Every time I get dragged back into life something is different. A pipe, lying broken and battered on the floor, a cord, sparking against the wall, a wrench, leaning against my leg, a knife, pooling in blood at my feet. He always leaves the murder weapon behind. For me to see it. For me to know that he shows no remorse. But he does. He wouldn't need to make a point about not caring if he didn't.

Each time he moves into my presence I sense him and steel myself against the blows I am sure will come. He beats, electrocutes, starves and stabs me. Each time he comes back he finds different, more exciting ways to end me. But I keep coming back. This angers him and every time I return to life I know that it will be worst next time.

The first time he kills me is on the deck, with his laser screwdriver in front of everyone. In front of the world. All I can hope is that Torchwood aren't watching. I don't know why I hope that, I just do.

When I come back to life he's still there. He stares at me, calls me a freak and ages the Doctor. I panicked then. Without the Doctor everything will go wrong. Without the Doctor we couldn't defeat him. My only consolation is that Martha got away. Every day that he comes down into the bowls of the Valliant and kills me is another day that Martha is free and I would gladly die a hundred deaths than have her captured. Because she gives us hope. Everyone on the Valliant. Right down from the slaves who must do what they are told up to the soldiers who do it out of fear, it gives us all hope. It must.

The second time he kills me, I am chained, defenceless. He takes his time, beating and cutting me. I can see that he's fascinated by me. And if he waits long enough he can watch the wounds heal before his very eyes. But one thing that I've learnt is that he's not a patient soul.

When I come to he is gone. I was surprised, thinking that he would want to be there when I come gasping back into this world. But he chose to watch from a monitor, depersonalised from me and my death by a camera.

The next three times he kills me he comes down and rants and raves about Martha. I just smile grimly about how she is eluding him. This kind of visit always ends with a question.

"Where is Martha Jones? What is she going to do? How do I find her?"

He threatens me with everything under the sun including the death of the Doctor, but I always answer with the same words, calmly, my outer attitude never betraying my inside feeling of panic.

"I can not tell you what I do not know."

In the end I think I get through to him that I don't know where she is. He stops asking me those questions. I think he realised that if I knew where she was I would rather give her up than watch the Doctor die. Maybe he's right.

The next five times he kills me, it's with a wire, garrotting me. I don't know why he does it so many times. I don't think I want to.

For the first two of the wire deaths he is silent through out, but with the last three he speaks to me. Of what's going on up in the real world. Who he's killed. Which countries he's wiped out. How inferior my species is. He's a typical master criminal: he loves the sound of his own voice.

The eleventh time he kills me, he talked with me for an hour before hand. I'm suspicious of him. It's never good when the bad guys want to talk with you. But he doesn't ask questions. He just talks. Mostly about earth. He tells me stories about the great wonders of the modern day world falling under him. His favourite one to date is about seeing the Eiffel Tower fall. About how the people were crushed under the majestic tower and how the steeple snapped in two and fell to earth with an almighty crash.

He then, quite calmly, as if it was nothing more than a walk in the park, rises from his chair and snaps my neck. When I wake up I remind myself that for him, it probably is just a walk in the park.

The next three times he kills me he talks about Russia. That was his next target. He told me how he blasted it with the Valliant's weapons and how the whole east coast has sunk a couple of inches. He electrocutes me these times. He laughs as I scream and I swear I hear him say, just before I die for the third time:

"Bored now."

When I wake from those deaths he's gone again but I can't help think that I'll see him again soon.