The Girl of Time (Doctor Who Fan-fiction)

Chapter 5

"When am I picking you up?" Stan asks from the car, resting his elbow on the open window.

"In two hours," I say. Although my appointment only lasts for forty five minutes, I want to have some time to myself before I have to go back to the over secure house. I know it's for our safety, but it's a little excessive. Well, Ann is excessive at least. As for Stan, well, I think the fact that he's dropping a thirteen year old off at the front of a building at dusk without a phone expecting...well, you get the picture.

I walk into the psychologist office and sit down in the dimly lit waiting room that smells like lavender threw up on a bar of soap. In the corner a small radio plays a quiet melody. I personally hate it, in fact, I hate everything about the place, especially the psychologist. She's, eh, she's so, oh whats the word! Well, you'll find out.

The cherrywood door opens and a young woman comes out in tears. Behind her, the psychologist leads her out of the room.

"Okay, well, I'll see you next week. Brielle, go on in, I need to lead Ms. Harper out."

I stand up and slowly walk into the room of torture. It's the same as the waiting room, except the only furniture is a chair, a table with a box of tissues, and a big couch. I make my way over to the too firm couch and wait for the physiologist. She comes in briskly, muttering something under her breath. Finally, she sits down.

"Are things any better?" She asks this every week. I just shake my head, if anything my dreams are longer and happen more often. But, she doesn't need to know that.

"So, your still having these...episodes that have that man?"

"You mean the Doctor? Yes."

"But, he changes, correct? From one person to another?"

"Yes."

"He's still...extraterrestrial?"

"You mean alien? Yes, nothing has changed!"

"So, these "visions" you have when you go into the comatose state, haven't changed?"

"Well, it's always a different setting and situation, and he has his different forms, but no, other than that, nothing has changed."

"And you still believe this is real? That it is set in our reality?"

"Yes. These are not dreams. They are way to realistic."

No, they're not. Uh, listen," she says, shuffling in her chair, "your case has really confused me, and I really think this is beyond what I can help. I know you have seen more doctors before, but I'm going to refer you to a neurologist. Until we figure out what this is, we need to treat this as a serious condition. I'm sorry, but unless you can be diagnosed with a true mental disorder, and not a disease, I can't do anything to help you. All I can say is go to a doctor who might be able to help you more."

I just sit there, staring all my hate into her. It wasn't the first time a doctor told me they couldn't help me. I've gone to a neurologist before, but he referred me here, and now she's referring me back to a neurologist. This is just great. Awesome. Once again, I get tossed around like a bean bag, while I STILL don't know what's wrong with me.

~🌺~

Well, she just kicked me out, so now I have an hour and a half to kill. I would just go to Alyssa's house, but I'm pretty sure she's not home. I can't call Stan to pick me up either, for I don't have a phone. This day couldn't be any worse right now. I mean, isn't this how many horror stories start? With a small girl alone on the street at evening?

I do have one thing to pass the time. Think. My life revolves around my thoughts. It's the only thing that stays private, no one else knows what goes around in my head. Nowadays, my thoughts have a sort of general theme...I guess I don't really have to tell you what.

Who's the Doctor? I know he's a time traveling alien called a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey. But, why does he show up in my Dreams? Why me? What did I do? (I don't know if you noticed, but my life practically revolves around the Doctor. In my defense though, he showed up in MY dreams, not the other way around. Anyway...) Is he even real? Again, I don't know. If he is real, this makes this even weirder. Still, i just don't know. I don't even know anything about my very own life.