Checkmate (Doctor Who fanfiction)

A Three Month Lie

Screaming. Everything since I pulled that trigger was filled with screaming. Sometimes I didn't even know where the screaming came from, and sometimes the screams were just echoes in my ears that no one else could hear. But sometimes they were really happening, and they rang in my ears for days after.

All I knew was I was losing my grip on reality.

First I was in the Rocky Mountains, running for my life. Then, there was a gunshot, a scream, and then I couldn't move and was being carried by two men, with more screaming going on around me. Even if I could've, I wouldn't have moved.

Then, I was sitting in a bathtub, silent and naked, and imagining that I was simply a part of the void. I didn't even hear the scissors, even though they snipped away for a long time. I didn't feel them, either, so I didn't know what they were doing. I didn't know what was happening. I was slipping away from reality, and I didn't care. I was pulled from the bathtub, and I stepped over the clumps of black strands on the floor. Someone dried me off, and put me in an off white, plain shirt and featureless black pants.

Someone combed my hair, and then a young man walked in, and smiled at me kindly. I blinked at him. He had short blonde hair and blue eyes, and wore a white coat. In his arm, he carried a clipboard.

"Ruby," he said. "I'm Doctor Rill. Good to meet you." He held out his hand, but I just looked at him. He lowered his hand hesitantly.

"Doctor," I murmured, the name calling me back to reality. Of course, it was just a call. I didn't actually pick up. "I didn't want to set him on fire. That's why I shot the space man. Did I hurt her?" I wandered through my thoughts like they were a maze.

The man looked back at the door, and I followed his gaze. The figure was blurry, since I couldn't see past a couple of feet away.

"She's delirious," said the person in the doorway. "I told you. Just get it over with."

"Right. Now, I'm going to ask you some questions, Ruby. So how are you feeling?" Asked Doctor Rill.

"Nothing," I answered. He leaned forward as if he'd heard me wrong.

"Could you elaborate?"

"I don't feel anything. I hear everything."

He looked like I was backing him into a corner, but I hadn't acted like a threat at all. I hadn't moved a muscle. Was that scary? Should I be moving somehow? Would moving my shoulders or chest so people could tell I was breathing help?

"Okay, um, what do you hear?"

"Screaming," I answered honestly. He cautiously wrote something down.

"Do you hear anything else?"

"No."

"Alright, how about thoughts? What are your thoughts like?"

"Dead."

His pen wrote slowly, and I could tell he didn't know how to respond to this.

There were a few more questions, but I seemed to terrify everyone with my answers.

Finally, someone came to collect and handcuff me. I followed them down the hallways, since there was really no other option.

Why didn't they kill me in the first place? Why was I still here? Why wasn't I dead?

We entered a huge white room where soldiered hustled about. They all avoided me. Up ahead, on a black platform and sitting in a chair, a man in an off-whitestrait-jacket sat, chains shackling him to his chair. I chewed on my lip, feeling something tugging me to reality. Who was he?