Experiment Gone Wrong (Dottore x reader)

Epilogue: Therapy

Mentions: PTSD

Rain glistened against dusk, its appearance pale in comparison to the rainforest's refreshing downpour. Amber and ruby red hues crashed together as the sunset, creating a halo of gold over the horizon and in my mind, it reminded me of him.

Of his ruby orbs that were always hidden behind a mask.

I watched as rain droplets dribbled from the window top to its white pane. Robotic hand in a fist against my chin, as I absentmindedly listened to the soft-voiced psychiatrist.

"Are you listening?"

"Yes," I responded with disinterest.

"What did I just say, y/n?"

"My feelings are in a bucket and I keep piling them on. I get it, I need an outlet. I know that." I rolled my eyes, "Are we done here?"

The therapist sighed and lifted her wrist to take a look at her watch. "Well, your mandatory 30-minute session is up bu-"

"Great, thank you so much again for today's session. I'm making so much progress." Sarcasm splashed like cold paint against my heated words and into the ears of my benevolent therapist. I hurried to get out of my seat and grab my belongings. "Seeya next time."

"Wait, y/n!" The therapist yelled out in disbelief, but it was already too late, I had left the room. Her frustrated voice carried through the office reception and vaguely into my ears.

I suppose she wanted to ask if I was interested in extending my sessions.

Considering all the shit I went through.

But no, fuck that. I am busy enough at the lab as it is. Work has been so intense ever since I got back 3 weeks ago. Everyone, and I mean everyone, has been on their toes trying to keep me from losing my shit every time someone mentions the transportation device I had stitched into my leg.

Yes, I still have it. Just in case you know?

Anything could happen. I just want to be sure I made the right choice.

I mean, I'm not going to go back, I just mean...

I...

Fuck I don't know.

I ruffled my hair and sighed as I made my way out of the reception area and into the corridor that linked the psychiatry facility to our laboratory.

PTSD.

That's what they said I had.

I don't think it's that bad and I only just got back to this reality a short while ago, there is still a chance that symptoms disappear.

And honestly, it doesn't matter anyway, I'll never have to return to that forsaken world.