Doctor Who- Suicidal Sin

Chapter 5-Explanation

The Doctor and Martha sat on the edge of his bed, while Jack knelled beside him, cleaning off his wrists. The silence that rung in the room didn't stand for long. "What was it?" Martha asked lightly, arm draped around the aliens neck. The Doctor shrugged, not wanting to say anything, secrecy clear within his eyes. "Please?" She pushed lightly. The Time Lord shook his head, ending her attempt. The silence returned, only to be filled with their soft breathing.

The Doctor's wrists were now wrapped in gauze, thanks to the tag-team Martha and Jack had created. During the whole process, The Doctor's gaze never wavered from the floor. He never wished to look up, feeling as if the world were holding him down, looking up could snap his neck. He could feel the shadows of the room practically squeezing the life out of him, trying to kill him as if the knife that he had taken to his own skin wasn't enough. This is why he wanted out, wanted away from the pain, destruction, depression, and...loneliness.

Jack was getting slightly irritated, but every time he reminded himself of the Doctor's emotions, he was quickly relaxed. He sat beside him while Martha had gone to the kitchen, hoping to get him to eat something. His arms were around the Time Lord's neck, forcing him into a hug. His chin rested lightly on the Doctor's head, hoping for him to mutter a word, or at least make a sound.

Martha came back into the room, cup of tea in hand. She sat down without a word and placed the cuppa within his hands. Thankfully, The Doctor lifted the cup to his mouth and took a small sip. He swallowed slowly, before a single tear dripped from his eye. "I'm tired of it. I...I want out."

"What?" Martha asked lightly, slightly confused by his words, but also inwardly happy that he had begun to speak.

Jack pulled his arms off of the Doctor and cocked his head, "What do you mean?"

"Life." He whispered before standing up. He shoved his hands within his pockets as he slowly walked around the exterior of the room. "Just think about it. Within every hidden crack, every darkened corner, every nightmare, all there is to life, hidden from sight, pain, sadness. This world was never created with the emotions known as joy or happiness, but it began with anger and sadness." His voice cracked with his own emotions as he recited the last sentence. "The world is shit." He muttered. "Whenever hope is built up, the world is there to crush it, shattering it, leaving the broken pieces to impale you, leaving you broken and bleeding on the ground, waiting for more. The wounds begin to close up right as more hope is imagined, once again leaving you on the ground, but now with deeper wounds, nothing you can do, except pray for hope once more."

Martha sat on the bed next to Jack, eyes tracking the Doctor as he moved about. She sighed softly, listening to his rant, unable to contribute. Jack nodded softly, standing up once the Doctor had finished. "But that's just it, the world was created on bad terms, but we don't have to follow it that way, we create our own path." He said, motioning to himself and Martha. "Forget the sadness, forget the anger, focus on everything that you still have."

The Doctor shrugged, about to speak, but Jack continued, leaving the alien to listen, but he wasn't. He couldn't focus with everything whirling in his head, creating a storm.

"You even chose your own path, Doctor. You didn't want to stay on Gallifrey! You left the glass dome and the orange sky for a life of different views. You wanted to see the entire universe! So you ditched that planet by stealing this TARDIS. My point, is that you can choose to have the emotions, but you could also choose happiness and joy."

The Doctor sighed softly, unable to respond. Thoughts of suicide and depression still churning in his head, nothing could change his mind. This was the right decision, slitting his own wrists, forcing the pain upon himself for the amount he had inflicted on others. All of the deaths that he had been accountable for, nothing that he had ever done was worth living. He would never be able to shake the thought of killing himself. Once he was dead, no one would ever be hurt on his watch, die at his hand, or have to worry over someone who should take care of himself. He was the burden that was dragging everyone down, but once they touch the dirt, the perish, leaving him hanging, clinging to another.

Martha stood up, eyes flicking between the Doctor and the Captain. "Doctor, we just want to help you out of this, so, what was the main issue that put you in this position?" She asked softly, clearing off of the track about life. The Doctor shook his head in response. "Doesn't matter." He whispered, hazel eyes never leaving Martha as he spoke the sentence, voice smooth.

"Oh, but it does!" She returned, "What is it that set you off?" She asked, concern etching her voice.

The Doctor looked at the ground, eyes beginning to fill with tears. He looked up, secrecy and loss flashing across his gaze,

"Rose."