from above.

So he was packing after all. At least he would get away from Missy.

You stand, swaying, hair mussed and face blank. It would stay that way for a while now.

You've been much longer than the twenty minutes you intended to be, and so, feeling as though you were made of lead, you open the door with your good hand and step out into the cold air.

You begin to walk, wincing at the pain.

Your mouth is open but you don't bother to close it.

You reach out to the banister and somehow make your way down to the ground floor, leaving through the parking lot.

You should have expected it, and should have been prepared. And you should be dealing with it better. It certainly wasn't the first time.

Unable to contain yourself, you vomit onto the pavement, earning disapproving looks from an elderly couple opposite.

You walk in slow motion all the way back to the graveyard, spotting the blue box of sanctuary in the distance. You couldn't do it. How could you do it? Missy would kill him.

You needed to sort yourself out first, but realise pretty quickly that that is near impossible. And so, upon reaching The Tardis, you knock shakily on the door and wait for it to open.