The Beginning of the End (Doctor Who)

Chap. 30

In your room you immediately throw your jacket on a hook, place your still-bloody knife on a nightstand and throw yourself onto your bed. After screaming into a pillow you throw a vase full of crimson roses at the wall, relishing in the sound of breaking glass.

It's the first outburst you've had in a while. Weeks of built-up frustration and anger pour out as you rip a pillow case open, feathers going everywhere. Satisfied and exhausted, you collapse onto your bed, not even bothering to change as sleep takes over.

"Tell me about your planet." You walk through the forest next to the Master, Missy on the other side.

"What's there to tell? Two burning suns in the sky, dusty orange sand all around the citadel, home of the Time Lords." The Master spits out the words, distastefully.

"What happened?" You inquire, sensing an underlying hate in his tone.

"Eight years old, looking into the whole of space and time. They implanted the drums in my head, driving me to be used for their own purpose." He explains, getting angrier.

"Sounds lovely." You sarcastically remark.

"900 years of insanity."

"Excuse you, are you saying I'm not utterly mad?" Missy pouts. The Master slightly smiles, shaking his head.

"No dear, you're absolutely insane." You dramatically say, she smirks in approval.

Everything swirls around you, the explosions, the running. The feeling of pure adrenaline. It would be perfect, if it weren't for the slips of familiar dark purple fabric just out of reach.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

You jolt up, a tad warm and breathing heavily. The lights go from pitch black to a dim. Your bedroom door opens, the Doctor walking in. She flinches at the sight of rose petals, broken glass and pillow fillings scattered across your room.

"You alright?" She perkily asks. You glare in return.

"What do you want?" You sigh, not happy she interrupted your 'dream.' It's somewhat more of a memory, at least the first part.

"Came to see if you were alright. You sorta slipped out on us." She paces around, kicking feathers. You notice she's wearing a bumbag, to which you roll your eyes.

"Just fine." You answer in a high-pitched voice.

"Doesn't look fine." She observes the room's state.

"Fine now." You insist, standing on the opposite side of the bed.

"What happened? Did you hurt yourself?" You follow her gaze to see her looking at your still blood-stained knife. "Where'd you even get that?"

You smile, amused.

"I killed a man." You casually answer, picking it up and running a finger over the blade, picking off the dried blood.

Her face goes from worried to disappointed and cross.

"Who? When?"

"Don't care, or know, and when do you think?"

"I wish you'd see the value in life, Y/n. Everything is so individual and unique, it's a gift. Please, don't do this again." 

Your head falls onto your shoulder, growing a bit bored.

"Gifts can be given and taken, just think of me as the Grinch, but without the happy ending." You tut, tying it onto your calf.