This is the story of Iylah Sparrow, and this is how it ends.
I met him on the eve of my 19th birthday. I was at home on my crappy sofa, drinking crappy cocoa, watching my favourite show, 'Doctor Who'.
I had watched it since I was eleven. The first time Christopher Eccleston waltzed onto the little TV in the orphanage where I grew up, I felt a warmth spread through me, and from then on the doctor was my best friend.
I had sworn that David Tennant would always be my doctor, the only incarnation I would ever accept to be worthy of the name 'Doctor', until eleven came along. Never mind Amelia Pond, he was my raggedy doctor that climbed out of the TARDIS and ate fish fingers and custard. But now he is going, my one and only doctor who stole my heart and ran away with a blue box. I learnt from a young age the people you love never stick around for long, my mother died in childbirth and my father left me on the steps of the orphanage.
But the doctor will never go, he will stay to the very end, my raggedy doctor.
I was watching the episode 'The Angels Take Manhattan' where the Doctor's best friends in the entire universe are taken back in time to live out the rest of their days in Manhattan. It always makes me cry, it's a constant reminder of the loss of my parent's, and the orphanage where I was tormented. I was mocked, for being clever. Too clever my teachers used to say. But enough of my past, let's focus on the present. I paused it right when Amy was taken, and went to bed.
