Soul's Shadow (Doctor Who - SI)

Part VIII (V)

Numbly I followed the Master to another office room. This one, too, was filled with all sorts of alien tech, but I felt no more desire to touch any of it. A vague fear was occupying most of my thought, a fear that, as I realized, wasn't even real.

Hypnotism.

The longer this word lingered in my awareness, the more it gnawed its way to the forefront. It wasn't as if I didn't know what it meant, my mind only refused to grasp its meaning, so I would stay under its influence. However, even knowing what it did to me didn't help, didn't break the control or dispel the tightness in my guts. Barely did I realize how the Master pointed at two other rooms. One was a small bathroom, the other a kitchen.

"You can keep yourself clean and fed. Don't dare and bother me with any of your pesky human requirements."

I simply nodded, already dreading the hours to come. There would be boredom, there would be thoughts, there would be a constant fear of what might happen to me.

The Master bent down a little, tapped on my head four times and grinned at me. "I'll see if I can find the Doctor and if I can..." He chuckled to himself, hinting at nothing good.

"Why have you sabotaged the TARDIS when you don't want him near you?" I dared to ask, my hands, however, starting to shake from the fear of having gone too far. A reaction that reminded me by far too much of the time I had been literally crippled by social anxiety.

"I haven't."

Perplexed, I blinked up at him, unsure if it was a lie. Would I say the wrong thing, he might get mad and hurt me. And it was always so incredibly easy to fall into that trap. One word, one look, a single involuntary movement of my body, all of it had the potential to be interpreted in the wrong way. Because what made sense to me often seemed to be downright insulting to others. Even when it only was not to look them in the eyes long enough.

The pleased expression on the Master's face told me it was the right thing to keep quiet. Or was it what my mind read into it, doused in fear as it was. I watched as he turned and left the room, drawing the door close almost carefully.

Again. Again it felt as if I had experienced something like this before. The familiarity was uncanny, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not recall what might trigger the feeling. Instead I sat in one of the office chairs - a big, comfy one with armrests - drew my knees up under my chin and wrapped both arms around them.

Would he find the Doctor? Would he hurt him? Had I doomed the other man to his certain death? Would his blood, figuratively, soak my hands? What would happen to myself? Would the Master just keep me as some sick version of a toy? Would he hurt me? And if so, how?

Deliberately I took some deep breaths, inflated my lungs and held the air for some seconds, before slowly exhaling again. I repeated the process, over and over again, usually a great method to ground myself and get calm.

Now, it would not work.