The Unnamed Child (Doctor Who)

Chapter 1

"Hey! Wake up!" my daddy says sharply. I jump at the sudden voice and squint into the light of the hallway; the tall shadow of my father stands in the door to my dull white, windowless room. I climb out from under my pile of blankets on the floor and stretch.

"Good morning, Daddy." I say as I walk out into the house. I go into the bathroom passing the No Room on the way. I call it the No Room because when I try to go in there, daddy says 'no' really loud.

I grab the hairbrush and look in the mirror at my little face and hair. Since I don't know when I was born I guess I am about 5 and a half. I brush my brown hair that sits in tight curls on my little head. My green brown eyes shine as I smile and the little freckles greet me. I run down the hall and sit on the kitchen floor and soon daddy hands me a spoon and a bowl of mushy stuff. "Eat. We are having a visitor. You need to get dressed."

I was surprised; we hardly had visitors. I finish eating and run to the only place, apart from my room, that has my: stuff the closet. I dress in a yellow and red striped shirt with a pair of red overalls on top. Just as I slip on my high tops, the doorbell rings in the same way doorbells in big old houses ring.

I run out of my room and sit on the sofa. Soon a girl's voice rings out. "Good morning, Sir. I am here to babysit your daughter."

I hear the door close as daddy says, "That's wonderful! I am so glad that somebody finally came!" Daddy pauses as he sees me on the sofa, "And here's my daughter, Isabella!" Whenever someone is here he will call me something like Isabella, Kate, Mary, Lily... stuff like that.

"Well hello Isabella, my name is Amy Goodrow. I will be your babysitter while your daddy goes to work." Amy says. I can't help but be shy. But I feel a little better when she crouches down to my level. I march right up to her and offer her my hand. She grabs it and shakes it.

I say, "It's nice to meet you Amy Goodrow."

Her eyes widen slightly. "You speak like a grown woman! How old are you?" she asks me.

"Um..." I say, unsure, when daddy jumps in,

"She's a little over five."

She looks to him. "How is her speech so fluent?" she asks.

"Oh! She's just talented I guess." he replies. "Oh dear! Look at the time, I really need to get going! Behave yourself!" He runs out the front door. I sit down, having heard a command.

"What are you doing?" Amy asks curiously.

"Daddy told me to behave, that usually means sit and stay." I tell her matter-of-factly.

"Well he didn't mean that Izzy. Can I call you Izzy?" she asks, starting to be friendly. "Sure!" and that is how my friendship began.