Hey, my darlings! It's Bella-remember me? I know I haven't written anything in AGES, but I've thrown together a little something I think you'll enjoy! You should probably read this A/N before you go on, though...
It's sort of an alternate imagining of the DoctorDonna-instead of simply a part of Donna that the Doctor has repressed, the DoctorDonna is, by virtue of the dramatic difference between herself and the woman the Doctor left behind in Journey's End, a completely separate entity from Donna. Instead of being dead or asleep, she is very much alive and very much in pain, because all she can do is remember her Doctor and know she can never speak to him again.
I may write more with this idea, if you guys enjoy it, possibly more of a narrative structure instead of this form. Please, tell me what you think! It's so helpful to hear your ideas!
XOXO,
Bella
My dearest Spaceman,
I know you'll never get this letter. It's not even a real letter; this is all just a figment of my subconscious imagination…but it's the only thing I can manipulate anymore, the funny little ideas in the lost spaces of my head. Because that's where I live, now. I'm just synapses firing off. Contemporary terms, it's like lucid dreaming. Everything here feels real to me, but I know it's not. Except it's forever—I'll never wake, not ever. It feels like it's been decades already, but it's just been a couple of years. Dreams always feel longer than reality. Like in that movie with the dreams within dreams. I fell asleep halfway in, but I'm pretty sure it's similar.
Oh, God, I'm rambling. Never could write a proper letter. Things always distract me—and there's so much to think about here. Sometimes I pretend you're here, with me. We talk, about everything. It's nice, but it's never going to be real. That's not okay…I wish I could see you again, slap you across the face for trapping me in here and hug you like we used to and lie and say I hate you for imprisoning me.
I know you had to do it. I had to be locked up in here, so that she could live. She's not having a bad life…I just wish I could be a part of it. Sometimes I think I break through. I grab her and put my hands over her lips and shout for someone to listen to me—and then I back down. She's alive, and I can't kill her. I can't. She's the only thing I've got.
She got married, not that you don't already know that. I saw you and your box, and I screamed for you. You didn't hear me, obviously. No one can hear me. I'm just a mute voice in a cluttered head.
You gave her money. She doesn't worry anymore. Thanks for that.
I spent a lot of time crying, at first. I screamed at you as you carried me home. I cursed and kicked and wept as you laid me down in my bed. And then she awoke, the woman who stole my body, and I screamed against her. You left and I lashed against myself, unable to stop you. I wanted to die. I wanted to stop existing—you had stuck me in here, forcing me to live in cold darkness and watch a woman, almost a stranger, steal my life from me.
Maybe you think I'm dead. You think you've silenced me completely, and I'm not in any pain anymore. That thought hurts more than anything. You think that there's no me anymore. You wept for me, I'm sure you did…but then you got over me. You push me out of your mind because I don't exist anymore. But I do. And you can't ever know that.
There's really no point in continuing this. I thought writing my thoughts down would collect them, and everything would make sense. It doesn't.
I miss you, Spaceman. I'm sure somewhere, deep inside, you miss me, too. I'm glad that you don't hurt for me anymore. Have fun, talk to people, see the universe, and forget about the time we had together. Do everything that I never will.
Always yours,
The Doctor Donna
