She follows them day and night, following them to the ends of the earth then falling over the edge and on the next planet. The universe becomes a blur until she can no longer distinguish one planet from the next. This is what it must be like, she lets her thoughts wonder, to see so much of the vast universe it loses its splendor. And with each passing day, the growing boredom makes her more restless, more careless. She tries to aggravate the demons from their hiding spot just to blast their pathetic skin into ashes. She ravishes the moments when they leap at her, claws gleaming in the sun rays, and watch them scream and wine as they burn.
You like it don't you? The hiss of a whisper ghosts her ear, but she ignores the voice, and instead watches a demon whimper as his insides tare and twist inside him.
Let them pay. Someone always has to pay, why does it have to be you? Show them how merciless you can be, let them pay for the blood. The voice echos through her head clouding her mind with a thick blanket, shrouding her sight, and her conscious mind. She feels tired and wants to sleep even as the demons continue to rage about her. She falters slightly, the blanket wrapping tighter around her, her eyes drooping, and she feels herself falling away from the world into a black precipice. Something shoves her down, wrenching her away from the world and thrusting her away under lock and key. She is helpless, a victim to her own mind. She is bound in unbreakable chains, and all she can do is scream and beg to be released. But of course, this is a moment of freedom for the beast, it is not going back to its prison so easily. It shakes its head at her, so pathetic you are, it croons, you think you can save yourself, save them, from these so called demons? Dear one, you cannot even protect yourself. She rages against the cage, shes broken out before, she'll break out again, but she grows weak, her limbs are no longer her own, her mind taken by the monster of her own making, and she crumbles into the beckoning warmth of the dark.
She awakens back on the TARDIS. Her eyes slowly open, a pounding sensation throbs in her head. She passes a hand across her eyes, rubbing her face aggressively. She feels the effects of a heavy sleep, and it takes more effort than it normally should to raise her head from the floor. There is no memory of what had transpired of the monster, and she dreads seeing what it had done. She rises to her feet, shaking, her muscles convulsing, shaking her head to clear what is left of the threads of confusion. She is in the library, a place she avoids, mainly because it is always so quit, almost lonely. As she unsteady walks toward the door, she notices there is no disruption, which was something she had expected when the monster had taken control. She had anticipated chaos, perhaps even cities burned to the ground, but she was unprepared for such normalcy. In the next room she hears the Doctor exclaiming something, and Clara laughing at whatever antic he had done. It wasn't right.
"What did you do?" she whispers to the air, glancing around, almost waiting for something to blast into a raging fire.
Why do you always assume the worst? The slithering hiss blows gently through her head. I only did what you were trying to accomplish.
"Accomplish?" she scoffs, "you only want to see the world burn. What did you do? Who did you kill this time?" The monster snarls and gnashes its gleaming teeth. You are weak without me, you would be dead without me. Look around you, do you see the world burning? Do you see your precious Doctor still breathing? I protected him, saved him even. Without me you would have failed.
"I could have done just the same if you hadn't been banging around." She retorts, how she wishes she could wring its neck, but she might as well be wringing her own. She hears a laugh and she can imagine it smiling mischievously.
So weak, so pathetic.
She narrows her eyes, balling her fists. "You know nothing of me."
On the contrary, its voice rumbling like low thunder, I'm inside your head, I know everything. Every thought, every...desire. At that moment the Doctor rushes by, dragging Clara by the hand. You want out, out of this place just as much as I do.
"Go to hell." Is her only response.
Darling, we are already there.
She wishes there was a curtain, or a switch to turn off its voice, but the voice continuous to echo throughout the day, and through each year, and every century. All these years and the Bad Wolf never left her.
