The Daughter Of Gallifrey

At night I scream. But these aren't the ordinary screams. These screams are different. They're silent. And they're caused by memories with a man's name. What's his name you ask? The Doctor.

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1. Silent Screams

I screamed. My mouth opened with no sounds emitting from the gaping hole. I watched the smoke around me block my mother from view. Everywhere is fire, burning homes. I heard the terrifying cries of the metal enemies I grew up to fear. And then a hand grabs mine. I'm spun around to face an old man. He ran with me, until we crouched behind the remains of what once was a home. 

"Who are you?" I asked, my childlike voice pitiful. The man glanced at me, and I suddenly remembered where I had seen that worn down face. "You're the Doctor!"

"My name was once the Doctor," he said sadly. "But the privilege of that name has long since left me. I'm more of a warrior than a doctor. But no more." When he stood to leave, I cried out, grabbing his hand desperately.

"Please don't go!" I begged, tears running down my cheeks.

"I must," the Doctor said. "I must stop this." Screams echoed from far away as more people fell into our robotic enemy's hands.

"How can you do that?" I asked him. He looked at me sadly, studying my tear streaked face, before pulling away and running. Before I could follow, my mum appeared from within the smoke and cradled my body in her arms. Then she was up and running. Everything seemed to blur as I was shoved into something metal. The last thing I saw was my mother's ash streaked face, mixed with tears as she cried through her blue eyes. And the last thing I heard was my mother's loving words.

"I love you, Draitha."

And with that, I fell through darkness and time. It went on and on until a scream came from my mouth, and this time it was real.

I bolted up in bed, tears running down my face, as I tried to rid myself of the nightmare. Running a hand over my sweaty face, I swung my legs out of bed and rested my face in my hands, trying to clear my head in the silence of my flat. My room mate, Jenny, slept peacefully in the bed next to me, so I calmed my breath, trying hard not to wake her up. When I finally got the memory out of my head, that stupid echoing voice spoke once again, with its gravelly tone. Doctor, Doctor, Doctor. Again and again. Sighing, I lay back down, not really wanting to go back to sleep, but succumbing to the rolling depths anyway. 

*******************************

"Wake up, sleepy head!" a bellowing voice, well, bellowed into my ear. I sat straight up, and ended up smacking into the face of the bellower. Pain exploded on my forehead, and painted colors across my vision.

"Ow," Jim cried, clutching his eye as he doubled over in pain. "Dawn, that hurt!"

"I could say the same," I gasped, clutching my forehead for a moment. We sat there for a second, both clutching our faces. Jenny woke up from our noises, and promptly burst out laughing at the sight of us. She sat up in her white bed, an exact copy of mine. The white room was filled with light, signifying it was morning.

"Not funny, Jen," Jim whined, uncovering his eye. He turned to me. "Is it bruised?" I gave him a quick glance, and shook my head.

"What about me?" I asked, uncovering my head. Jim shook his head and left the room. Jenny gave another laugh and stood. Retrieving her suitcase from the corner of the room, she laid it on her bed and opened it.

"Better unpack too," she said to me, and I sighed, not wanting to, but knowing I should. I dragged my red suitcase to the bed and unzipped it. Jim entered with an ice pack over his eye as I began to hang shirts in the closet.

"Why didn't you get me one?" I asked him. He plopped onto my bed before explaining.

"Cause you hit me, not the other way around," he replied, peering into my suitcase. As I took my skirts off of the stack in the suitcase, he picked up a shirt from underneath them.

"Hideous shirt," he said, studying it with one eye, as the other was covered with the ice pack.

"Yeah, cause you would totally know what woman's fashion is," Jen teased. Jim rolled his eyes as he tossed the shirt at me and dug back into my suitcase.

I laughed, but my face fell as he pulled out some familiar red robes. They were small, meant for a child of 7, maybe 8. Strange gold circular patterns covered the hem and sleeve. A bitter look crossed my face, and I turned back to my dresser and pushed the skirts over to make room for the jeans. 

"What are these old rags?" Jim asked laughingly, studying them. 

"Memories," I said briskly, not showing my face. "Bittersweet memories."

"What's the gold circles for?" Jenny asked. 

"My family was religious," I lied, closing my eyes and sitting on the bed. I curtained my face with my sheet of brown hair. "They were special robes we had to wear." 

"What religion were you?" Jim asked, putting down the robes and sitting next to me. I shook my head, a small smile taking over my mouth. 

"You'd have never heard of them," I told him, standing up and placing the now empty suitcase underneath my bed. I picked the robes off of the bed and knelt in the closet, folding them back up again and placing them on a high shelf behind some school books. 

"Come on, try me," Jim said. I smiled sadly once more. 

"Gallifreyan," I told him. "My religion was Gallifreyan."

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