Some say he's the deadliest thing imaginable, others speak of his eternal kindness, but only idiots trust him. I was only a girl when this trust began, I thought he would stay, but even when he left it still grew. I knew I would always trust the Doctor, it didn't matter how many monsters were through those deep blue doors, somehow I trusted that he knew he could keep me save. But he didn't know. He didn't know whether this ride through time and space would be my last and I was the biggest idiot for believing he could keep me safe. I was never safe in the arms of the Doctor.

The final monster, the one he couldn't save me from, came towards us slowly. It crept and crawled but we couldn't see it until it was too late. Like the invisible gas, I should have smelled the signs, ran away, and told him this didn't feel right. But again, I am an idiot. This story does not begin at the start; I hope the Doctor told you about me. I hope he still has a companion they are the most important things to him.

It was a day like any other; almost cliché in its picture perfection. He, in his dapper outfit, the cherry on top for me was always his bashful bow-tie, and I in a peach dress and a pair of shades that I thought were a match with the outfit. The Doctor didn't think it was a good pick but I am not searching through everything in those endless rooms of the TARDIS just to find the perfect outfit that pleases him.

But I knew he wouldn't care about anything like that; as much as I trusted him with my life, we never got closer than friends. Something told me the Doctor only had friends, and that made me worry almost every second of every trip we took.

"Where are we off to?" I asked pulling my hair back into a tight, auburn bun. "Or are you out of ideas?"

He turned on his heels ever so quickly after the second comment but the movement seemed to radiate from every inch of his body; slithering like a snake. "I never run out of ideas! You lot always have the attention span of a goldfish." He says, not harshly, but it made the playfulness of the conversation fade.

I looked over at him now, my gaze had been on the flickering lights and glowing buttons on the dashboard of his machine. Now my mind was focused on a new machine. His hand, though loosely placed in the air, was so foreign and bare. I couldn't imagine it being a warm haven of comfort, holding it was like being on a raft; cold and alone in the middle of a raging ocean. Yet, like an idiot, I still trusted my raggedy man.