The Doctor opened his eyes to find himself laying on the grating of the TARDIS by the console. By the way the grating was digging into his skin, he had been there for awhile, yet he had no knowledge of how he had ended up there. The last thing he remembered was being in the kitchen of the TARDIS and making himself a cuppa. He turned his head to see the shattered cup laying a short way from him. The lost time should of concerned him, but he didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore. He was alone once more aboard the TARDIS that was to large for just one being.
How long ago had it been since it had been filled with people laughing and smiling as they took the Earth back to its correct spot? He had let himself believe for just one moment that he wasn't going to be alone anymore. That the TARDIS would be filled with people who loved him and wanted to travel with him. Yet one by one they had left him until it was just him and Donna. Taking her memories was one of the hardest things he ever had to do, yet he had saved her life. It didn't feel that way though. Despite what he told Donna's family he felt as though he had killed her.
He pulled himself weakly from the floor, his hands cut by the grating yet he did nothing to stop the bleeding. His trousers sagged off his emaciated body. He couldn't remember the last time that he had ate or what it was. That didn't matter now though, nothing mattered except for the fact that he wasn't going to let himself hurt anyone ever again. He was going to die aboard his TARDIS like he should have in the first place when the rest of his people died. He still didn't know why he had been cursed to live. Cursed to carry on alone and to continue to be abandoned by everyone he ever loved.
He stepped on a piece of the broken cup with his barefoot, yet it barely registered in his mind. The pain that he was experiencing in this body was no more then he deserved. In fact he deserved a lot worse. The Master had been right to hold him captive for that long year. The Master should have punished him until he caused his death, only then could he feel as though he had been truly forgiven for killing his people. He barely made it to his room before he collapsed again on the floor. He pulled himself across the carpet and climbed into the bed without bothering to undress. He lay across the top of the blankets, panting as though he had been running for hours though the walk had been short.
When his time came he was going to following the Master into the everlasting night and refuse to regenerate. He didn't deserve to regenerate. Darkness was closing in on his mind again and he let it. He hoped this time that he wouldn't wake up.