Clara Oswald stares at the television, it's flickering images a great distraction from her cluttered, wandering mind and her scarred heart.
She's watching the newest episode of her favourite show, Doctor Who, watching her favourite doctor, Eleven, or Chin Boy, her nickname for him, as he helps a widow rescue her children from a Christmas-like place, blanketed in snow and practically begging to be explored. Clara had actually been daydreaming, drifting in and out of the episode but still understanding the plot. Well, barely.
She sighs and looks at the clock. It reads 2:11 AM, but she's wide awake.
Clara shuts the television off as soon as the end credits close, the theme song playing over and over again in her mind, the chords fading just to be revived. Moving quietly, she opens her bedroom door slowly, slipping out. She hops down the stairs as fast as she can while still remaining quiet, easily weaving through the sparse, ugly furniture her father had accumulated from his parents, and slides open the smudged glass door leading to the backyard.
After Clara's mother's death, her father had become distant and awkward, not really knowing what to do with a female adolescent blossoming into a woman. (In truth, she wasn't sure what to do either, entirely lost in the next step. And this time, her mother wasn't there to find her and save her, like when she was lost in Blackpool) She'd grown up with no advice, no care, no help, and no love. He would do his own thing and she would do her own thing, Clara forced to get a job to support herself. Her father allowed her to stay in his house, but it was more of not wanting to talk to her about moving out because he straight up didn't want to speak to her, than wanting to help her out in life.
That only piled on to other things; Her lack of self-esteem and Clara's lack of friends proved to be difficult when high school rolled around. From the very first day, she had run to different areas to explore. Because of her friend, she had been branded as a freak and a bad influence, everyone straying away from her like repellent.
The library, the first place she had fled to, had seemed too good to be true, and it proved to be when it had been burned down to ashes, the arsonist being her only 'friend', Nina. It had only been two days. Two. Days. When it happened. Since then, Clara had found a new place to spend her free time at school, hidden behind flower bushes and trees in the quad, safe from the insults and sneers, the judgemental looks and questioning glares.
Clara shakes her head as if to clear the memories away, but in reality, they've just been buried in the back of her mind, hiding only to resurface again later at the most inconvenient times. She shuts the glass sliding door slowly, and steps out into the moonlight, her whole backyard lit up from the moon.
The worn, wooden deck beneath her feet is cold and rough, so she moves past it, past the cold paved concrete onto the soft grass bristling beneath her toes, her footsteps light. A cool breeze blows past, carrying the lovely scent of petrichor, lifting her hair up and throwing it in her face. She brushes it away, and, making sure to stay out of the view of her father's bedroom window, steps over to the stone wall that divides the houses in the neighborhood. Clara places her hands on the top of it, the uneven roughness scraping against her hands, and jumps up high, throwing her leg over the wall when she's high enough. She grunts, takes a deep breath, and forces herself to crawl up, standing up slowly as she balances herself on top of the wall.
Only about two feet away from her is the neighbors roof, their house being a small one story hidden from the street by tall old oak trees, their branches stretching out over the street. The neighbors roof is almost completely flat and Clara prays that the neighbors have never heard her footsteps the other few times she climbed up there.
Clara jumps nimbly onto the roof, walking up a little closer to the centre before sitting down. She pulls her short red nightdress down so she's sitting on it. From up there, she can hear the bugs chirping, the airplanes flying up above, the cars on the freeway far away. She can smell the fresh, crisp November air. And she can see the stars.
She lays down, knitting her hands together behind her head, making a substitute pillow, and she looks up at the stars, shining brightly in the sky, scattered. Hazy bursts of clouds spread across the lower part of the sky, thickening and reaching out like fingers grasping for something, anything.
Clara closes her eyes and breathes out, feeling her breath hang in the air before her small nose.
She imagines running away with the Doctor, his warm, big hand taking her small one, his beautiful emerald blue pools speckled with amber and grey flecks staring into her own eyes.
Him, pulling her into the TARDIS, showing her a of time and space. Next stop everywhere.
Him, fighting danger at every turn, outwitting enemies and frustrating so many people.
Together, they could save the universe. Save the world.
But first, he needs to save her.
Clara Oswald opens her eyes. She smiles a sad smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, that doesn't quite show off her dimples.
"Rescue me, Chin Boy, and show me the stars."