Chapter 4

"I'm sorry. There was no food in our cupboards, and the little ones were hungry. We haven't eaten in three days," I stutter. I shy away on the floor from Mrs. Carmichael.

"YOU'RE SORRY?! WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO EAT IF YOU MONSTERS SCARF DOWN ALL MY FOOD?! YOU'RE A SNEAKY BITCH AREN'T YOU? PROBABLY SNEAKING DOWNSTAIRS IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT GORGING YOUR FAT SELF ON MY WELL-EARNED FOOD! YOU WILL PAY FOR ALL THIS YOU FILTHY PIG!" She screams. She punches my face, and I slump to the floor. Warm blood trickles down my nose. I prepare my muscles for impact, and protect my head and neck with my hands. Her hard leather boots dig into my stomach, and work their way through my fragile fingers.

"Stop, please stop. I'm sorry. I won't do it again!" I shriek. The kicking stops, and time stands still. I uncoil from my fetal position to look up at her. A malicious smile spreads across her features, and then I see a lethal glint from the pocket of her apron. I can just make out what it is through my swollen eyes. A knife.

"Please, don't! Help me! Ellie, Jaime help me!" I scream. She stalks toward me with the knife. I feel the blade tear through my forearm. I let out a blood curdling scream.

I fly up from the pillow. My hand shakes as I feel the sheets and comforter around me. I sigh, relieved that it was only a nightmare.

"Ava, are you okay?" A voice asks in the pitch black. My pale hand wipes away the perspiration on my clammy forehead. The light flickers on, and the Doctor stands in the doorway, his sonic screwdriver in hand. He rushes to my side, and pushes the unruly strands of hair away from my face.

"What happened? I heard you screaming," he states with concerned brown eyes.

"Nothing, just a nightmare. Sorry, I was just being stupid. You know screaming in my sleep. It won't happen again," I sigh. The scene keeps replaying over and over in my mind, sending shivers down my spine. His face turns blank as he stares into my eyes.

"It was about the orphanage wasn't it? She was beating you, and came at you with a knife."

"It was only my imagination. Mrs. Carmichael is good to us. She-" I start.

"Hold out your hands."

"What? I don't under-"

"Ava, hold out your hands." I place my hands in front of me. He pushes up the sleeves of my baggy sweatshirt. He runs his fingertips over the fresh and old bruises. His hand moves to the four inch scar running along my arm. He traces the outline of four long, slender bruises on the edge of my wrist. He lays his fingers over the pattern, his hand clearly too big to fit my abuser's handprint.

"Who did this?" He questions his voice soft.

"I-"

"Was it that Mrs. Carmichael? Did she do this?"

"Yes," I cower, pulling the sleeves back down.

"Does she do this to the other children?" The Doctor inquires turning away from me.

"Yes, she has even killed some. They are buried under the orphanage," I reveal wrapping my arms around myself.

"Who's the oldest in the orphanage?"

"Peter, he's 17 almost 18. There are twelve children older than me," I answer. He rubs his face, and slams his fist against the wall. He is vibrating. Shaking with rage. He stalks over to me, and snatches my hands. He rips the sleeves up my arms and points.

"Why didn't they protect you? Why didn't they prevent this from happening? Did you scream? Did they just ignore you?" He whispers his voice quivering with anger.

"No. She orders them to beat us with sticks. Peter, Phillip, Drew, Kyle, and Benny. They all beat the younger ones. If they refuse she…she kills them. She already killed George and Solomon because they fought back," I stumble.

"How young are the little ones?"

"The youngest is three. Doctor, I've tried-"

"If the older ones couldn't why didn't you? How could you let those children that couldn't fight back take the beatings? How could you listen to them beg her to stop? Why didn't you help them escape? Why didn't you and the little ones escape from that orphanage?" His voice rises to a yell.

"I did everything in my-" I defend, an anger inside me boiling to the surface.

"Power. You are a Time Lady, Avani, you're not Elizabeth Whitaker anymore! So why didn't you save those children? You know why because you only care about yourself. You are just like humans. Selfish, only care about what they get out of something. They are like children. Always fighting over something, always saying something isn't fair. Guess this universe isn't fair! Unless they learn how to stop squabbling over money and land, they won't stand a chance against those other life forms out there. Alien races by the billions are sizing up the Earth like a fat piece of meat, and humans are just sitting ducks. You need to get over your human life, and bring your mind here every day because none of us can be selfish. Rose and I are out there every day saving the universe from total destruction, and if you can't even risk your life for a couple of children than how do you suppose you'll go out there, and risk your life to save one of us or the universe?" He explodes.

"I tried! God knows I have. It was Christmas Eve, and Mrs. Carmichael was out buying more whiskey so that she could get drunk enough for her traditional Christmas rampaging. I figured she would be gone around an hour since she was already too drunk to walk properly. As soon as she left I rounded up all the children ages 6-14 because they had the best chances of fleeing the orphanage and finding a family to take care of them in the countryside. There were 36 of them, and I sent them out in groups of six every ten minutes. I only got through two groups when she came staggering through the door. Her eyes were bloodshot. She had two bottles of whiskey, one that she took satisfying swigs of and the other that she smashed over my head. Only 12 children escaped; two 14 year-olds, one 13 year-old, one 11 year-old, one 10 year-old, three 9 year-olds, one 8 year-old, two 7 year-olds, and one 6 year-old. 12 out of 36. She never let me home alone with the children again. I was always to run the errands from that day forward. I care for the little ones every day in that hellhole. I have cooked, taught, cleaned, and coddled them since the day I turned 13. I gave my life for them. I gave my childhood for them. All I ever got in return were bloody noses and a never ending chain of bruises. Never, ever call me selfish," I counter. His rubs his face, and runs his fingers through his hair.

"I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions. I should-"

"You should be sorry, Doctor. Now if you don't mind I have to go find my TARDIS. It has to be around this town somewhere. I wore the key around my neck throughout my human life, never knowing what the key opened," I scoff, hopping out of the bed.

"Go ahead leave, but you have no idea what you're getting yourself into. I'm not going to get you out either. The world has changed since you were eight. You are just a naïve child when it comes to the universe," he challenges.

"I am not a child. I was then, but not now. I have seen too much and know too much. More than you can possibly know, Doctor. So go ahead, label me as a child, too stubborn and too stupid to listen to her wise, surrogate father, but I'm much more than that. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself without your help," I spit, gathering my things on the night side table. I exit the room, and weave in and out of halls until I reach the control room. He catches my arm, but I pull away. "Don't ever go looking for me again. I don't need you, and I will never want you. Just like my mother," I sneer, before slamming the TARDIS door shut behind me.