After a few minutes of cathartic sobbing, I sat up and rolled up my left sleeve. On the back of my forearm were scars, both old and new. I took out the metal compass that I used for Geometry class and pressed the needle-point end down onto my arm. I pushed it deeper and deeper until I could no longer stand the pain and then dragged it across my skin for about half an inch. Blood quickly rushed up towards the surface and spilled over the edges of my freshly made cut. It quickly traveled down my arm, splashing onto the tile floor. Nothing in my life had ever felt as relaxing as this.
"Violet! What do you think you're doing?" I heard a voice shout. I looked up and saw the Doctor running towards me. I dropped my compass and quickly pulled down my sleeve, knowing full well he had seen what I had done to myself. He sat down next to me and grabbed my arm. He didn't even look twice at the appearance of my blood. It was almost as if he'd seen this before. After taking hold of my arm, he rolled up my sleeve and placed two of his fingers on my still bleeding cut. A golden light emitted from his fingertips. My skin suddenly felt warm and tingly. After a few seconds, he lifted his fingers and I saw that the cut was completely healed. In fact, there wasn't even a scar in its place. It looked as if I had never cut myself in the first place.
"How?" was all I could manage to get out in my stunned state.
"I'll answer any questions that you may have, but first you are to answer all of mine."
"Don't you have a class you should be teaching now?"
"That's a question, Violet. I just got through telling you…"
"Fine! You know what? I don't care anymore. Get fired. Not like it affects me." I started to get up when the Doctor grabbed me by my upper arm and pulled me back down.
"Alright, Violet, let me word this a different way. If you don't answer all of my questions, I will notify the proper authorities about your self-mutilation issues. And, correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think you want me doing that."
"Actually, I don't care!" I spat at him. He raised an eyebrow in question. "You go do that. It's not like anyone cares about the pathetic orphan girl anyway. And don't you dare say that you care about me because, if you truly knew me, you'd despise my existence like everyone else on this god-forsaken planet."
"Is that why you're doing this? Because you feel like nobody cares?"
"It's because I feel alone" I muttered. "I don't belong anywhere." The Doctor burst out in laughter. Can you imagine that? Laughing at my misfortune! I shot him daggers with my eyes.
"If that's how you're going to act, I might as well leave right now. Seriously, you're worse than anyone I've…"
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just that the idea of you being pathetic or a 'freak' is such a ridiculous notion that I couldn't help but to laugh at it. Anyway, I…wait! What did you just say?"
"I would think you heard considering that you were just in the middle of responding to the statement in question."
"Do you understand me?"
"Of course I…wait that wasn't English, was it?"
"Nope. Not English" The Doctor responded. "And neither was what you said earlier."
"If it wasn't English, than what language was it?"
"Gallifreyian."
"Galli…what?"
"Gallifreyian" he repeated. "Say, Violet, do you still have your sketch pad on you?" I nodded. "Can I take a look?"
"As long as you promise not to laugh."
"Promise." I opened up my backpack, took it out and handed it to him. He opened it up and studied the drawings intensively.
"These aren't just doodles" he said after a moments of silence. "This is Gallifreyian written down. I can't believe this. I haven't seen this in years. 375 to be exact."
"Yeah, sure. So what exactly does it say?"
"This first one here says Isolation." He turned the page. This one here reads Pain." He went on like that, listing words such as: help, fear, destruction.
"I'm sorry, Violet. So very sorry" he said as he pulled me into a hug. "Please forgive me."
