callisto, an alien from a far away planet, is trapped in a museum of alien artefacts. a man with no name and only a job title finds her and invites her to join him and his companion through space and time.
invasions happen, strange visits and many m...
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(ptsd, nightmares, torture (it's not overly explicit))
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THREE MONTHS HAD passed since the master took over planet earth and imprisoned martha's family, jack, callisto and the doctor. the doctor was kept in the large meeting room in a small tent, given a straw bed and treated like a dog, with an actual dog bowl. martha's mum and sister were now being used as waitresses while her dad was basically a school caretaker. they thought themselves to be lucky sometimes, well, luckier than jack and callisto.
the master took great pleasure in jack's immortality and callisto's high healing factor. hurting them and killing them continuously amused him. he'd never tire of it. he'd giggle away as the life drained from their eyes and turn to hurt the other while he waited impatiently for the first to come back to life.
the pair had been chained to two pillars either side of them, one arm cuffed to each. for three months they'd been standing limply there, abused and tortured daily by the time lord. jack would yell out, scream in pain as he died. however, callisto did everything she could to conceal her agony. she didn't want to give him the satisfaction, the screaming he craved. the most he'd gotten from her was a flinch of her lip and a quiet grunt. he wanted more.
the more time he spent trying to make callisto scream, the less time he spent harming jack or antagonising martha's family. callisto was glad of that, glad she could bring the master's attention from them sometimes, even if it meant she'd be slapped, stabbed, punched, torn.
with the torturous months that had passed, callisto had grown much more tired than she would have been if she was still in the t.a.r.d.i.s. if she was honest, she could've easily had a nap a month prior. if not for the suffering, a fourth month without sleep would have been fairly easy for her. she tried not to, she didn't want to fall asleep because she knew what she'd dream. the doctor couldn't help her anymore.
the tiredness grew too great and she slipped into a deep sleep, the cuffs around her wrists digging into her flesh, splitting and bruising it temporarily when she was no longer holding herself up with her legs completely. she jerked twice, as if trying to wake herself up, but it didn't work and she stayed sleeping.
at first, the nightmare was a mess of jumbled memories from training with her father. the verbal abuse he spat towards her, the continuous effort she put in until she could no longer stand. even when it got to the point, callisto would be made to carry on. she'd collapse, muscles shaking, wounds bleeding, but he'd snap his fingers with a shout and the little girl would have to get back up and play his game.
callisto dreamed of the years she hated the most, the years she still cried from the never ending pain. he had been her master - he'd pull the strings, and callisto would dance. images of herself curled into a ball in the middle of a wide hall invaded her mind, just a young child and already begging for death.
