Doctor Who- Suicidal Sin

Prolouge

The Doctor felt the pain within his hearts as he watched Rose disappear. He fell to his knees as tears broke through the dam. The water dripped out of his eyes and down his face. He slammed his foot into the TARDIS console, feeling all of the emotions form into one. The anger, sadness, hope, fear. All of them swirling, creating a tornado in his head.

The Doctor felt as if the tornado had become loose. The wind spiraling around him, violently shaking the TARDIS. He fell to his knees, watching the gust of emotions send cracks through the circles on the walls. He balled his hands into fists and felt the wind ruffle his suit and his hair. He wanted this to be over. All of the pain, the suffering.

The Doctor saw the storm disassemble, but not until it shattered one of his clocks. Without the storm, he still never felt safe. He watched the clock hands continue to move, but their color began to change from black to a dark red. There was a dark liquid dripping off the arrows, dropping onto the console. Without even having to walk over and examine it, The Doctor knew it was blood.

The Doctor saw the hands of the clock slowly stretch out, continuing to the attached to the clock. He swallowed, feeling his throat scratchy and dry. He coughed softly and continued to watch the arrows as they looped around the TARDIS, looking like a ribbon. His hazel eyes continued to track the black lines as they approached him, speed quickening. He drew in a sharp breath, feeling the pain as the arrows pierced his skin, one on each wrist. He hated the blinding feeling, but he was not planning on stopping it. He deserved this...for all of the heart breaks and pain he had inflicted on others.

The Doctor watched the arrows maneuver themselves into a zig-zag pattern. He drew in a shaky breath. The blood that had originally been dripping off of the clock's hands was his. He fell to his knees, breathing heavily. The clock was retreating. He continued to pant, because now if time was attacking him...was he still attacking himself?

The Doctor sensed the blood bubbling and dripping from the cuts along his wrists, yet his limbs were numb. He had felt the pain slowly ebb away, leaving nothing. He drew in a shaky breath, slowly pushing himself to his feet. He looked down at the blood-covered TARDIS floor with a sigh. The Time Lord turned and slowly walked out of the console room, into the hallway. He continued to walk down the path, until he came to his door.

The Doctor reached his hand out to open the door, surprised to find it locked. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver, slightly slippery within his bloody fingers. When he got a firm grip on the device, he pressed it against the metal door handle and pushed the button. The familiar noise came from the screwdriver as he unlocked the door. He walked in, but stopped when he heard the sot sound of crying. He rubbed his temples. all the Time Lord wanted was to relax and forget about what had just happened. With a small sigh, he walked over to where the sound was heard, the bathroom. He was surprised to see the door open, but what shocked him more was that he saw himself standing at the sink, knife in hand, blood on wrist. He watched himself shed tears, as well as blood. His hazel eyes looked into the sink, where blood was pooling at the bottom.

The Doctor wanted nothing more than to reach out and stop himself, but he knew he couldn't be seen. This whole world was a dream, yet he felt everything that the other one did. He felt the searing pain as the duplicate continued to tear at his wrist. His breath slowly became uneven as he felt the ghostly blood drip down his arm. He pulled back his sleeve to reveal nothing. No cuts, or deep, red liquid.

The Doctor struggled bearing the immense pain, breathing out a soft sigh of relief when the duplicate put down the knife. The man who had cut himself cleaned the blood out of the sink and off the knife, before putting it back in its rightful place. He drew in a shaky breath as he washed his tear stained face. He walked out of the bathroom and almost instantly collapsed on his bed.

The Doctor watched himself fall asleep, which meant that he was waking up. His eyes scanned the room, watching it slowly begin to fade.

The Doctor blinked open his eyes. He felt the cold sweat drip onto his bed, off of his neck. His hearts were beating fast as his mind continued to race. The dream had obviously frightened him. He had never felt as if he was so depressed that he would end up becoming suicidal, but maybe that had happened once or twice. He had never actually cut himself, but he had felt as if something had to be done. He had wanted to die. Wished and craved being dead.

The Doctor wiped his neck with his hand. As he did so, he checked his wrist to see of any visible scars or current wounds. None. He released the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

The Doctor's mind wandered once again to the thought of actually being suicidal. He had only believed that death was the way to go after Rose. He had lost a love in a horrible way. If she was still in his universe then it would have probably been easier to deal with, but that never changed the true fact. Rose was gone.

The Time Lord sat up in his bed and hugged his knees. He leaned his head on top of his knees and closed his eyes, trying to calm down his mind. When nothing could keep him from remembering, he got out of bed and quickly changed into his suit. He tied on his Converse and walked out of his room, hoping that a walk around the TARDIS could clear his head.