She had green eyes.
Green eyes that enchanted everyone who saw them. Questioned their meaning in her life. And the greatest part was she had no idea why something so powerful was given to a weak, woman who couldn't even stand up for the things she loved.
Eyes tainted by the life she lived, through the loss, the death. The depression of knowing no one really cares about you. You can't trust anyone. Its not worth the hurt and pain of cutting such a tainted trust. All the words she could ever look towards for help resided in a single room. Her room.
Her room, only became a relief point, where the time spent keeping quiet, still and unknowing could leak out into the air and vanish, only leaving thin trails of red in its wake. Along the paths, came the words she only heard when she drifted.
"The Doctor is Coming… Beware…"
The same words, and the curiosity sparked a deadly habit. How could a simple cut cause so much wonder? So much release? So much more from the life she lived. A dull, undermined world where her next meal was questioned, and her very foundation of life shaken from its concrete stays.
"And how am I supposed to be wary of the doctor. The Doctor, you say but Doctor Who?" she would always ask. Hoping for a response, only to slash again and again, trying to strengthen the artificial link between the voice and her mind. A terrible idea. Terrible terrible.
As she set the razor down, and held her bleeding limb, her glance drifted from one side of the room to the next, where the edges began to fade in and out of time and space itself. The circles on the wall, spelling out her last wish. her dreams. her hopes. What she really wished she could stand for, and who she really wanted to be.
She had green eyes.