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Is my name The Doctor

By 2HeartedHuman

Drama / Other

Chapter 11

It's almost Christmas. Just a few days to go.

The Doctor was confused. Should he be excited, or upset? It's a family holiday right? Well, where was his family? They're not down stairs. No. They're not his family. He was sure of it, they took him, locked him up, give him medicine. They're not my family. He's got to remember that, got to, got to remember… remember…rem…red. What's red? It's a colour. Obviously. The Doctor has a red crayon; he uses it to draw the lady's hair. Red hair. She had red hair, his friend…Donna

Teddy's my friend. He keeps me company. Teddy's a funny name. He's a teddy bear called Teddy, isn't that a name a child would give their bear? Too young to imagine. I'm not a child. I'm a…I'm a…I'm different…

Teddy kept him company. The Doctor learnt to keep him close and hold him tight when he got scared. Whenever he was alone or afraid, when Frank got mad at him or when he had to take his medicine. He hated his medicine. It hurt a lot. Gets inside his brain and hurts it.

He hates Frank. He was mean to him. One night he came home drunk, he went into his room when the Doctor was asleep and got into bed. The Doctor woke up when he started to touch him, touch him in places he didn't want anyone to touch. He forced the Doctor to turn and face him.

In shock, the Doctor tried to push him away, he tried to tell him to stop but he didn't listen. Frank placed his hand inside the Doctor's trousers and began to caress his genitals. The Doctor squirmed in discomfort and begged for him to stop.

He whispered "No, please. Please don't…stop" He was too afraid to shout, too afraid to fight him off. He had been taught to do as he was told and never speak unless spoken to.

Frank didn't listen and continued. This time he took his hand out and used the other to caress the Doctor's wet cheek. He hadn't even noticed he had begun to cry until Frank was wiping away his tears. Frank's head was hovering slightly above the pillow, swaying slowly from his drunken state. His eyes were glassy and he blinked slowly.

"You've got to learn to be a good son"

The Doctor's eye's widened as he didn't have a second to think before Frank covered his mouth, pushed him down against the bed and rolled on top of him. The Doctor's muffled yells fell on deaf ears and remained that way for the rest of the night.

Frank didn't remember what he had done that night. He woke up next to The Doctor and frowned. The Doctor was already awake, he hadn't slept the rest of the night, he was too afraid. When Frank took in what he was waking up to, he simply stared at the Doctor, his eyes were red and bloodshot like an angry cartoon

His silence was what scared him the most. Fear rose up inside him, he knew he might hurt him again even though he didn't do anything wrong. Instead, frank remained silent and got up off the bed and left the room. The Doctor sat on his bed for a while, leaning against the wall. He grabbed Teddy and held him close in case he came back. He didn't.

The Doctor looked under his pillow and began to flick through his drawings. He read the stories, written in his own handwriting. He could barely remember writing some of it. The stories told him he was a Timelord. He wasn't human, he had been kidnapped and was now being forced to be someone he is not.

He read the stories of his so called adventures, his companions and Gallifrey. But he couldn't remember any of it. The last thing he remembers is being on another world, surrounded by books and shadows. Donna was there and Jack, no Jack wasn't there. But he could remember meeting up with Jack, the man who feels weird. Then they went shopping. And then he saw Frank and Mummy. And that's all he can remember up to now.

He had to get more medicine today. But it hurt his brain. It's messing with his head. That's why he can't remember much of his past. He can't remember where he is from, the funny word 'Gallifrey' must have something to do with it. But he can remember his name. His name was kept close to his last remaining memories, tucked away inside, not to be disturbed.

I AM THE DOCTOR. I AM THE DOCTOR. I AM THE DOCTOR.

He can remember his friends, remember their names and he knew their faces. One had red hair, Donna, and the other was tall and had a weird voice called Jack.

He can remember the blue lady. He drew lots of pictures of her. He can barely hear her in his head. She, along with Teddy comforts him in the dark. She tells him she's his friend and has been for a very long time. He didn't know what she meant by seven hundred years, but at least she's there.

He really wanted to go outside. Frank never let him out, he barely lets him out of his room. He let him out to help mummy decorate the Christmas tree but that was it. He hates him, that's why he never calls him daddy. He didn't know why he called mummy 'mummy', he couldn't remember her real name, but the stories under his pillow told him she wasn't his real mum. Ever since Frank gave him that medicine, he's been forgetting a lot of things. He just knew he didn't belong in this place, in this home. He belongs someplace else, with his friends. Where are they?


That night he saw the birdy.

He had just snuck down stairs after waking up really early. It was after he found his door had not been locked. Mummy and Frank were still asleep. The sun was just about to rise but outside was still quite dark. He wanted to get out, away from the house. He didn't know where he was going to go but anywhere was better than here.

He tried the front door, but it was locked, no surprise there. The Doctor silently groaned as he looked around for a key, an object, anything to help open the door. Then he thought of something and headed into the kitchen. The back door. It was locked too, but he'd remembered seeing Frank place the key into a drawer during supper after they had put up the Christmas tree. But what drawer? He frantically searched until he found a drawer that was quite wobbly, it held lots of cutlery, scissors, a tin opener and some keys.

He didn't know which one it was so he tried them all. He mentally cried with joy when he found one that fit, before opening the door he placed the rest of the keys back were he found them, but when he opened it again, he pulled too hard causing the drawer to fall from its place and onto the floor. The Doctor's hearts skipped a beat as all the cutlery fell to the floor, creating a loud crash. After that all went silent as the Doctor listened to upstairs. At first he thought they were still sleeping until he heard the floor creek and the sound of running footsteps above him. He ran.

He couldn't help but smile as he breathed in the fresh air. His feet grew instantly cold as they were still bare, but he still ran. He had managed to use the shed in the backyard to hoist himself up and over the back fence. It was a forest behind the house. All the trees, striped from their leaves that had fallen to the ground, which had turned all the colours of autumn. The leaves cracked as the Doctor ran over them, not stopping until he became out of breath.

He listened, for any sign of someone following him. The forest was silent. The neighbourhood was far behind him. And he was never going back. Then he heard a chirp. The Doctor turned to see what it was.

A small robin sat on a branch just above were the Doctor stood. It took him a second to realise what he was looking at before it came to him and he smiled. He couldn't help it, he hadn't seen anything living apart from his two kidnappers in over six months. He slowly crept towards it, hoping not to frighten it away. It began to whistle, singing a song to the morning sun, until it flew off.

The Doctor still grinned as he watched it fly away. It made him happy, it brought him hope. Hope that he was going to fly away from this place and be free, and he was half way there.

We'll, that's what he thought…

The Doctor stiffened as a strong-arm grabbed him from behind and wrapped itself over his chest. Then another hand came up to his mouth. Only this hand was holding a white cloth. The Doctor knew it wasn't good, he just couldn't remember why. The cloth was pressed hard against his mouth. His muffled protests were silenced. He struggled as much as he could, hoping, begging that he could get free. But he was growing weak, tired even. His eyes grew droopy and began to shut. The despair he felt after being so close to freedom. His eyes shut and everything went dark.



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