[ As the minutes go by and the ritual begins to do its job, the attack on her own mind grows more aggressive until it feels like she's being squeezed from all sides. The effort it takes to block out the worst of her fears is more than she thought it would be; her fingernails are digging into her palms so deeply that she's making herself bleed. Every word is like a stab to the heart; she isn't good enough, will not ever be good enough, and will only ever serve to disappoint. She's so pathetically human and weak she can't even get through one fifteen-minute ritual.
He hates you. You gave him lives he didn't want and now he hates every part of you, Clara Oswald. He faced his regeneration hating you for it.
There are tears silently making their way down her cheeks; the effort it's taking to block out her own voice is beginning to make her sweat and make quiet noises of effort that can't be heard over any particularly loud noises.
To her left and in the brush, so still that not even the leaves move, is a stealth soldier waiting to make a move, planning to attack the moment the girl is unprotected, backs turned to her. ]
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He hates you. You gave him lives he didn't want and now he hates every part of you, Clara Oswald. He faced his regeneration hating you for it.
There are tears silently making their way down her cheeks; the effort it's taking to block out her own voice is beginning to make her sweat and make quiet noises of effort that can't be heard over any particularly loud noises.
To her left and in the brush, so still that not even the leaves move, is a stealth soldier waiting to make a move, planning to attack the moment the girl is unprotected, backs turned to her. ]