13th Doctor x reader

Voices

Warning: self harm and triggers

You stumbled into your room, struggling to undress yourself and somehow managing to find yourself in a warm shower.

Your body instantly relaxed from the warm water hitting your body and your muscles untensed and fell loose, letting yourself breath a sigh of relief. You wished you could just stay in that warm heaven forever and never get out and face the doctor. But you knew you were drunk off your head and you needed the bed right now.

You eventually managed to switch the shower off, your head starting to ache and your vision a blurry and goggly mess. You barely dried yourself before you changed into what you were half sure looked like your nightie.

You didn't really care what state you were in. You were warm and clean and the soft mattress of your bed awaited you. You practically threw yourself into it, your whole stomach laying on the bed and only a few seconds after your head hit the pillow you fell into a deep and long needed sleep.

You didn't exactly have the most peaceful sleeps however. Your eyes snapped open as you sat up. You'd dreamt about...everything really. Everything you'd done to yourself. Every time you'd harmed yourself with a knife or with alcohol or with whatever you could find. Sometimes you'd get to a stage where you'd just use your nails and claw at your arm because there was nothing else to hurt yourself with.

Your neck was as stiff as anything and felt as though it could snap. And you had one of the worst hangovers ever, your head was killing you and you felt absolutely sick. You quickly got yourself to the toilet and felt yourself throw up as soon as you got there.

You threw up quite a few times before you could breath again and the gagging had stopped.

"Whyyyyyyyy" you wined, coughing as you stood up.

Your head was so painful you could barely move out of sheer pain. You clutched onto your head as you made your way back to the bed.

You lay with your eyes watching the ceiling as you thought about your dream. It wasn't just a flashback of everything and you swore you could feel the pain on your actual body in those dreams. But it was also the fact that throughout that dream you could practically hear the doctor talk you down. Tell you that you deserved it. It sounded childish but it damn well hurt. And you couldn't just brush it off as being something just your mind came up with and it was just some stupid dream because the doctor had said a few of those things in real life to your face.

"Jesus Christ what the hell is wrong with me" you breathed shakily, placing your hands over your eyes.

Your head was filled with the many many voices that talk you down. Telling you that you were nothing, a waste of space, a useless person. And that the doctor would never want you to travel with her. You were just a pitiful human. She hated you and you're a burden to travel with.

"Shut up!" You shouted, grabbing the hair around your ears as your anger only seemed to spur on the voices.

You wined, this really not helping your situation. The voices grew louder, telling you how you deserve everything you get. And everyone knew it. Everything was your fault. And it all was.

You looked over to find that bottle of alcohol you had from yesterday but couldn't seem to find it anywhere. You searched frantically, almost ripping your hair out from the voices.

"Just...leave me alone!" You seethed through your teeth.

Of course they didn't ever stop. You looked through your things, begging for the voices to stop. And you then crossed the one thing that seemed to be able to help get rid of them all. It was your pocket knife.

You grabbed it, sitting on the bed and twiddling it in between your fingers, getting tired of the voices. You almost screamed at them but you decided to just get on with it and finally silence everything.

You took your knife, placing it at your wrist and pressing the sharp metal down, tearing your skin. You hissed and cried in pain as you dragged the knife across your wrist. You watched the blood deep out of your cut, trickling down your arms. You took your knife again, placing it just above the cut and digging deeper into your skin, cutting another line across your wrist, earning a painful cry from your lips.

But you could hear every single voice come together in your head and start to count the cuts you made. One...two...three......

You couldn't take them anymore and so took your knife and practically stabbed your arm with it, digging really deep and dragging the knife all up your arm. You screamed and shouted in pain but all you could focus on was the amount of blood dripping down from your arm.

Your pain did do one thing though. It finally made the voices start to disappear. You could barely see your arm as it was covered with crimson blood so you took to your other arm. You dig into your wrists, the pain shooting across you as you cried at the sharp pain. And you continued to drag your knife up your arm.

But the voices were going away. No one was saying anything anymore. It was silent with only your own cries filling the room now. You lay on your bed with your bloody knife in your hand and every second you lost more blood. It was strange how right now, while you were in pain and dying you felt most at peace. The world wasn't talking to you anymore. It was just you. In the room with your knife and every drop of blood spilling from your arms, taking every drop of life you had with it. And you didn't want it to change. You wanted to be left here, in the silence.

But of course you could never have that. You could hear banging a coming from your door.

"(Y/n) is everything okay in there?!" You knew who it was. "Open the door!"

Of course it was her. She would never just leave you alone.

"(Y/n) you better not have done something stupid in there!" She shouted more urgently.

You didn't move, partly because you didn't want to and partly because you weren't sure if you had the strength to get up. You heard the familiar buzzing noise of the sonic as she opened the door and practically ran towards you.

"What have you done!" She shouted in panic, trying to use the bed covers to cover the wounds and stop the bleeding.

"No! You...you never just let me go do you. Just stop...I don't want to carry on...please...." you begged her.

The doctor looked at you in the eyes, a saddened face spread across her features.

"I'm not going to let you do this to yourself (y/n)"