"You don't know what's going to be in your room until you see it. And then you realize it could never have been anything else."
He couldn't get the words out of his head. Because she was right; it never could have been anything else. How could it have been? The face in the dark was unrecognisable, shadows of hatred flickering around the corner of the mouth, and in the ancient eyes, and yet it was unmistakable. The worry-worn features that were so altered, and yet so similar - and the Doctor knew it could never have been anything worse. There was nothing in the universe that could have been worse than what was contained in the room, for no other living creature could be so evil; be so shadowed in countless deaths.
The Doctor pulled out of the room and pulled the door closed, unable to face the darkness in the room - the darkness in his self - any more. Pausing only to hang a 'do not disturb' sign on the door, he turned and ran, as he always did. Running. Always running.
Inside the room a voice whispered into the darkness;
"An ancient creature, drenched in the blood of the innocent, drifting in space through an endless drifting maze..."
And the Doctor in room 11 smiled.