"I could help you. Please, let me help."
This was hell. And not the kind of hell that excited him. No, this…this was pure torture. All of his plans, his world domination…gone. It, technically, never happened even though he tasted it; he lived it. Now, he's being treated like a child, a sound monitor is stationed in his room that he's not allowed to leave because it's locked from the outside. And, to top it all off, the drumming in his head has not ceased. It hasn't even gotten better. He'll admit that he was hopeful that the Doctor could fix this, that this pain would end…oh how foolish he was. Not only does he have to deal with the drums, but also with the nagging of his childhood friend, as well as his new companion. He can't understand why the Doctor would choose her; she clearly had all the power in the relationship. Donna, he called her. Red hair…with a fiery personality to match. The worst part about it is that she actually cared about what he, the Master, did. No doubt any of the Doctor's other companions would have ignored him, but not her. She was almost as bad as the Doctor.
He contemplated death a few times, but the Doctor's words rang in his mind. "…you kill yourself. That's the one thing you could never do." That is true, to an extent. He wouldn't kill himself unless he had a plan for resurrection. Although, if he is being completely honest with himself, that's not the reason he hasn't actually committed the act. It's not so bad here. But those goddamn drums. Beating away, every moment of his life, sometimes hidden in the shadows of the dark recesses of his mind, only to appear again when he's thought he's rid of them for good.
Four hearts beating as the last of their kind. Four beats in a rhythm that would never, ever end.
Four times the Doctor tried to help.