Her face is twisted. She begins to grow larger in size and her skin becomes red and slimy, ridged and covered in suckers. She no longer looks human. A high-pitched scream escapes my lips. I turn to run, but the creature grabs hold of the collar to my dress and heaves me upwards. The world is a blur as I thrash around, attempting to escape its iron grip. "Let. Go. Of. Me!" I fume. It drops me in surprise when I manage to land a kick to its ugly stomach. Landing gracefully is a foreign concept to me, so naturally I rolled to the ground tangled in my dress and blinded by fabric. Looking around, I see the faces of my fellow orphans. Shock and fear are painted on their faces. They are huddled under tables or crouched in corners with their trays over their heads protectively. Soon I will have only one option. "Doctor!" I yelled out into the hallway.
It was a hopeless move, but worth a shot anyway. To my surprise, he comes running into the hallway, a strange contraption in hand. It looks like a metal stick with a green tip that lights up. But as he lays eyes on the creature, he tucks it back into his tweed jacket. "So we meet once again," he chuckles. His green eyes meet the creatures beady ones. "Zygon." For a while they just stare each other down. And then the "Zygon" morphs itself into a different form. Tweed jacket, bow tie, ridiculously hilarious chin. The Doctor. "See how easy it is for me to *become* you, Doctor?" It taunted. "You can become me, but you will never really be me. That's all you are, Zygon. A copy. A knockoff. A cheap version of the real deal," he says, gesturing to himself. I smirk beneath my mask of fear.
"Fine," it retorts. "Then I will just be someone else."
The ruse of the Doctor melts away to reveal a plain small figure with dark hair and a red dress. Me.