I want to thank everyone who's been reading.
Chapter 4: Guilt and Thirst
The Doctor found himself suddenly awake. His hands touched the icy stone ground. He was about to think how cold the ground was, but then realized that it wasn't the ground that was so cold, it was his own hand. The next thing he noticed was that he could feel every microscopic ridge and bump on the hard floor. He could almost see a picture of the ground, even without opening his eyes.
Then, he heard the whimpering. He nearly laughed when he heard it, it sounded so pathetic. The noise seemed to be coming from close by and with his newly heightened hearing he could hear the noise bouncing off some close walls.
The Doctor opened his eyes. He kept telling himself that it was out of curiosity, but one single feeling was beginning to make its way to the forefront of his mind. Hunger. Thirst. Whatever you want to call it, it was a need that the Doctor now had and one that he had never had before. It was more than just a need, it was like a parasite growing in his mind. The longer he went without drinking, even though it had only been a minute since he'd woken up, the more prevalent the feeling became.
The Doctor gulped, attempting to push it down. He stood up, feeling stiff, as if he was in a new body that hadn't been used its limbs yet. He now saw the small chamber that he was in. The walls were the same kind of stone pattern as the tunnels and the floor was the same concrete. How old was this room? The Doctor gauged sixteenth, maybe seventeenth century, but he wasn't sure.
What he did know is that it was like seeing an entirely new world. Everything was clearer, everything was brighter. He felt like he was looking out of someone else's eyes. Even a time lord didn't see the world in this way, with such breathtaking clarity and beauty.
He smiled when he noticed the old man sitting in front of him. The old man was tied to an old renaissance-looking chair and had a band tied around his mouth, preventing him from speaking, only his muffled screams could be heard.
The Doctor stepped towards the man. He could smell the man sweating with anxiety, he could literally smell the old man's fear. The man's heart was beating double time with terror. Hearing the soft beat of his heart calmed the Doctor and he smiled.
The man squirmed in his chair to no avail as the Doctor approached. Something in the Doctor's head didn't like this. It knew this was wrong, but the rest of the Doctor wasn't listening. His hunger was driving him now more than his mind and before he knew it he was standing over the man, sniffing him, inhaling his prey's intoxicating aroma.
What are you doing?! Something inside him shouted. Maybe it was his conscious, maybe it was something else, but either way the Doctor regained some control over himself and hurriedly brought his head away from the man's neck.
An image of Clara's face flashed in his mind. What would she think of him and what he had almost just done? But then his thoughts turned. Oh how young she was, so passionate and with so much energy. Surely she would taste as good as all of this. The Doctor found himself licking his lips.
"No. No." He muttered to himself. He found it strange that his voice hadn't changed at all.
Unfortunately, the old man decided that now was a good time to attempt escape and he began to squirm and rock his chair again. The Doctor's thoughts interrupted, he turned back to the imprisoned man. The Doctor's pale hands found their way onto the man's shaking shoulders.
"Relax." He said without looking down at the man. He couldn't, he knew what was coming for the man and he was helpless to stop it. The man's tremors increased. "Just relax!" The Doctor cried angrily. He realized that he was shaking now too, but whether it was from guilt or thirst he couldn't tell.
The Doctor clenched the man's shoulders and suddenly there was a crack and the man began to sob. Now the Doctor knew why he was shaking. It wasn't from thirst, it wasn't from guilt. It was from adrenaline, coursing through him. It was from the thrill of seeing his prey so terrified. Ragged breaths escaped the Doctor's mouth. To his credit he tried to resist, but he couldn't.
Suddenly, it was like his brain had been relegated to a secondary position. His instinct took over. He bent down towards the old man's neck and gently placed his cold hand on the man's corroded artery. He could feel it pulse, it was a comforting feeling.
He was vaguely aware that his own two hearts were still beating, slowly, but they still carried a rhythm. And he thought how odd that was, but then his body really did take over. His hunger drove him now.
His mouth came quickly down onto the old man's neck. The old man howled with pain, but the Doctor didn't even here him. He attacked his prey with the strength and skill of a seasoned predator. He didn't even need to think about what he had to do, his body automatically did it.
As the Doctor worked and as the old man cried, the door to the chamber opened partially. The Doctor didn't notice and the old man certainly didn't. Blood red eyes peered into the chamber and watched the Doctor excitedly. They were Welden's eyes and their excitement was matched by his devious smile, showing all of his far too white teeth. A snicker escaped Welden's lips and the door closed again, leaving the Doctor to finish off his dinner.