Lost In Translation

People often believe that I'm lovely. That I'm the nice one.

I'm not.

My name is Professor Elizabeth Caine, the Remembrance of the Dead, and what parts of me are left Time Lord instead of just a computer are far from lovely. You see, my life never allowed me to keep these parts of myself, because between my husband beating me to the point of miscarriage, my brother regularly blowing up the universe and all the constant strays he brings home, I have had to pick away anything fragile to the point I am as cold and as hard as the Matrix that I was once a part of.

If I wanted to, I could make you stand before your greatest fear until your heart gave out from terror. Or balance on a tightrope when you've just spun around like a top. I could take whatever I wanted without a care and the only reason I don't is because I know it will upset my brother who did his best to teach me right from wrong.

I may not be lovely, but I am still Lost In Translation of changing the programming of who I was into who I am now. Let's see if this time I can work it out.