A/N: And we're back with Clara...
Sanity Long Gone
CHAPTER VII
Outlast
Time to run.
Clara was sick, dizzy and in pain as she hurried into and through the corridor to the lift.
"Well, aren't you a quick little buddy?!" echoed from behind her.
Luckily for her, with the big shears in hand, Trager couldn't run so fast, but he was still quick... It would be great to shake him off, but that was simply not possible, as her feet didn't feel like carrying her for a longer period of time. And he was close, too close to get rid of him somewhere... Not to mention that the asylum was his playground and he knew its rooms and halls much better than her.
Clara managed to tip over one of the empty wardrobes that were in the corridor as she ran by.
"Aren't you a slippery little fucker?" Trager cursed as he got a held up for a little while as Clara was dashing to the lift as if it was a sanctuary.
She stormed inside, closed the cage door and pushed the ground floor button.
"Oh, come on, buddy, we're not done yet!" Trager screamed, taking the stairs while Clara went down. Very slowly.
As she was descending to the third floor, she could hear Rick fighting the blocked cage door there.
"I'm not giving up on you," he barked while he was prising out the cage door with his shears.
Clara was scared to death.
When she was almost at floor three, Trager broke in and threw himself onto her, but Clara managed to grab his wrists, so he could not cut her nor punch her. Her wounds were burning during this, but she fought on with remarkable strength - even she herself was surprised by that... Since Trager was so malnourished - just skin and bones, he didn't have that much strength and for a moment, the Impossible Girl pushed him out of the moving lift. She struggled on for a few seconds before she moved backwards and dropped to the floor of the lift that kept on moving down... Trager followed. He tried to jump into it, but only his upper torso made it - the rest was still lying on the floor outside of it. Growling, he quickly swung his shears at Clara and the blades found their way through the fabric of her clothes and then her skin - right from her left shoulder to above her right breast.
Clara hissed and watched as Trager screamed while his body was getting crushed between the lift and floor - hands flapping around, bones cracking...
The shears fell to the ground.
Silence.
Clara broke down, sat on the floor and her heart was racing that it almost hurt. She put her arms around her waist, digging the exposed flesh and bone into her cardigan to stop it from bleeding... A few tears escaped her eyes and ran down her cheek.
Hunched in a corner. Alone.
Her watery eyes flickered across the small room and noticed a hatch in the ceiling, but she didn't bother standing up... She knew very well that she was too small to reach it. And even if she could do it, she wouldn't have the power to lift herself up. And the excruciating pain in her wounds would kill her.
She was trapped.
How long would she have to be there? There was no signal to call the Doctor... Maybe he would never come. And she would die there…
Clara looked at her right hand - her index finger was gone. Only a very small, swelled up part of dark red colour with the white small bone in the middle was all that was left of it. And the stinging pain sent electrifying impulses through her whole hand and arm. Disgusting.
She put her hand back around her waist again, the flesh against the cardigan.
And she sat there, listening to her own breathing... Anxious, sick, wounded, cold and trapped in a lift with a dead body half inside it.
X 10 minutes later X
Clara's belly was acting up again... She crawled to one of the corners right next to the door and her stomach started contracting. The small rest of food that was still inside her covered in a light creamy chyme spilled in the corner... Her chest was heaving and she retched until only a clear liquid came out of her. There was a pain in her chest, her throat felt sore from the stomach acid and her mouth tasted of vomit... The aggressive stench of it filled her nostrils.
When it was over, she crawled back to "her" corner.
There was no one to fetch her a glass of water… No one to soothe her.
X 40 minutes later X
Was she hallucinating?
It was, wasn't it? The sound of the sonic screwdriver… Such sweet music to her ears.
"Clara?" came a muffled whisper.
"Clara, please..."
"I'm here - inside the lift," she finally managed to speak, but not too loud. No one else had to know - only him.
Then she heard treads on the ceiling of the lift. The sonic again and then the hatch opened.
Relieve washed over her when she saw the Doctor's smiley face... She almost couldn't believe it.
Worries filled her as well when she saw the cut on his face and dried blood smeared under his nose and a little around his mouth.
"Clara," he smiled.
"Hey," she replied in her brittle voice, still hugging herself.
"My sonic led me to your phone. Don't worry now," he tried to calm her down when he saw her teary eyes, heard her broken voice.
The Doctor stuck his hands through the opening, "Come on, I'll pull you up."
"Doctor, I," she started softly as she got up.
Not knowing what to say, she just lifted her arms up.
The Doctor's soft and loving expression disappeared and turned into horror with the speed of light. He quickly withdrew his arms, leaned against the wall and covered his mouth with his hand whereas the other was over his hearts. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply as sorrow and mainly rage started flooding his mind and body.
Clara waited… till he was ready.
She heard him ask in a low and rough tone.
"Who's done this to you? Was it him?"
"Yes," she whispered, looking at Trager.
The Doctor stuck his head down the hatch to look at that squeezed bastard.
There was a maniacal look on his face and Clara could see the fury in his eyes.
"I would tear him apart if he was alive," the Doctor whispered.
Thousands thought flew through his mind... How scared she must have been. How painful... His blue eyes wandered over the blood-sprinkled floor to the corner where he saw the vomit, then back to her.
"Doctor, please, just get me out of here," she pleaded.
Her brittle voice softened his features and he offered her his hands again.
She stretched hers out and the Doctor gently wrapped his long fingers around her wrists in order not to irritate her wounds.
He lifted her up and pulled her slowly to him, between his legs, into an embrace.
Her hands rested between their bodies.
"Where's your shirt?" she asked him.
"I've lost it on my way together with my waistcoat, glasses and shoes."
Clara looked down to his feet and noticed that his right one was covered in blood.
"What's happened to you?" she asked, pitying him.
"It's a longer story - I'll tell in the TARDIS. Come on, we have to go."
Clara agreed quietly.
They got up and within a few moments she saw that he couldn't even walk properly. Despite his protests, she insisted on supporting him - at least a little because he was clearly in pain.
Never took it longer to walk down three floors.
Clara suggested going out through the door that Trager had teased her with, but the Doctor wanted to go through the passageway and gym into the garden and from there to the main gate. He was sure it was safer, so Clara obeyed.
It was cold and going to the TARDIS seemed to take an eternity.
But they made it.
Inside, the Doctor pulled the main lever and the timer rotors started turning as they took off. He also heard a thud, but it wasn't the TARDIS - it was Clara who'd fainted.
The Doctor was with her right away. In spite of his injury, he picked her up and carried her to her favourite place in the blue box - the dim and cosy, palace-like living room with an enormous sofa with small pillows in front the fireplace.
The Doctor sat next to her and brushed a string of hair from her face. Tiredness and traits of tears visible. A cut above her breasts. Poor Clara… At least her fingers didn't bleed any more.
After a while, she woke up and "Don't worry, we're safe in the TARDIS" were the calming words she heard.
The Doctor helped her to sit up and handed her the glass of water that the TARDIS has prepared for her.
"I think I need a shower," she sighed.
"Me too, definitely," the Doctor agreed, getting a disgusting feeling when he remembered Gluskin touching him… and lying around in blood of God-knows-who.
The glasses filled itself up, so Clara could drink some more.
"Meet me here then... And in case you feel worse, just call, alright?" the Doctor said and Clara nodded.
They both went into one of the bathrooms to wash shadow of the asylum from their bodies.
x
The Doctor lied down on the big couch and rested his head on the numerous small pillows of TARDIS blue colour. He was exhausted after that day. Mentally and physically.
His foot was still sore, but he knew it would heal quickly due to his advanced healing abilities of his body.
After a few moments, Clara joined him.
The Doctor sat up immediately and pulled her cold and shivering body into a gentle hug.
She was still in pain from how Trager had beaten her and chopped her fingers off. Still dizzy and a bit sick. Shaken. Pale as death. The TARDIS and the Doctor's arms felt like heaven right now.
They stayed like this from a couple of moments and Clara asked him curiously about what had happened to him. He rubbed her back and started telling her about his "tour de asylum", about Gluskin… Clara was listening with shock and disgust, pitying the Doctor…
A cut wound on his face – from under his eye to his jaw. Injured foot. Small cuts on his hands. A mark around his neck… Beaten like a dog.
"I'm sorry. It was a stupid idea to come here," she whispered into his neck, blaming herself for their trouble.
"Don't be, please. It's not your fault. We couldn't have known that it would be so extreme," he assured her.
Clara didn't even need inviting and automatically started telling her story… She needed to get rid of it, tell someone. She talked slowly; her voice was quiet, at some parts even broken… And when she finished, the Doctor hugged her even tighter and pondered what could have been if he hadn't got held up by the Groom. Maybe he could have saved her…
His fingers were drawing patters on her back to help her relax some more…
"May I look at your hand, Clara?" he whispered.
Clara was shocked by his answer. She didn't want him to see it, neither wanted she to look at her disturbing, disfigured hands. Not now when it was so fresh and painful.
"Clara?"
"No, Doctor. There's nothing to look at," she murmured into his neck, wanting to cry again when she remembered the snapping of the shears… It would probably haunt her some nights.
"Please," he whispered into her hair and slowly let go of her.
Clara didn't protest anymore, but only looked away when he took her left hand where her ring finger was missing. There was just a swelled up little bit of red and violet flesh, tissue and bone... It was already visible how the skin started closing itself up.
How she must have suffered… And still suffered now.
"Don't worry," the Doctor whispered before he waved his hand a little until a golden glow formed around it.
"You don't-" Clara started but the Doctor cut her off.
"Shush."
He took her hand in both of his, closed his eyes and leaned forwards, so their foreheads touched.
Clara stared at his hands and at the beautiful golden regeneration energy that was about to heal her. Her wound was suddenly warm and she felt an itch in her palm that went up to her shoulder... and the pain faded away.
The Time Lord just grew her finger back and did the same on her right hand with her index finger.
He'd tired himself out even more with this, but he didn't mind. What wouldn't he do for her…
"You didn't have to do this," she whispered, her big brown eyes gazing at him.
He opened his eyes kissed her forehead softly.
"Of course I had to," he smiled and lied back down on the sofa, still holding her hand.
Clara lay down as well, snuggled close to him and carefully put his arms around his body that would be covered in black and blue marks the next day.
"Thank you," she kissed his cheek and the Doctor looked at her lovingly.
"Rest now, my Clara, you need it," he said softly while he put his arms around her and rubbed her back gently.
"You too, Doctor."
"Do we have a blanket? I'm still cold," she asked after a brief moment.
"Of course."
The Doctor snapped his fingers and the TARDIS teleported a blue blanket on their bodies. He tucked her up, cuddled her close to give her a feeling of love and safety and this time he even fell asleep sooner than her…
A/N: So, this was the last chapter... I feel like I f***ed up with CH VII, but I hope that's just me who thinks that.
It was something entirely different from what I usually write, but I really loved writing this horror fic and I hope you enjoyed reading it!
And of course, I'll be glad if you leave kudos or/and a comment! :3