Before Rose
-NobleWriterofWho
Author's Note: Hello! I'm back again. Warning: this chapter contains suicidal thoughts and actions. Read at your own discretion. And enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.
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Chapter 4: Try Again
The Doctor was biding his time. He just needed to be patient. That's what he had to keep telling himself. The opportunity would present itself eventually. He'd escape this wretched place. He needed them, and by them he mainly meant Dr. Valter, to trust him. So far he had done everything they had asked. Which was only for him to rest and take his meds, but he could have refused. He could be making this a lot harder on them. And even so his efforts seemed to be in vain. Nothing had changed. Security was no less tight. At every moment he was treated like he might try and escape. With the same caution of someone who might try and-he shook his head. After two weeks of being trapped here he was becoming impatient. How much longer would it take?
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They wanted him to go to therapy. Therapy! Therapy where a complete stranger would try and pick his brain to fix what was 'wrong'. As if anyone could understand what he was going through. They said it was an important part of their treatment here. Since he had been so well-behaved they thought he was ready. He clenched and unclenched his fists struggling to keep his voice down.
"No," he repeated through gritted teeth.
Dr. Valter just sighed. "Please, you must understand the importance of opening up and talking to someone about your trauma! The only way to heal is to confront whatever happened to you."
She was trying to stay calm. She kept her tone gentle but stayed a good few places from his bedside. She did not like that wild look in his eyes.
"Who says I've been through any trauma?" the Doctor roared sitting straight up in his bed. "I'm completely fine."
"If you were fine you wouldn't be here. Dr. Simaon is one of our finest psychiatrists. He's going to help you. He'll arrive for his first session with you around ten tomorrow morning."
And with that she turned tail and left. The Doctor's blood was boiling just beneath the surface. With a scowl, he got up and went to the window. A clear sky. He looked down-red grass. The sight only made him more agitated. How far down? A good fifty to sixty feet at least. Not enough to be sure it would kill him. Not with the technology and medicine like theirs. If he were to jump they'd just save him again, and he'd be here even longer.
He needed a sure way that guaranteed success. He would not see their stupid psychiatrist! They couldn't make him. He searched the room for something, anything that could do the job. But they've been very careful. Not one sharp, pointy thing. Or enough wire or rope or...there was nothing.
Wait.
Soon they would bring him dinner, and after that they would escort him to the bathroom on this floor for his shower. It was one of the few times he had any privacy. It was the perfect, and maybe the only, time he could do it. Finally put an end to the mistake of his continued existence was. With a palm set in motion the Doctor smiled slightly. They would not save him this time.
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The door to the bathroom closed behind him. He was alone. He only had thrifty minutes before they would come barging in to check on him. There were two rooms; one held the stalls and sinks and the other held all the showers. He walked into the bathing room, and went into the first one on the right. Like always there was only a bar of soap, sponge, bottle of shampoo and conditioner, and one extremely dull razor. He picked up the razor in his shaky hand. Looking down at his scarred wrist, he realized that he didn't want to attempt that particular method again. It wasn't like it had worked last time. And that glass had been have been ten times as sharp as the pathetic razor he now held. Stepping out of the shower, he scanned the room.
There was only one tub at the very end. It was deep enough. He raced to it and turned on the faucet. Minutes ticked away as it slowly filled. He didn't bother taking his clothes off. When they found his body, well, at least he would have a scrap of dignity left. He was surprised by all the emotions that flooded his mind as he climbed in. No sense of calm this time. Or excitement. His ears rang. It dawned on him the weight of what he was about to do. He was going to drown himself. The sound of water gushing into the tub faded away. The ringing in his ears got even louder The cold water made him shiver as it covered his body finally reaching his shoulders. Higher and higher. He shut it off before the tub overflowed. A twinge of fear pulled at his heart. Maybe he didn't really want to do this. No, this wasn't about want. He had to do this.
The Doctor's breath hitched as he sunk down further into it's icy grasp. Finally all the way under he closed his eyes. With the respitory bypass he had this would take a while. In minutes his lungs started to burn. His hand gripped the sides of the tub; he kept his arms rigid and straight so that he wouldn't come back up. His body screamed at him to resurface but he fought with everything in him against that instinct. He fought as he thrashed around his body convulsing. Some of the water sloshed out. His eyes shot open. He needed air. He couldn't-
His mouth opened against his will. Water rushed in. He gagged choking on it. Never had he felt so helpless. In his panic somehow he managed to stay under. His grip still iron holding him down. But slowly he was losing his strength. This was the end. The thrashing stopped,but he still jerked sporadically. Faces flashed before his eyes. He saw them all again. His companions, his friends. People he would never see again now. Then, worst of all, he saw the TARDIS. Could she feel him die? Right now his life force fading: she could feel it. They were connected.
I'm sorry.
The world faded to black around him. It was finished.
