It wasn't a very large room, just the size of a bedroom. In fact it was a bedroom, complete with a bed shoved in a corner, table and lamp, and a bathroom connected to the room. The walls were a cream white and bare. A small window rested in the wall that the bed was pressed against. White panes were across it, making them seem like prison bars. The whole place seemed like a prison to him. Either that, or a very strict hospital.
From where he sat on the floor leaning against a wall, he could just see though the window and out into the world beyond. A darkened sky stared back at him. Thick clouds littered the heavens promising rain. No zeppelins were in the sky. But then again, why would they? Only fools would fly in this weather.
A knock came from the door. Lazily turning his head, he stared blankly as a woman walked in. She had honey-brown skin with a shade darker hair. She was wearing a deep blue dress that stopped above her knee complete with slightly see-through black tights. A smile was across her mouth as she made her way across the room to him.
"Good evening, John," she said, bending down to rest a hand on his shoulder. "How are you doing today? Are you well?"
He blinked at her slowly and said nothing. Nothing needed to be said. He wasn't feeling well, but he wasn't feeling bad either. He wasn't feeling anything. Nothing. It was emptiness, like he'd forgotten something.
The woman frowned at him, "Come now. Enough with the moping," she said. "You need to get some exercise. Come on. Up you go!"
The woman looped an arm around his and heaved him up from the floor. He didn't protest, but shook her off when he was standing.
"Now, there's no need for that," she told him. "I know you don't like being touched, but that gives you no right to be rude."
He ignored her, staring blankly at the floor. He wasn't wearing any shoes and his white sweat pants pooled at his heels. He wondered where they'd taken his shoes. They were the burgundy ones, not the white trainers.
"Come on, you," the woman said. "Let's go talk to your friends!"
He raised his head as she waved a hand at him, beckoning him to follow. Not like he had any choice in the matter. She'd make sure he'd follow her.
Reluctantly he walked after her, dragging his feet against the floor. She led him out of the room and into a corridor. Painted white, of course, it seemed to be the favorite color of this place.
He moved his gaze around to look at the doors that lined the halls. Each had a nameplate on it and a number beside it. Definitely giving off the 'prison' vibe.
Soon he and the woman reached a large room with various people sitting about. This room was different from the hall and what he assumed was his room. Different colored walls met his eyes this time, with large windows. Flat-screened televisions hung from the ceiling playing various channels. Tables were strewn about the room and many people sat at them, engaged in different activities. Everyone seemed to be wearing the same type of clothing; sweat pants, a plain t-shirt and in some cases, a hooded sweatshirt. Not all in the same color, but mostly dull washed-out hues.
He registered that while he had been taking in the room, the woman had been speaking beside him. Now she was looking at him with a happy smile. He didn't hear a word she said but nodded. Nodding always worked to get one out of a conversation.
"Well, good," the woman grinned again. "Now make yourself at home! Go and meet the neighbors!"
She gave him a little push making him grunt and move forward.
"Have fun!" She waved as she started back into the hall. "And just call me if you need anything."
That wouldn't do much good, figuring that he'd never got her name. She flashed him another smile before disappearing down the hall. He watched her go briefly before turning back to the room. Sighing, he made his way across the room to go sit on an L-shaped couch. Another man was sitting by one of the arms and his eyes followed him as he sat in the corner of the sofa.
"He's new, Thomas," the man whispered to himself. "Thomas hasn't seen him before."
The man, "Thomas" watched him through haunted eyes. He ignored him and brought his feet up on the cushion, resting his arms on his knees. More murmuring came from Thomas and he glared at with irritation.
"Thomas thinks the man looks sad," Thomas muttered. "Thomas wonders why. But Thomas wonders about a lot of things. What's that pretty thing the man has around his neck, Thomas? It's shiny."
Pretty thing? Glancing down at his chest he noticed that he was wearing a small chain with a silver ring handing like pendant from it. Taking the band in his fingers, he traced the smooth edge. There wasn't anything fancy about the ring, and he didn't even know why he had it.
"Thomas thinks he had a ring like that once," the man mumbled. "Maybe the man has Thomas's ring. Thomas should take it back."
He'd had enough of this "Thomas" person. Tucking the chain and ring in his sweatshirt he turned away from the coot and curled up against the couch. Thomas kept on muttering to himself but he toned him out. He let his gaze move slowly around the room glancing at the various people. He'd pretty much figured out where he was beforehand, and now Thomas had just proven it. He was in a mental hospital, locked away for whatever reason. Probably had to do with not remembering. He couldn't recall what he'd done yesterday, or any other day in the past. He didn't even know his name. The woman had called him John, but he didn't think that was his real name.
"Thomas wants to see the ring," Thomas's voice was very close to him making him jump slightly. Whipping his head over his shoulder, he saw that Thomas was sitting next to him on his knees. He held out hand as if expecting him to give him the little trinket.
"Leave off," he spoke finally for the first time. His voice sounded hard and unfamiliar to him. Thomas scowled at him and leaned over him.
"Thomas just wants to see it," the man reached out an arm trying to reach into his hoodie to grab the ring. He swatted his arm away and sat up glaring sternly at Thomas.
"Oi! You heard the man," a female voice called out. "Now sod off, Gollum!"
Thomas turned to look at the newcomer, and scowling, backed off the couch and stalked away. He watched the man leave and then turned to look to his rescuer. A gasped escaped from him. Standing before him was a woman looking to be in her late twenties wearing the same style clothing as him. She had beautiful blonde hair that curled in at her shoulders with soft hazel eyes. Her full lips were parted slightly giving him a small smile.
He had seen her before. Somehow he knew that face, those eyes, that smile she gave just for him. He knew her and yet he couldn't remember where.
"You alright, mate?" She said stepped closer and sat across from where he was half sitting, half lying on the couch. "You look a little spooked."
He opened and closed his mouth trying to form words. He couldn't think of what to say. Pushing himself up slightly, he shaking pointed to her and then to him and mumbled, "I, I knowyou."
"Do you?" she said softly and sadness clouded her eyes. "Then, do you know my name?"
"I, I," he stuttered and racked his brain for her name. His memories seemed foggy as if it was forbidden for him to remember. He could remember snippets of her voice, her laugh, and could recall hazy images of her. He knew her. And he knew her name.
Before he could speak a loud buzz sounded overhead and a voice came through the intercom, "Social time is over now. Would everyone please return to their rooms? We'll have a nice dinner waiting for you all! The staff is always here to assist you, so don't feel afraid to ask for something! Enjoy your meals!"
The patients began to abandon their previous activities and all went shuffling back to their rooms. A few had nurses directing them which way to go, smiling to the patients as they did.
"We better go," the woman said beside him and she lifted herself from the couch. Panic stuck him as she left and he scrambled to stand. She was walking away, just like she did before.
"Rose!" he called out. She stopped. Grinning happily, he ran over to where she was standing and she turned slowly to look at him.
"Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose," he repeated. "That's your name! I know you! I know you. You're Rose, Rose T..."
She looked hopefully up at him when he broke off. But he shook his head; he couldn't remember her last name. And it pained him to realize that.
"Tyler," she told him and started to back away. "It was Rose Tyler…, Doctor."
She gave him a sad smile and then turned away and disappeared into the crowd of people. He felt his breathing quicken and he ran in the direction she went trying to find her. He didn't want to lose her again.
"Whoa there!" A hand grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Where are you going in such a hurry, John?"
Turning his head he saw the nurse that had helped him before smiling up at him. She began turning him away from the hall Rose entered and towards another hall.
"Your room is this way, remember?" the woman said.
"But Rose!" he looked over his shoulder to the other hall. "I have to—"
"Oh! Did you make a friend?" the woman sounded ecstatic by the notion. "That's wonderful! You can see her tomorrow, though. It's suppertime now!"
He began to protest, but the woman just shushed him and pushed him along the hall in the direction of "his" room.
"Here you are, home sweet home!" the woman said as she opened the door to the small room. He begrudgingly went inside and grimaced at the food tray in its center.
"Now, enjoy!" the woman called out. "I'll check on you in a little while. Bye!"
The door clicked behind him and he heard the sound of heels clicking against the floor as the woman walked away. Turing about, he grabbed the door handle and twisted it trying to open the white door. It wouldn't budge.
Angrily he kicked it and yelped as pain shot through his bare foot. He then walked over to the food tray and stared down at its contents. A small ham sandwich sat on a plate with a glass of water and a cracker pack beside it. It looked revolting to him. Growling, he pushed the dolly and he wheeled away until it collided with the bed, spilling the dinner on its sheets. He didn't care. He wasn't hungry anyway.
Going over to the wall facing the window, he slumped down on the floor, bringing his knees up so he could rest his crossed arms upon them. A familiar position that he'd stayed that entire morning and evidently afternoon that day. He no longer kept track of time, it seemed to always blend together, molding all the hours into one.
He sighed heavily and buried his head in his arms. Why was he here? Why couldn't he remember things, important things? He couldn't even recall his name. The nurse had called him John, but Rose had called him… what was it? Doctor? What kind of name was that? Both those titles sounded a little familiar to him, but they weren't his name. Who was he? All he wanted was to remember. To remember who he was, and who Rose was. She was important to him, somehow. He knew that. But why was she here? In the God forsaken asylum, where all the lunatics stayed?
That's what he was. He was a maniac, a mad man. Forced to be locked up here in this prison, because of his lack of memory. He'd lost his mind. He had no memories. No family that he could remember, no life before this, no name. All he could remember was one name, not his, but Rose. Rose Tyler. And he didn't even know if she meant anything to him.
He felt wetness against cheeks and brought a hand up to his face. Rubbing his eyes he saw salty tears had moistened his hand. Furious at himself for showing his emotions he wiped the rest of them away. He wouldn't sit here and cry like a helpless child!
He brought his hands up and ran them through his hair, tugging on the roots as if the pain would somehow help him to remember. Oh, how he wanted to remember. Who was he? All he could remember was vague images. He remembered a domed room, something blue, a gray beach, and blurry images of Rose Tyler. She was with him… traveling with him? No. Staying with him? What was she to him? His friend? Part of his family? His … Love? He wished he knew. Why couldn't he remember?!
Tilting his head back he banged his skull against the wall in dismay. Tears were still in his eyes, but he didn't care. His mouth opened in a silent scream and he gripped the roots of his hair with his fists. Pain seared through his head and he gnashed his teeth together. So, so much pain! All around him, and not of his own doing. He gripped his head in his hands and tried to shut out the agony. He could hear screaming in his ears. His screaming? He couldn't tell the difference, his head hurt so much.
His vision was blurring and he heard the sound of the room's door being opened and it colliding with the wall as someone came in. The screams were still echoing in his ears, except this time he was sure they were his.
Someone was gripping his shoulders and shouting. He didn't realize that he'd closed his eyes. Struggling, he opened them to see the blurry forms of people in front of him. Voices sounded through his screams and he covered his ears. There was so much noise. He let out a final wail as a wave of agony racked his head and his world faded to black.