Disclaimarrrrrribaaaah: Je no owne pas das Rechte-ding, you know. Moffat's taking gööd khear ov dat.
Author's note: ha ha haha *laughs on nervously* sorry for taking such a shitload of time for this, really sorry. *offers warm muffins* I still love everyboy who reads this with all my heart, my little bunnies. And I hope you have the bestest of times :)
The doctor enters the room, all smiles and kindness, with his white coat dazzling me in the same way and colour as his teeth do.
Oh, yes. I had almost forgotten he existed. It feels like this all the time though, like being separated from the world and then suddenly bam! Oh yeah, there are such things as me, humans. If there were any other way I'd choose it. I'm not a people's person. Family is good. John is good. But the rest can all stay away. All they ever do is bother me anyway.
He goes up to John's bed first, which is very understandable. John's the one that fainted, not me. And I do not want the doctor to be near me anyway, he can be more annoying than even the 'plague'. Although I must admit I felt quite close to the plague the last days. She helped us out loads.
When it comes to the Doctor, he is just plain annoying. He makes weird jokes concerning our illnesses I don't quite understand. Nor do I want to. And he asks questions, questions, questions. "How are we feeling today, litle un'?" Is probably the best example for that, for I get to hear it every day. And still don't get it. I'm not we, that's just weird.
They both speak just below a whisper and give me weird side-glares, which make me feel like they're talking about me behind my back. But since my back is facing the wall, I don' think that's possible.
"Okay, I'll just-" John nods quietly, looking down to his feet, concealed by the blanket. The doc finds his way over to my bed, starting the same old procedure i have learned to so dearly love.
I close my eyes just for one second of peace, before I return to answer all his questions. To remind me that I can't just tear the tubes off and run away. As much as I'd want to.
It's dark. So it must be night, evening at least. Or they just closed the curtains again.
I don't really remember how much time has passed since the doctor came to check on us, my last memory. All I know is that I just feel like, like gibberish. Something like that. There is nothing much in my brain but mulch. And a somewhat uncomfortable feeling, everywhere. I don't know, some sort of nausea perhaps and a very weird ache just in my tummy. Must be the reason why I am awake right now.
I feel just like puking. The nausea reaches its limits, up to my throat. Getting tighter with every breath I take, my lunges decide to give up on me. And then I can't breathe. I can't bloody breathe. John. Where's the plague when you need her?
"John, I ch-" My voice gives out too; there's nothing left in me. "joh-" It's completely quiet now. Just a helpless muted croak lost somewhere in the corner of the room. I feel it getting less and less bearable. And closer, so close, no air. I could just give in to it. But I couldn't- Not now. I have a friend. I have- something.
No.
My eyes fall shut. I hope they find me. Before-
I can see a little room, a door opening up inside my mind and a light, so clear. All bells are ringing and heaven breaks lose all around me, but I don't care. It's so bright. I can almost touch it.