She was always a normal girl, insignificant, generic. Almost too perfectly average to anybody who studied her closely, but she always made sure no one would ever give her a second glance.
Her clothing was that of a reasonably reserved person, yet still had a reasonably stylish look that suited a young girl in her teens. She wore her red converse and her thick quirky headbands that held most of her thick, curly brown hair back, but with her plain jeans and jumpers they only created the effect of youth and were not eye-catching.
Her skin was pale and freckly, not something to be envious of in her opinion, and she only wore minimal make-up, except on special occasions. Her school grades were only just above average, in a way that wouldn't grant appraisal nor require the offer of assistance.
In school she got along with people and had friends, but out of the necessity to look normal. Outside of school she had no job, played no sports, and didn't go out much. She went running every day to keep fit and ate healthy food; she didn't want to fall ill and have others worry about her.
She was as invisible as one could be without being mysterious to any curious eyes.
She was absolutely normal. Not memorable in any way, shape or form. Seamlessly hidden with those she's hiding from, and from any other extra-terrestrial life forms who might want to find her.
Ok, she was a little paranoid, but she kept that hidden even better.
Until one day she met a mad man, an old man in a young man's body, with the mind of a genius and the madness to match, who wanted to fix everything, discover everything, yet found chaos wherever he went.
He called himself The Doctor.
She was on her daily run, even her running clothes weren't exceptional. Just a pair of black shorts and a grey t-shirt, along with a thick headband of a bandana folded into a strip and tried around to keep her bushy hair away. She was halfway through, her iPod blaring the same five songs over and over, the only ones she could tolerate, when suddenly a man with messy brown hair and an odd look about him stumbled into her path. He even fell over.
She looked at him for a while as he collected himself. He brushed off his clothes, which looked like a cheap, blue suit, more suited to a man in his 20s than a man in his late 30s, and picked leaves and twigs out of his hair. She offered her hand and pulled him to his feet.
"You alright?" she asked him.
"Yeah!" he said dismissively, "thanks for that, had a bit of trouble with some…uhhh…let's say aliens, but don't panic." His grin was too large for someone claiming to have trouble with aliens.
She didn't really mind his obviously delusional state; it was a fun occurrence in her constantly repetitious routine. "Ok…well have fun with your alien buddies," she said before stepping around him and turning the volume up on her music. She needed to calm down and no be paranoid about the possibility of aliens in the vicinity.
"Wait," he called after her, stopping her just before she started to jog again.
Please don't be a serial killer. Please don't be a serial killer. She thought.
She turned around to face him again. He looked like he was searching his pockets for something.
"Have you seen my sonic screwdriver?" he asked, clear worry on his face, like a child who's lost a precious toy.
Oh thank god he's just crazy.
She refrained from sighing. "Umm…" she looked around to see if there was anything that might resemble a screwdriver. Yep, definitely delusional. She saw something glint in the evening sun; it was partly hidden by the long grass at the edge of the park, where the mower didn't reach. "Is that it?" she questioned, pointing in its general direction.
The mad man followed her hand, "ooh! Yes! Yes it is," he exclaimed, excitedly running over to it and scooping it up in slender fingers. He tapped the metal stick-like mechanism on the palm of his hand to check if it was working.
The girl turned and began to walk off, desperate to leave before this man could talk to her more.
The man flicked his sonic screwdriver with his index finger, pressing a button a couple times before a blue light flickered on and a buzzing sound emitted from it. He waved it around trying to get some readings from his surroundings. It beeped and he moved it left more, then right more, trying to get a stronger reading, like one would from a metal detector.
Suddenly it buzzed louder, he looked up to where it was pointing. The girl? Maybe it was wrong; it did receive a hard whack before. He adjusted a few things by 'expertly' tapping it on his palm and flicking it. He tried again. Same as before it reacted strangely to this girl, this ordinary, human girl.
He must investigate. The previous alien problem had been sorted and he had all the time in the world to see whether something was amiss with this girl, or whether he needed to properly recalibrate his sonic screwdriver.
She was already gone by the time he decided to talk to her though, so he ran back to the TARDIS. He always found it easier to ponder over things with the familiar hum of the TARDIS around him.
She'd looked back only once. Once more than she'd usually risk though. And when she had looked back the mad man was now waving his 'sonic screwdriver' around him, like he was using it to search. This man was odd, in a way she couldn't quite justify. He was just different; and not only because he's a nut-job.
She decided she'd forget about him. People weren't really her area. She was brilliant at reading them, talking to them, lying to them, manipulating them, comforting them, helping them, destroying them; when it came to people she could do just about anything, which is why she's successfully lived on her own and funded her education with small credit card scams and nobody has ever questioned it. But when it came to being curious about them, when it came to them holding her attention, she was lost.
Was it sympathy? A mad man would deserve sympathy. Or was it the desire for friendship? A mad man wouldn't have many friends, real ones at least, and she didn't have many real ones either, so maybe her subconscious made the connection. Or perhaps she felt angry at the mad man, because after all he did interrupt her routine.
She settled with curiosity and fear. They were some of the few emotions she could identify clearly, along with few others. Over the years she's forgotten many and slowly, gradually slipped into a state of almost-apathy.
A/N: Thank you for reading! If you have any criticism, comments, appraisals, feedback of any kind please let me know, I'll be sure to take it into account next time.