It's been over two years since I heard the TARDIS, it's strange. You'd think by now I'd stop looking out of the window every time the trees rustle, but you'd be wrong.
Two years ago the Doctor dropped me off outside the Maitland's door and never came back. For the first week I wondered if he'd timed it all wrong with the TARDIS, I mean come on the Doctor wouldn't forget about me would he? But that week turned into two, then three, then a month. I tried the number again, but no answer. Even George got worried about where my 'boyfriend' was, what could I tell him though? I didn't know anything.
Sometimes, I'd have dreams where I stood helplessly watching the Doctor die. More than once I woke up wondering if they were flashbacks, repressed memories that I'd lived and he'd taken from me like when I found out his name. But it's strange how powerful your mind is at convincing you you're wrong when you desperately want to be.
It was well into the first year of abandonment that I started contemplating another woman, maybe even River. He'd mentioned a granddaughter in Akhaten, he had a family somewhere, who was I to keep him from them? Who was I to keep him from his loving wife?
I'd even thought about who I was? He'd once told me he'd met me before at the Darlek Asylum, even in Victorian London. He knew versions of me I didn't even know existed, maybe I was a version that he now wanted to forget about. Maybe I wasn't even real, he'd found a more exotic version of me.
For a period I tried hard to forget it all, I had my own commitments –the children, George, the house even school since George convinced me to try University. But at night, when everything settled all I wanted was for the Doctor to materialise and take me away. You never truly forget an experience like the one he gave me, unless he wants you to that is.
That's the one shred of hope that lead me to believe he was coming back. Nobody got to take the Doctor with them. He'd told me he'd lost many of his companions, presuming they died I clung to the fact I lived. He told me about Donna, I clung to his memory more than ever before. Knowing that I still remembered and lived convinced me that one day he'd come back for me.
But it's been two years now, and if he wanted me surely he would come back for me. He's a story now that I'll tell my children, and then my grandchild of a mad man who whisked me away in his box. They'll laugh at how silly I am, they'll think its fiction, and they won't believe it's real. Just like how I didn't believe he was real at first.
He was my alien with two hearts, hearts that I'm sure once loved me even just platonically. I'm sure the feelings I've had since he left me aren't just sadness from losing a friend I've wondered if they're heartbreak from losing a love. I know how I loved him, but I'm nothing but a page in his century long story that maybe one day he'll choose to revisit.
I was his impossible girl, I travelled galaxies with him, I fought alongside him and I will not forget him.