This came to me in a car ride home a while back.
Though Caitlyn's past is all real, all the names have been changed.
Disclaimer: Only Caitlyn, her family and her past belong to me. The rest is BBC's. UNFAIR. :P
Just Let Me Go
My name is Caitlyn Ellis, and I want to die.
I hate it here. I hate my life. I hate being so God damn alone all the time. I can't stand the feeling that no one actually wants to be with me. But mostly, I can't stand being human. The way we humans live, it's just ridiculous. When we were cavemen we were fine, just walking around grunting and growling. No upper class or lower class. No having to give something to get something. Nothing had any value. Now we have to work, give away half the money we earn, we go around covering our bodies. I'm not saying I want us all to walk round naked, or that I think strippers and porn is a good thing, no way. I just can't stand how civilised everything has to be. Humans are just selfish, self-loving, whining little cry-babies.
Unfortunately, another thing I hate is change. I can't stand change. Unless it is for blatantly obvious good, for everyone involved. That, sadly, wasn't the case nearly three years ago. Three horrible, torturous years ago. When I lost my brother. When my life changed. For the worse.
My family and I were holidaying in Egypt. It was bordering on the middle of our holiday, and we were, as so many times previously, at the bar. My eldest brother, aged just seventeen, left the bar with his friends about ten minutes before us. I didn't say goodbye as he left, because he was with his friends and I didn't want his kid sister embarrassing him. Big mistake. I never saw him again.
Anyway, where was I? Ah yes. We left the bar shortly afterwards, and went to bed. It was roughly one in the morning, and I, as usual, didn't drift off to sleep as most people do. I just lay in bed trying to fall unconscious, but it didn't work, I'd just have to wait as usual.
My father's voice startled me from my thoughts. He was yelling at me and my second oldest brother to get up and get out. I rose from my bed in confusion, and followed my father into his room. My other brother, the youngest of the three but still older than me, was in there with my mum. Then I noticed the glass on the floor. What happened? I had asked. I heard my father saying things about thunder and the glass shattering and then talk of bombs. My stomach did a cartwheel and my heart sank. I was no longer confused, but I was terrified.
Where's Jack? My mum asked, her voice wavering and frightened. That's where it all started. We went outside, the reception roof in flames, bits of rubble everywhere. Ben, my second eldest brother, and my father rushed off to help people caught in the – it was obvious now – blast. I sobbed in terror as someone carried a woman onto a sun bed near us. I shook, tears steaming down my face, horrified, as I heard people banging on doors and walls, shrieking in fear: HELP US OH GOD PLEASE SOMEBODY HELP US! AAAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAAH! HELP! PLEASE, HELP US! The evening carried on in much the same style, until we were moved onto a patch of grass with sun bed mattresses laid out for the younger kids to sleep. I amazingly drifted off, and was woken in the morning, when we were shipped off on buses to different hotels. Jack was only 17. He would have been 18 the next day.
But that was almost three years ago now. I should have gotten over that, right? Wrong. With how messed up the world is these days I doubt I ever will. Back to my original topic of change.
One year before that event happened, I started at a new school, moving up from primary. It did not go well. That was the first case of bad change I went through. I didn't fit in. I made one friend, who went away on holiday at some point in the year, returned, and hated me from then on. In science there was this guy I really liked that I worked with. Then he made friends with a complete and utter bastard. This guy hated me. Had no reason to, just hated me. Then everyone in our year followed suit. The only time anyone talked to me was to make fun of me or to get me to go away. The three years I spent there were hell.
Then my parents got a boat. They loved this boat, and we went sailing almost every weekend. I had moved up schools now, and made a shocking discovery. People did have the ability to like me. But they hardly ever saw me at the weekends, for the obvious reason of me being stuck on the boat. This was deemed by me another bad change.
I soon grew to hate these trips as much as I hated my old school. A lot.
My sadness at that old school was increased when my mother became an orphan. Her father, my granddad, had cancer caused by asbestos. Her mother, my grandma, died of lung cancer. I was devastated. Why did people keep being ripped away from me? Why could nobody there stick up for me? Why did I finally get friends when my parents got a boat, so it felt like I was being kept away from them?
I couldn't stand feeling so lonely all the time. I was left to myself in the back of the car going to and from the boat, ignored completely. I looked at the clouds from my window in the car, finding shapes to entertain myself on the long journeys home. Until, one day, something mysterious tumbled from out of the sky, and hovered alongside the car.
A big blue box, with the words POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX emblazoned above the doors rotated slowly beside me, as passengers in the vehicles around me looked on, astonished. I was as amazed as them, but for other reasons. This was exactly as I remembered it, as I had dreamed since that fateful day when I was a child.
The doors gently opened as the box stopped rotating, and I saw a handsome face peer out at me. I wound down the window as the Doctor opened his mouth to speak.
"Well? You coming?" I grabbed my bag from the seat next to me and began to open the door, grinning up at the man whose face hadn't changed a bit in the years since I'd seen him.
"What on Earth do you think you are doing young lady?" My father demanded as I struggled with my seatbelt. My mother joined in, rambling about how it was impossible, and that I shouldn't go off with strangers, and that I couldn't leave her.
"I'm sorry, mum, but I can't stand this life. This man isn't a stranger, I met him when I was years younger, and begged him to take me with him one day. I hate being me. Please, just let me go." And with those final words I wrenched open the door and leapt into the Tardis, into the Doctor's waiting arms. The blue doors swung shut and I scanned the console room, the details as exact in my memories as they were in real life. But there was something missing.
So, what did you think? Shockingly bad, very good? Hilariously funny or slightly sad?
Caitlyn is actually me, her family my family, but all the names have been changed. Her past is all real too, aside from meeting the Doctor when she was little. Everything that goes on in the Tardis, and her adventures with the Doctor are made up.
Please read and review.