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The Musings of a Lady in a Cage
(Or: How I Didn’t Murder a Single Soul for Six Whole Months and Deserve a Medal for It.)
By The Mistress (or “Missy” if you insist)
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January 23, 2017 – Day 25,567
Seventy years.
Seventy bloody years in this ridiculous vault.
And yet, for those seventy years, I was never alone for long.
He came. Regularly. The Doctor.
Sometimes twice a week, sometimes every few days. And when he didn’t come, Nardole did - his little self-important lectures an irritating, but welcome, break from this silence.
I had company. I had words.
But now?
Now, I have nothing.
I have been left alone for seven days. A week of silence where nothing has changed. The walls have not moved, the door has not opened, and I have not spoken a single word out loud.
I refuse to believe he forgot me.
The Doctor doesn’t forget people.
Even when he should.
So where the hell is he?
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February 1, 2017 – Day 25,576
Ten days.
Ten. Whole. Days.
I have memorized every scratch on the floor.
Every groove in the walls.
Every single second of this maddening routine.
The Doctor is supposed to be here.
Nardole is supposed to be here.
I even miss the stupid tea he brings, the way he talks down to me as if I’m some child he’s babysitting.
I miss his face.
And that - that is unacceptable.
I don’t miss people.
I have spent centuries alone.
I do not need him.
But this… this is different.
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February 12, 2017 – Day 25,589
Something is wrong.
I have not heard another voice in twenty days.
At first, I thought it was a test.
Some ridiculous new lesson in redemption where I’d be forced to reflect on my evil, murderous ways.
But if this were a test, he’d be watching.
And if he were watching, he’d have responded when I started yelling at the walls like a madwoman.
I am not being watched.
I am not being tested.
I have been forgotten.
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February 28, 2017 – Day 25,605
I talked today.
Not to anyone.
Just… out loud.
I asked myself how I was doing.
I answered back.
I made small talk with my own voice.
And for a moment, I could pretend that I wasn’t completely alone.
But then I laughed.
And it sounded wrong.
Like it didn’t belong to me.
So I stopped talking.
I think I’ll stop for a long time.
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March 18, 2017 – Day 25,623
I had a dream about Gallifrey.
I was young again. Standing in the high plains, staring up at the burnt-orange sky, the endless fields of golden grass stretching forever.
And beside me was Theta.
Not the Doctor. Not the war. Not the centuries of blood and fire and loss.
Just him. My friend.
We laughed.
We ran.
We had all of time ahead of us.
And then I woke up.
To silence.
To this.
I wanted to go back.
I wanted to close my eyes and stay there forever.
But I couldn’t.
Because this isn’t a dream.
This is all there is.
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April 2, 2017 – Day 25,638
I stopped eating properly.
I don’t feel hungry anymore.
I don’t feel anything anymore.
The routine has dissolved. I can’t tell if I’m sleeping too much or not at all.
I feel like I’m slipping through time itself.
Like I exist in half a second, stretched infinitely long.
I don’t know if I’ve been awake for one hour or one year.
I am tired.
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April 30, 2017 – Day 25,666
I looked at my reflection today.
I thought I saw someone else staring back.
She looked… wrong.
Like a faded thing. A ghost barely clinging to existence.
I touched the glass.
She touched it back.
“Who are you?”
She didn’t answer.
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May 26, 2017 – Day 25,692
I punched the wall today.
Not because I was angry.
Just to feel something.
Just to remind myself that I’m still real.
The pain felt good.
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June 12, 2017 – Day 25,707
I want to burn something.
I want to set fire to this entire miserable vault.
I want to rip apart the walls, tear at the edges of reality itself.
I want to hurt him.
If he ever comes back - if he ever dares to show his face again - I will make him regret this.
I will not forgive him.
I will never forgive him.
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July 22, 2017 – Day 25,747
The door opened today.
For a moment, I thought I had imagined it.
Then I saw him.
Standing there.
Alive.
Whole.
Looking at me like he was the one who had suffered.
Like he was the one who had been left behind.
And then I saw her.
A girl.
Young. Human.
She looked wary, like she had been warned about me.
She doesn’t know me.
And I don’t know her.
I smiled, tilting my head just so.
“Who’s the pet?”
The Doctor hesitated. I saw it. That fraction of a second where his mind raced, trying to calculate the safest answer.
“This is Bill,” he finally said.
Bill.
Not Nardole.
Not River.
Not anyone I recognize.
Which meant only one thing.
It had been longer than I thought.
Time had moved on without me.
I turned back to the Doctor.
My fingers twitched at my sides. A slow, controlled movement.
I could kill him.
I should kill him.
I wanted to kill him.
Instead—
I smiled.
And then I slapped him across the face.
Hard.
His head snapped to the side.
Bill gasped in shock.
The Doctor?
He just closed his eyes, took a breath, and nodded.
Like he deserved it.
Like he knew.
I could have screamed at him.
I could have demanded an answer.
But instead, I just turned around, walked back to my corner, and sat down.
Because the truth is—
I was too tired to be angry anymore.