I was on a train and wondered what it would be like to be psychologically tortured by a mentally-unstable Time Lord. This is the result. Slay.

It took plenty of rest — maybe staying awake for 10 minutes at a time with 6 or 7 hour bursts of sleep — but eventually you found yourself in a state where you were able to awaken fully and sit up straight without drifting straight back to sleep again

You stood up slowly. It hurt less than it had before. The only reminder of your pain previously was a dull ache in your thigh, nothing more. You were sure it was far worse though, but as long as it was covered up in layers of gauze and bandages, you didn't mind it. At least that way it was out of sight and out of mind.

And the door opened this time. You didn't stop to question it. The moment there was even enough space to squeeze an arm past the doorframe, you were cramming yourself through the limited space and into the corridor.

You paused, glancing from left to right. You couldn't actually see either end. At some point the distance became just a little black dot. At first, you wondered whether it was just some optical illusion or mirror trick, but the further you walked, the more you realised that really wasn't the case.

It wasn't easy to see, but fortunately the floor was smooth and level. In some areas the lights overhead were stronger than others, but even when you could see there were no outstanding features. Every section looked the same, between the curved walls and the unopenable doors that were identical to the one you'd just left through.

After about 10 minutes of walking, you were starting to get nervous. The corridor looked just as never-ending as it had when you'd first set out. It was as if you'd made no progress at all, or maybe you never would.

For a moment, you almost opened your mouth to call for help, but then you remembered who you'd be calling for and immediately changed your mind. Missy was awful. It hadn't taken you long to reach that conclusion. She was a deranged lunatic. You would've preferred to starve to death on the floor.

"Oh, and just when we were having so much fun."

You spun around so fast you nearly tripped. Your heart leapt to your throat and hammered insistently against your ribcage. Missy was standing directly behind you, leaning sideways against the wall, an amused look on her face.

"And you'd dehydrate first," she corrected you. "For heaven's sake, have you ever been to school?"

"Were you following me?" you dared to ask.

She lifted her wrist to glance at her watch. "Only for the last minute. Please, I have a life, you know."

"What do you want with me?"

She cocked her head to the side and leaned closer, bemused. "What was that?"

"You've had me in wherever-this-place-is for — oh God, I don't even want to think about how long," you reminded her. "You could've let me die, but you didn't."

"That is so true," Missy confirmed with a false smile. "Great deduction skills."

"And you keep talking about humans as if they're a different species . . ." You narrowed your eyes at her. "What even are you?"

You weren't entirely sure what kind of answer you were expecting, but the laughter that left her definitely put you at unease.

"I'm your very worst nightmare, poppet. Now –"

Within a second, you found yourself sprawled across the floor on your front, disoriented and confused. The back of your head genuinely stung with a force that reverberated through your skull. You clumsily rolled onto your back, sitting up straight. Missy was crouching down directly in front of you as she leaned her weight against a tall black umbrella.

"It's my turn to ask questions." Just as you began to shuffle away, her hand wrapped around your ankle and she tutted disappointedly. "Behave yourself."

At your lack of response past your stunned expression, you felt her grip on your ankle tighten. There was no moving away; her nails dug into your skin almost to the point of drawing blood before you nodded your head desperately, if only to stop the pain from worsening.

She hummed in something that resembled approval. "How did you leave that room?"

"I don't know," you answered. "It was just open."

"It was not "just open"." Her tone became sharper, as if her patience was already wearing thin. "You are biologically locked out of all doors, so that excuse just won't cut it."

"What more do you want from me? The door was unlocked, so I left," you insisted. "You're just shit at kidnappings. Don't blame that on m–"

She caught you hair in her fist so quickly that you barely had a chance to duck out of the way, and once she had a grip, with inhuman force she was able to slam your head forward into the ground. With you on your front, she began to press her knee into your lower back, pushing a nerve that had you near sobbing in pain, which wasn't helped by her agonising grip on your scalp.

"Okay, here's how this is going to go," she said evenly over the sound of your cries of pain and desperate pleas for her to let go. "You are going to put that self-centred, bratty mindset away, or things are going to start to hurt, and trust me, my dear," She pushed her weight through her knee until you were screaming, "this is nothing."

The moment she stopped talking, her leg lifted again, although she was still gripping your head by the strands of your hair. You gasped for air, nearly hiccupping in the process.

"I'm not –" You stopped to cough, which caused Missy's grip to become firmer in the process. You only stilled again once there was a small puddle of clear bile on the floor just an inch or two from your face. "I'm not scared of you."

"Oh, aren't you now?" You were on your feet in seconds, but only because Missy had pulled you up by your hair. She dragged you forwards towards one of the doors, but you could only tell by the ceiling; she had you facing upwards and your head immobile. "Aren't you a brave puppy? Want a reward?" The door hissed. "Have at it!"

She kicked you inside, her boot colliding forcefully with your already bruised back, the second you could fit through the gap. And once you were in, the door shut itself faster than it had opened.

You squinted for a moment, but that did nothing to improve your vision. You'd been plunged into darkness, and silence too. There was nothing around you, no walls, not even a visible floor. There was ground under you of course, but it was smooth and cold, with no other distinct features.

You quickly turned around for the door, but it was gone, vanished, as if it hadn't been there at all. You even walked in that direction for about half a minute or so, finding it hard to believe it yourself. There was nothing in every direction, everywhere you turned. It was like the corridor outside, but so much worse.

Now there was nothing but you and you alone. You started by screaming, but that did nothing, nor did running in any direction, or shouting just about anything to get Missy's attention. Soon you became thirsty, and hungry, and tired. Soon you had been there for a long time.

You couldn't even see yourself, but just by reaching up and feeling how dry and abrasive the once soft skin of your face was, you could tell you were beginning to feel the effects of dehydration.

You struggled to stay awake too. You weren't entirely sure when you were awake and when you were asleep. There wasn't really anything to separate those events. You spent all of your time on the ground anyway, sometimes inching forwards in vain hope of reaching some kind of wall or barrier, and sometimes just in one place. It wasn't like you were in a state to walk properly anyway.

Missy wasn't coming back, you realised. But you weren't sure if you cared that much. You had preferred to starve to death on the floor than face her anyway . . .