Billie clutched her forehead, and thick silver blood leaked from a gash where she had hit the table. It wasn't quite enough to knock her out or impair her vision, but it was definitely enough to weaken her. The blow to the head must have affected her healing ability. Or Rassilon had taken them away.
Either way, she was as good as mortal until he decided to let her come home.
"What happened to you?" Girlie asked, wiping some tears off her face.
"He kicked me out. Doesn't want me meddling with his plans." She rolled her eyes.
"He's hurting Prez."
"I know. Don't worry, it's not that bad right now. She's just going to have some pretty bad hallucinations and headaches for now."
"You know how Prez was originally going to marry Theodore Beauforte?"
"She's having visions of him. What would happen if she never met Bill."
Prez slowly pushed the door open, looking around fearfully. He would be home by now. Or maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was out drinking and didn't know she was home late. Or maybe he was home, waiting to go into a rage.
She didn't know what scared her more.
"Turbo?" She called, not removing her coat - it gave her a sense of safety, albeit a small one.
No answer from inside the house. She let out a sigh of relief and removed her coat, hanging it up and trekking up the stairs quietly - just in case he was here and asleep. She could probably lock herself in the spare room before he noticed that she was here.
She'd done a good job of covering up the bruises he'd given her over the past almost-ten years, and usually covered the left side of her face with her hair when he gave her a black eye.
She hadn't been at the Mystery Shack in over a year. She had rarely left the house in over a year. Theodore had taken a turn for the worst, and when she wasn't home like a 'good little wife,' he would be furious and beat her worse than ever.
She longed for the days before Lily died. When he would surprise her with flowers or help her with the cases.
She hadn't spoken to Dipper, Mabel, Wendy, or any of her other friends since she'd been put under semi-house arrest. The only person she'd seen in the past three months was Girlie, and Turbo had changed the locks so that she couldn't get in when she noticed the bruises.
She didn't hear him sneak up behind her. He twisted her sore arm behind her back, and she winced, letting out a pathetic whimper.
"Where the hell were you?"
Oh no. He'd been drinking.
"I was just stopping at the store."
"Liar." He growled and kicked her legs out from under her, holding her up by her wrists. All of her weight was now on her arms, strained from all the housework and the time she'd tried to fight back. She cried out in pain.
"Turbo, please, I love you -"
"Skip the dramatics, Prez."
She gasped and woke up, her face wet with tears. Prez sat up quickly, wiping the salty trails off her face.
She was okay.
She wasn't covered in bumps and bruises.
She wasn't going to get beaten up.
She was fine.
She was . . . in bed?
Prez looked around the room, confused. She recognized the slanted roof, the wooden floors, the two beds, the large amount of posters covering the opposite wall.
"Am I in . . ."
"The Mystery Shack, yeah." A familiar Scottish accent replied. Prez's head immediately snapped to her brother-in-law.
"Where's Girlie? How did I get here?"
"Girlie took off in the TARDIS, and I got you here with a little help from Wendy and Mari Anne. What happened?"
Prez shuddered at the memory. "I don't wanna talk about it. Bad vision . . . nightmare thing . . . oh, shit, your wedding! I am so sorry!"
"You're forgiven." Something in the look on his face told her that she wasn't forgiven at all.