Hello boys and girls \0/

Mmm, awkward meeting. Anyway, hi to everyone who's reading this, I am really thankful that you are.

This is my first fan fiction. Actually this is my first English fan fiction. I'm Brazilian and there are a great possibility that you will find some common mistakes on misspelling. For that I am really sorry v.v

Despite this being my first fan fiction I am not going to ask for you guys to be understanding and to have mercy or to go easy on me, I would really appreciate if you be honest and come to tell me about what you think. Don't be afraid, I just want some feed back, so send me a review and tell me what you think!

I guess I should do this: I don't own any character of the Doctor Who series. And that would be the disclaimer.

_ Dejá Vù_

_Chapter 1: Introductions made_

People do things for their own reasons.

Consider it the start of our philosophy time. Let's call it that, ok? Philosophy- Time.

Alright. Let me start again. I tried already three times to come to a start. Why did I choose that thematic? Why start with that? Why talk about people if what I really want is to talk about myself? Yes, I was trying to come to a whole line of thought where I'd finally come to the point where I get to talk about what I wanted on the first place. Call me an amateur because, really, I am. That doesn't mean something bad, I'm on that phase where I'm experimenting, finding different ways of approach and you will come to realize that I don't have a difficult and diverse vocabulary, nor do the words seem to flow out of my mind and into the paper as some gifted author on their own accord as it does with some people I admire… - Erasing that again.

Forget all about that "kinds of approach thing".

What I wanted to discuss about- what I wanted to talk about is not about the difficulties an author have, or about my difficulties. Far from that. What I want to talk about is what makes me feel.

That's why the" people do things for their own reasons" thing.

People steal because they're hungry, because they hate society, because they have fun doing it, because of the adrenaline, because of the danger…There's a lot of reasons. But mostly it's because they want to feel.

They want to feel their stomachs full and not the hollow hunger. Because they don't want to feel imprisoned, they want to feel free. Because they don't want a boring life, they want a story to tell. Because they're tired of following the rules or just don't care about punishments anymore.

It's because they want to feel alive.

Maybe not always, sometimes is just so that they can feel, but with that comes the" feeling alive" part.

And I run because I want to feel.

I want to talk about why I run.

I run because I can feel my legs moving; because I can feel the muscles pulling and stretching; because I can feel that burning sensation on my abdomen; because I can feel the ground beneath my feet- the texture, the little rocks that tends to stuck on my shoes, the grass that tickles my shin, the hard asphalt…-; because I can feel my breath leaving my lungs and then filling them up once again; because I can feel how my hair and clothes seem to follow the movements of my legs, defying gravity each time I take another step and bounce of the ground momentarily; because I can feel wind passing through me; because I can feel my heart bumping inside my ribcage being it the only thing that's stopping the organ from actually jumping out of my body in one of its ba-dumps.

And all that makes me feel alive.

It's a series of things that only a living person can feel. It's having a beating heart that makes me a living person. It's having a perfectly functioning body that reminds that there are people that can't go out for a run anymore. And that makes me run faster.

Consider our Philosophy-Time over.

Now comes the realistic part. Where there is none of that crap about "why people do things?" and we start to discuss why am bring that up.

It happens that right now- as in this exact moment- I am not only running to feel alive but to stay alive. If I stop to move my legs or happen to slow down, I die. So I have to run. And suddenly running gains another completely different meaning and the word gets another sense.

While I'm here, running like the wind, hoping to whatever's out there looking down on me and even up at me that I miraculously manage to get away from this monster, I bet things are a little confusing in there,- safe place- where you are.

I turn right on the big blue tree with red leafs and I swear that the animal is so close now that I could feel its breath on my neck and pointy teeth touching the ends of my hair.

I don't exactly know how this happened because naturally this is the end of a long reaction chain. I don't know really why me though. Most of the time I don't and, yes, this does happens on a daily basis.

You see, it's not that I tend to search for this kind of trouble but it always ends up being someone's fault that we have to spend the evening running for our lives or trapped inside a deep and dark hole somewhere very improbable of being found. It's just that one thing leads to the other that ends up on someone getting hurt that makes another someone angry and me being chased by the beast of the seventh gate from Malakunhah.

I, personally, prefer to call him Mark.

Right now, Mark is trying to cut my very flesh into a million of tiny pieces with its big and threatening teeth and dangerous claws, just to be sure that he doesn't choke on any of my bones while he's swallowing my very being.

Not that I blame him, I'm very tasty, although, if you eat very fast your stomach gets upset. You should watch it Mark.

I duck inside a cave that, oh so conveniently appeared right behind that magical tree. I press my back to the end of the cave. Please Mark, have mercy.

I close my eyes seeing that Mark doesn't seem all that willing to stop trying to reach me by sticking its hairy arm inside the tiny hole of entrance.

I could still feel my legs burning with the exertion and my arm itching with the various cuts of the trees branches that I scraped on my hurry, as well as the same feeling of my heart wanting freedom from its refrainment that I described before, along with the rush of breath that is constantly leaving and entering my lungs but not seemingly enough. All on second plane. Because right now my full attention was on the fact that Mark has finally given up on getting me out of here and into his belly.

Has he really given up or is he being actually smarter than I thought he was and is waiting for me outside the cave, read to strike…? I felt the doubt settling in my gut and I decided on waiting some seconds more before going out. This is not a movie and I don't think that only seconds after trying to tear me to shreds Mark is going to be miles long away from me and that I'm in safe grounds. That always seems to be the case with those blonde haired bimbos with the reveling clothes lost in the wild jungle.

Anyway, this seems to be my life nowadays. Believe me it wasn't always like this. There were times where I could stay in bed until midday and spend the whole afternoon lazing around in the living room, stuffing myself with chips and sweets, watching some serie rerun. Those were good times. Times that I'm afraid of never having again, everywhere I go or do now has a purpose. I can't meet someone on my own accord, or become friends with them just because I liked them.

That's because I'm cursed.

Yeah, that's dramatic. And drastic. But I think it's the truth, it's the most logical conclusion I can think of. And, let me tell ya, did I have time to think! After everything I saw and came to know... It was like learning that Santa isn't real. And then again, maybe he is, in another universe, because now there's suddenly more than just one. There are various dimensions, innumerous realities, infinites possibilities where what you has always been so sure of suddenly becomes more variable than the weather.

So, why not? There can be such a thing as being cursed, as in, with a real curse.

Because, years from now, younger fetus me is inside my mom's belly on a medic office and the doctor is looking into her eyes and saying: "It's a girl". Then my dad would come along in the picture and would share a look with my mom and there would be happiness in their eyes. Then comes the first birthdays and I lose my first tooth, then I get my first fracture- a broken arm-. After that, I'm a "young lady" already and I start to notice the boys, then comes the first crush, the first kiss and the first heartbreak. Then is high school life and all that teenager drama- being in the popular kids, having good grades, going to parties, prom…-.

Years from when my mom was in that cozy hospital bed screaming her lungs off and prying that I'd just come out already I would be thrown in another universe by some black force making me reincarnate countless times,-Just like before- being called sweetie by a different mom, in different universes for whole of eternity until I found my own universe and get back to my old life, so that I can sit on my sofa, on my living room, and stuff myself with chips and sweets once again.

Sorry. That was aggressive. I think it's the adrenaline rush and the whole heart beating faster thing. But yeah, I have a complicated life. I don't normally duel on that a lot, but today, - it just isn't my day.

15th of December. I now complete three hundred and seventy-four years away from home.

I've lived three lives being someone else's daughter in another universe.

Nice to meet you, I'm Emma.

That's it. Now it's up to you ;) Come and send me a review why won't ya? Tell me you think, about my oc, about the story, any grammatical mistakes...

Alright, that's okay . I still love you, just because you read this story u.u

Becka_ah~