Hey guys! I've wanted to write this story for awhile now. I've never written anything for Doctor Who before, so I'm just posting a first chapter to see if people like it! Thank you, and enjoy!

IMPORTANT NOTE:

This is very AU, and I'm not from the UK! Meaning that if I get some of your customs wrong, please correct me. This story revolves around the 13th Doctor, and his companion. So, please try to keep an open mind to anything that doesn't make sense, and is…AUish. All unanswered questions will be answered through out the story! But, if you have any questions about the AU, feel free to ask! I don't bite.

TRIGGER WARNING: Abuse, and some swearing. But, I won't have as much swearing and I definitely will not have abuse in future chapters.

One;

Page One

A glittering light flickered through the dingy curtains, illuminating the specks of dust that fell through the air.

For a few moments, it was actually peaceful.

It wasn't until police sirens sounded in the distance and I glanced at my alarm clock that the peace diminished.

I was late, an hour late. I should just kiss my ass goodbye now.

With a quiet plea, I bounced from my bed and slipped on my Grandmother's old robe, and rushed into the small kitchen.

Usually, I would wake up at seven and make breakfast for my uncle and his tramp from the previous night. But now, sitting at the table was a married red-head smoking a cigarette with my Uncle. Her dull green eyes rested on my brown ones as she puffed out some smoke.

"Emily." my Uncle harsh tone broke my staring contest with the red-head.

"What? I-I mean, yes?" I blurred. If I wasn't in trouble before, I sure as hell was in trouble now.

"Living room. Now."

Ah, crap.

I didn't even have time to reach the sofa before he pinned me against the wall and began growling in my ear.

"Make us breakfast, and when she leaves. You're dead. Understood?" He snarled.

I nodded.

"Is that understood?" His grip on my wrist tightened.

"Yes." I said softly, looking straight into his scary blue eyes.

He let me go, rubbed his mouth, and sat down in the kitchen.

I didn't always live here. I lived in London with my Grandmother. She passed away two years ago. I miss her, so much. She would tell me these old stories about my dad. His name was Danny Pink. I didn't take his last name though, I took my mothers. My Grandmother rarely mentioned my mom. I didn't know much about her. Just that her name was Clara Oswald, and she was a teacher. Oh, and that she mysteriously disappeared after I was born. My mother was a walking mystery that I never wanted to solve. Either the mystery was too complicated, or I was just mad at her.

Little did I know then that my mother was not gone.

She was forced to die. She was dead.

And soon, I would be forced to die too.

I never really had problems with my vision, but right now I did.

I groaned as I laid my throbbing head on the carpet. Dancing colors filled my vision.

"Get up!" The voice seemed so far away, though sadly I knew it wasn't.

A rough hand grabs my arm and yanks me to my feet. I can't even stand right. I sway on my feet, and watch the world spin in circles around me. A fist collides with my ribs, everything hurts, and then I heard a scream. Maybe it was mine. The fist comes back again, and strikes my cheekbone. A wet drop of blood flows down my cheek.

"Look at me!" He barks. A shudder ran through my body.

I stand there, my head hanging. My whole body hurts, but if I don't look at him my body is going to hurt a lot more. I lift my head slowly to meet his glare.

"Never, ever, be late again. Is that understood?"

"Yes." My voice cracks.

"Get out of here." He shoves me toward the hallway.

I stumble into the bathroom to get a look at the damage. A small cut lines my cheekbone. It doesn't look like it needs stitches. I lift my shirt to see my ribs.

"Shit." I whisper.

They're already swelling. Bruising is a definite. Is it broken? I can't tell.

I look at myself dead in the eye. My brown eyes looked scary, red and tearing. My eye lashes are wet, my long curly hair is tangled, and my face is pale.

What am I doing? Staring at myself crying in a mirror? How pathetic. I'm done being treated like garbage. It's time for me to stop being scared. I am 15 years old, turning 16 in only 3 months! I've dealt with this bullshit for far too long. I'm getting the hell out of here.

But where am I going to go? I go to my room and pace, trying to get some answers.

Before my Grandmother passed away, she gave me a gift. A small rectangle wrapped in blue paper. She said to open it when I needed help desperately. I think that…now would be a good time.

I had totally forgotten about the gift. I was so carried with grief, that the small blue rectangle had never crossed my mind. I needed my Grandmother now more than ever.

Except it wasn't my Grandmother's help.

It was my mom's.

After a half hour of tearing through my closet, I had found it. I sat on my bed, and softly tore the paper. All of my anger had dissipated as I carefully handled my Grandmother's last gift to me.

It was a book. Or, was it a journal?

I opened up to the first page and read:

PROPERTY OF

CLARA OSWALD

I don't understand how my mom's diary is going to help me. But, who knows? Besides, I've always been a little bit curious to see what she was like…

The stories you are about to hear are entirely real. All of our adventures are real. Some were sad, some were happy, but they were all beautiful. And to think, that it all started with a question. My name is Clara Oswald, and these are my adventures with the Doctor.

The Doctor? Doctor who? Does he even have a name?

I considered closing the book. This was a mistake.

But, I continued to read.

I flipped through the pages and skimmed through some of the lines:

"Doctor who?" Can you believe that this is the oldest question in the universe?

Danny Pink is dead.

The bells of Saint John…

He calls it the TARDIS.

Time and space, it's a beautiful thing.

The most important leaf in the universe.

Their names were Amy and Rory.

It was my mum's recipe.

He...He just changed.

Run you clever boy, and remember me.

Dear Emily,

That's when I froze. It was a letter, to me, from my mom.

My heart skipped a few beats as I began to read the letter:

Dear Emily,

This letter is meant for when you are in desperate need of help. So, please don't read it unless you need to.

Emily, you have no idea how much I want to explain everything to you. But, I am long gone now, and that's okay.

I suggest you mentally prepare yourself now. This is where it gets weird. Let's start from the beginning. His name is the Doctor. He's an alien from a place called Gallifrey. A time-traveling alien, actually.

I tried to tell myself that my mom was crazy, that I shouldn't believe a word that came out of her mouth. But, the crazy thing was that I did believe her.

He travels in the TARDIS. A big, blue police box. He sees the most amazing things, Emily. But, he's lonely and he's sad. Maybe, that's how you feel right now. He might need you just as much as you need him.

Emily, you are so special. More special than you will ever know. But, you're dangerous. And one day, you'll be in a lot of trouble. For something that wasn't your fault, and I am truly sorry for that, Emily.

Sorry? For what, me being born? Yeah, I'm sorry too, mom.

You have to find the Doctor. As crazy as it sounds, he could be of great help. Find him, you find an escape from your uncle.

How did she know about him? That's impossible.

Use the journal to help you find him. But, would you like to know a secret? I'll bet my hat that he'll be at the pub on 48th street and 11th avenue at 11:42 tonight. Good luck, Emily. I love you.

The ink was fresh. As if she had written it not too long ago…

I looked around my room, and outside the window. I should just forget about this stupid letter, and figure out a real escape.

But, part of me didn't want to forget. What if he is actually there? Exploring time and space doesn't seem so bad.

Then again, what if he's not? What if this is some big hoax? I'm dead if I leave and come back at midnight.

And, if I stay? Well, I'll have no escape, anyway. No money, no food. I'll be screwed.

So, I guess you can say that I've got nothing to lose. Maybe if he isn't there, I could still get away. I have enough money to afford the bus fair. I could still find some way to make something of myself. Anything is better than living here.

I packed my most valued belongings, and taped a note to my bedroom door. The note said;

Dear Uncle Joesph,

Sorry to alert you so informally, but I've decided leave. I also hate to say, that I'm never coming back. Make your own omelet, asshole!

Lots of love,

Emily Oswald

Oh boy, how was that? I reealllyyy hope that you aren't too confused about Clara and stuff. All will be explained, I promise! Things are going to get more interesting, I swear! So, if you liked it, please leave me a review letting me know what you thought! I'll continue if people like it! Thank you for putting some time aside to read my story. Oh, and Emily doesn't call Clara "Mum" because she's gotten use to US customs. But, whether Emily has a British accent, or an American accent is your decision! Or hey, any accent it's up to you! :)