What I Will Never Say
Authors note - Hey guys thank you so, so much for reading this, I hope you enjoyed my first part. This one is super depressing andcontains possible triggers. Set after Death in Heaven from Missy's POV. I'm sorry.
"Say something nice - please" I drawled, forcing a half-hearted smile, my accent becoming stronger as I lost my usual singsong tone. Nobody will notice. "You win." The Doctor whispered, he wouldn't really disintegrate me would he? I had taken precautions, but he didn't know that. "I know" I admitted, I had finally driven him to murder. So I braced myself for the inevitable. Willing myself not to cry, I closed my eyes and waited for the sickening lurch that comes with using a vortex manipulator. I didn't have to wait long.
Grief over took me as I dropped to the cold hard metal floor of my TARDIS control room. Hot tears breaking free from under my lashes and snaking down my cheeks, finally I let go of the facade.
Leaving me on Gallifray was one thing, leaving me for dead was another. But I never thought he actually had it in him to kill me. My best friend. My lover. The best man I've ever known. Just disintegrated me to preserve his friendship with a pathetic little human, who will be dead within the blink of an eye.
Every time a pet comes along he leaves me for dead. I'm his oldest, dearest friend, his lover, the closest thing to family he has left, I know him better than his own wife (River) considering he has several. Yet he continues to treat me like shit. No matter what I do he can do it better even though our academy results show the complete opposite. He doesn't want me. He wants a pretty skinny little girl who will hold his hand and watch in awe, rapt by the things he does. He has to work to keep them keen, he can drop me anytime he pleases and I will always come crawling back. I have come running whenever he needed me, but when I need him, he's nowhere to be found. Probably off gallivanting with his flavour of the week, they don't live much longer than that anyway.
I really do deserve to die.
I should have refused to regenerate into this form and stayed dead. Like I was supposed to. Everyone is better off if I'm dead. I'm worthless. Even the Doctor, who showed Davros creator of the Daleks mercy, doesn't think I should be allowed to live.
I'm a monster an abomination, a disgrace to my kind. I should've just ripped off the vortex manipulator and let him disintegrate me. I deserve it after all.
Stop crying, you don't have the right to cry, stupid, fat, ugly, bitch. Before I could fight it uncontrollable sobbing over took my body along with shaking and hyperventilating. This hasn't happened in ages.
STOP IT KOSCHEI. I forced myself to take deep ragged breaths, in through my nose one, two, three. Out through my mouth, one, two three the minutes dragged by like hours.
Lacking in strength I heaved my pathetic excuse of a body up off the floor and dragged myself to the bathroom, where I stripped off my Victorian style Jacket, skirt and blouse so I was left in my corset and underwear. I turned to the sink facing myself in the mirror. Why do I have to be this? I pulled out my seamstresses measuring tape, and wrapped it around my waist. Twenty inches, I'm getting there. I unlaced my corset and shimmied out of it, leaving me in my purple bra and pants. I once again wrapped the tape around my waist. Twenty-four inches. . . Fat. Fat. Fat. Fat. I have to be Twenty-two inches. I sunk down onto the cold tiled floor and hugged my knees to my chest.
All that work was for nothing. I stood back up examining myself, my stomach was bulging out, and my thighs were almost touching in the middle. My collarbones are visible but only slightly. I can't do this anymore; the hunger pangs hit me once again.
That's why the Doctor won't take a second glance at you, you have no self-control you're still too fat. You're nothing compared to his pretty little Earth girls. Peeling off my remaining items of clothing I jumped in the shower and turned the water on, turning it as cold as it would go. The ice-cold water making me shiver uncontrollably. Being cold burns calories. I finally put my head under the faucet, the water giving me a headache almost instantly. My eyes landed on the razor in the corner once again. Would anyone notice? No, nobody cares enough to notice.
Shut up you stupid bitch, is your self-confidence really that low? Are you that desperate for attention you'll cut yourself to get it? Hot salty tears were once again running down my cheeks, a sharp contrast to the fresh, freezing water running down my spine.
I began to shave my legs, my hand slipping once or twice; I watched the blood slide down my legs and mix with the water gathering at my feet then disappear down the plughole.
When the blood stopped flowing out of my accidental cuts, I moved on to wash my hair while rinsing the conditioner out I repeatedly ragged my brush through my pointlessly long hair, the knots only getting worse. My strokes getting harsher, I pulled out more hair each time. Eventually I tied my conditioner free hair up on top of my head and began scrubbing my body relentlessly with my favourite exfoliating brush, it's hard bristles getting rid of at least one layer of skin leaving me red raw. I rinsed off the remaining soap, my now sensitive skin quivering under the abusive flow of the freezing cold water, shut off the shower, climbed out, grabbed a towel and patted myself dry.
I pulled on my favourite comfy pants, climbed into bed and cocooned my shivering blue body in my covers. I shut my eyes and attempted to sleep, I can't remember the last time I did, anyway, I've nothing better to do. But it wasn't to be. I tossed and turned for hours, it doesn't matter though sleep is for the weak, I'm a Time lady I only need a few hours a week.
The never-ending drum beat, the heartbeat of a Time Lord. My heart beat. Ricocheted around my skull, I wish it would stop.