chapter one : the beginning

4861 Words
«Who are you?» She would've loved nothing else but to know that as well. «What's your name?» Did she need to have one? «Who are your parents?» Slowly and slightly, her lips, previously curved into a tight frown, parted, her big blue eyes staring up in confusion at the two people before her. «What are... parents?» It was that genuine unsureness in her faint words that led the man and the woman to exchange a troubled glance, two sets of wide eyes filling to the brim with concern. A detail that caused the little girl's frown to deepen and her mind to wander: had she said something wrong? «Amnesia.» the woman, enveloped in her oversized black and yellow jacket (one that the little girl later realised to be a paramedic's uniform), firmly declared. The little girl glance between her and her companion, who straightened up when the verdict was announced. They had previously been both leaning forth, with the purpose of matching the little girl's eye level. «D'you think it might've been a case domestic violence?» the man asked as him and the woman slowly turned their backs to the little girl, his hands on his hips. An action that left her puzzled since she still could hear them both quite clearly. «Could've been just an accident though.» He shrugged nonchalantly the minute later. «You know little kids, one wrong step and they get all fractured up—» «No, it's not that...» the woman interrupted him softly. The little girl glanced at her over the brim of the oversized orange blanket she was engulfed in, sitting in the back of an ambulance truck — the blanket itself was so big the girl had the impression she would drown in it any minute then, but somehow she still managed to keep her little head afloat and her eyes watchful. She noticed how rigid and stiff the woman's stance seemed, her hands restlessly fiddling with the material of her pockets, a mildly disturbed look lingering on her features. «You saw it yourself, Max, there are no external damages, no bruises...». The man, Max, raised a questioning eyebrow, his eyes carefully observing his companion «What are you suggesting then?» «It's almost as if it was...» the woman shifted her weight uncomfortably from one leg to another, her head briefly turning sideways in an attempt to spy the little girl behind her. Finding her still in place, her look flickered away as quickly as it came. The little girl couldn't help but notice a certain feeling lingering on her features — yet she couldn't quite put her finger on the nature of it, couldn't quite determine whether it was guilt, nervousness or something more akin to fear. The woman sighed, her breath coming out shakier than she intended it to. «... I dunno... induced.» she leaned in closer to her companion «Purposely.» At this statement, both the little girl's and the man's set of eyes bowled out of their sockets — though for drastically different reasons. «Induced? The amnesia?» he scoffed so loud the little girl behind him flinched. His loud display of disapproval earned him a frown from his colleague, which stayed put astride her nose even when he looked back at her. «You're being ridiculous, Jen.» his words were cuttingly emphasised, the look he gave the woman only underlining his point. «Well, what'd you propose it is then, huh?» the woman shot back, defensively, now glaring holes into the man's skull. Max blew a thoughtful breath from behind his lips, his hands loosely resting on his hips as his stance shifted «It's probably just a case of infantile amnesia.» he concluded after a minute, his tone somewhat dismissive and his gaze dropping down to his boots, almost as if he was avoiding glancing at either of the two sets of eyes that were set on him. Instead, he turned away, only to glance there where a police car had just pulled up in the parking lot a few feet away. It was Jen's turn to scoff «That's extremely rare, what are the chances that—» «Infantile amnesia, Jen.» the man cut her short loudly, his gaze now filled with a certain force and a newfound authority that had escaped him earlier on, perhaps because of how late in the night it was and how tired it made him. His eyes moved down, his whole stance weary and flabby, his lips leaving out a sigh «Otherwise it wouldn't exist at all, now would it?» he muttered, giving the woman one last glance. «We're done here. Come on.» and with that he walked away. The little girl, who's careful eyes observed the whole exchange, glanced at lady, whom she now identified as Jen. The woman stood there, her frown profound as she watched the back of her retreating partner, her fists and jaw clenched in utter frustration. She looked like she wanted to say something, the little girl observed, her cheeks puffing out so big that it looked like they would've burst soon. But, the minute later, all the words that got stuck in her mouth, were gobbled back down, air and air only leaving the woman's mouth. Passing a hand through her hair, she turned around, her eyes filled with pitying sorrow as she encountered the little girl's wide and questioning gaze. She sighed «Hun, listen...» she leaned back down, placing a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder «Are you sure there isn't anything you can remember?» she asked, her eyebrows scrunched up into a saddened look «Maybe a house or a person? The first letter of your name, where you're from? Anything would be helpful.» For the first time since they met her, Jen saw the girl's eyes flickering away from her own, dropping on the pavement instead, in deep thought and concentration. And so her mind wondered, to unknown lengths and unknown lands, to unknown heights and depths, in search for some, any kind of, information. She realized then, that there was a war. A tumult in her thoughts, that was eating up at the corners of her mind, chewing away the last pieces of her memory. The faintest of pains shot through her head, causing her frown to deepen. She felt unusual urges rise up to the surface, different yet quite similar in their complexion: she wanted to shout, possibly break something, cry in both frustration and sadness. Because she felt like something had been taken away from her. Something precious, something irreplaceable even. A flash tore her mind and suddenly she remembered everything, every little detail, every little moment and emotion. Her face lit up and she opened her mouth to speak, to tell the woman before her that she had to get back home, she had to save her family, she had to save him, them, all of them. But then her mind played a cruel game on her: a sharp ache suddenly shot through her temple, causing her to wince and cry out in pain. «Oh dear.» Jen's eyes widened at the sight «No no no hun, don't force it. Just calm down, take a deep breath.» It took the little girl quite a while to realize that tears were rushing down her cheeks in a persistent flow, flooding her skin with their salty consistency. «I - - I remembered.» she stammered, her lips quivering, her glossy eyes searching the floor in confusion as her hands gripped tightly onto the edge of her seat. «I remembered, I remembered everything but then - -» a violent sob shook her chest. At this point she was enveloped in a hug, a hand passing softly through her chestnut colored curls, pressing her tightly into a warm chest. «Ssh, that's alright, that's okay, hun.» Jen shushed her, gently, pressing her cheek to the girl's hair, holding her firmly against her body in comfort. «It's going to be okay.» she whispered, in a desperate attempt to make the little girl feel better. Truth be told, the whole ordeal frightened her beyond belief. She did not know what would've happened to the child after that night, she didn't know what had happened to her in the fist place and she certainly didn't know if everything was really going to be okay... but then again, what else could she say? What else would anyone say in these kind of situation, really... Somewhere, muffled by the many layers of her jacket, Jen heard a faint voice, which interrupted her tangled train of thought «Do I...» the little girl muttered. She was pushed back, softly, her radiant blue eyes encountering those of the woman. «Do I have to have a... a name?» the little girl croaked weakly, her cheek strained by small trails of dried out tears, her lips quivering ever so slightly, still. The woman smiled down at her, in a rushed reassurance «That would be preferable, yes.» «How...» The little girl stared up at her with her big eyes, her brows furrowed ever so slightly, in thought «How can I get one?» she wondered, her gaze searching desperately Jen's for answers. The paramedic pursed her lips, thoughtfully. «Well... it's not something you can get...» A flash of sadness tore through the girl's innocent gaze, her lips parting with a barely audible gasp. Jen heard it, though, her eyes widening at the realization of what her words could have caused. «But!» she smiled a gentle smile, trying to scrambling, metaphorically, back onto her feet. «I'm sure we can make an exception.» she indulged, nudging the little girl softly. Who, upon hearing these words, had to forcefully keep herself from jumping up and down in both, delight and victory, a tiny smile curving its way onto her lips. Jen's eyes brimmed with delight at the sight of such a reaction «So? Is there any name you'd like in particular?» she questioned, lightly. «I...» The little girl frowned at her feet «I don't know...» Glancing around, the paramedic struggled to find a manifest or a flier of some kind where possible names could have been written. «Umm... how about Marianne? Annie for short?» she then spoke, noticing a toothpaste commercial on a board nearby. The little girl smiled, delightfully «I like that.» «Or better yet, Mary, or Maria. Caroline, Sophie?» Jen suggested, readily. The girl before her grinned even wider, nodding along with the paramedic's suggestions as she shifted comfortably in her big, orange blanket. «Or...» that's when Jen's gaze caught a big, elaborate flier, which hung on one of the glass walls of the bus stop across the street, with a certain public figure the English were known to be quite appreciative of. Her eyes glistened with the light of a successful finding, a small gasp escaping her lips as she snapped her head towards the little girl. «Elizabeth. Lizzie for short. Better yet, let's make it Elizabeth Smith.» The little girl's eyes widened in pure adoration, her whole face beaming up at Jen with nothing love and joy. «I'd like that very much.» she stated in her little, melodic voice, her tone filling the paramedic with newfound content and lightness, a smile curving her lips. «Then it's settled, I—» «Jen! The police are here!» Max' voice interrupted the woman, causing her to spin around hastily. A soft groan then left her lip, as she straightened up, glancing at the little girl. «I'll be right back. Lizzie.» she added, softly. Little Elizabeth's smile couldn't have been wider as she nodded, giggling ever so slightly «Okay.» Throwing one last happy look her way, Jen spun around and walked off, leaving Lizzie to snuggle in deeper in the vividly colored blanket she had been given. She spent the next ten minutes watching her dangling feet, as they moved through the air from where she sat on the edge of the car, and testing out her full, new name, in various intonations. «Elizabeth Smith.» The taste of those words felt unfamiliar to her tongue, making it clear to her that that wasn't, in fact, her real name. Still, the way it so effortlessly rolled off her tongue each time she said it filled her with a certain sense of comfort and peacefulness that made her quickly accept it as her own. So she sat there, humming in silent content, all of the disturbing thoughts from earlier that night having long left her mind, buried under the weight of her brand new memories. All around her, people rushed about, policemen and doctors, black and red lights mixing up in a stew of uniforms and colors, which Lizzie cared little to nothing about. She sat still, leaning her soft, chubby cheeks on the plaid, her own little wing of protection. Nothing bothered her in that one moment, not the pitiful yet questioning states, or the hushed whispers Jen and Max exchanges with an overly tanned policeman, who said nothing expect from an occasional hum of agreement or appreciation and a slight nod of his head. It was dark and the air around little Lizzie began growing heavier, the bright, glimpsing lights of the three cars (for some reason the station had sent two police cars to the so-called event) scattered around the perimeter, being the only source of illumination. Her eyelids began to slowly drop, her tired body longing, craving for a good night's sleep and a comfy surface to lie onto. «Hey, kid!» Her head shot up into the direction of the approaching voice, her stature straightening at the sudden sound. There she saw the overly tanned policeman, who making his way to the ambulance, where she was currently sitting, followed by a young, yet a severe-looking woman, wrapped up in a long coat, with quite a peculiar hat crowning her mane of auburn, complexly styled hair. Elizabeth's brow raised in question, her bright, deep blue eyes scanning quickly her surroundings: surely enough, a new car had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The little girl assumed, that that was the car of the approaching woman. «Lizzie!» Jen popped out seemingly of nowhere from the front of the ambulance, causing Lizzie, who had been lost in her thoughts, to jump ever so slightly. «This is Miss Caroline Buchanan.» she spoke, with a smile, that the little girl couldn't help but find, in fact, quite forced. «She'll be taking you to an... an orphanage.» Though Lizzie was little, she wasn't stupid. Quite the opposite actually: she didn't miss the strange faltering, with something akin to both, masked pity and anger, of the paramedic's voice once she mentioned the place Lizzie would've been taken to. And, although Lizzie didn't know what it was, her eyebrows did scrunch down slightly: it did not sound really inviting. She glanced at the lady «Hello. My name is Elizabeth Smith.» she managed a small, faltering smile, one that Jen couldn't help but smile at as well. «If you don't mind my asking...» Elizabeth wondered, her confusion-filled blue eyes glistening with interest «What is an... an orphanage?» With a tssk, the lady's mouth fell open, her narrowed, grey eyes staring back smartly at the girl from behind the glasses that sat astride her nose. «Well.» her voice was much stricter than Lizzie could've anticipated from such a young person. «It is an institution. For... children whose parents have, sadly, passed on.» Lizzie's eyes widened, in slight fear, her glance shifting to Jen as her stance stiffened. «What is an... institution?» The paramedic was quick in noticing the change in the little girl's demeanour and was rushing to calm her down when Miss Buchanan's voice interrupted her, ever dry, yet tending on the sweet. «There's no need to be frightened, Elizabeth.» She spoke, calmly, formally «It is a fine place with fine young people, quite similar to yourself. You don't have to worry.» something akin to a reassuring smile curved her lips, though it looked more like a grimace to both Jen and the policeman, who was still standing there, silent, his thumbs hooked on the hems of his belt, his expression quite bored. «You'll fit in just right.» It was then that she heard it, for the first time. It was faint, as if it echoed through a vast space and originated from a whole different room. "Liars." was all it said. Elizabeth didn't know what it was back then, brushing it off as nothing more than the voice of her conscience. After all, it, whatever it really was, sounded just like her own thoughts, just like her own voice too, leading her to believe that there was nothing out of ordinary in the way the word echoed through her skull that night. Swallowing the knot that had formed in her throat, Elizabeth Smith nodded slowly «O-Okay...» she said, softly, agreeing to something that, she well knew, had been already decided long ago before her consent was given. A tight smile, yet again akin to more of a grimace than a grin, curved Caroline Buchanan's lips. «Lovely.» she spoke, earning herself a light glare by Jen which she, though, didn't not take account of whatsoever «Off we go then, shall we?» with that said, she spun around and began retreating back to her car, only the clicking of her shoes echoing in the nightly air. Pulling herself out of the warm embrace provided by the orange blanket, Lizzie carefully slid off the edge of the ambulance. She turned to face Jen, who was still staring off at the retreating caretaker's back, with a bothered frown sitting astride her brows. «I...» The paramedic's attention instantly shot down towards the origin of the sound, finding there Lizzie, who was nervously fiddling with her fingers. «It was nice to meet you, Miss Jen.» Elizabeth said, her wonder-filled blue eyes sparkling with sincerity as she spoke. Seeing this, caused the nasty frown to wash off Jen's face, and instead be replaced with a soft smile «It was a pleasure to meet you too, Lizzie.» she leaned down, placing a comforting hand on Lizzie's little shoulder «Please, be careful.» a tight-lipped, saddened yet encouraging smile curved her lips «And good luck.» Lizzie's fingers then stopped their wriggling, the girl beaming up at the paramedic in delight «Thanks. You too.» «Miss Smith?» a stern voice caused from the distance, and Lizzie whipped her head around to see Miss Buchanan standing by the vehicle Elizabeth has previously assumed to be hers, waiting for her. «Oh! Yes, right.» Lizzie muttered under her nose. She then turned back to Jen and gave her a wave, smiling softly. «Bye!» Jen smiled back, but the smile fell as soon as the little girl spun around, skipping off towards the beige-coloured Fiat. The paramedic noticed, with light amusement, how Lizzie saluted the ever silent policeman and Max, too, both men remaining quite stunned and surprised at such an act.  Smiling softly, Jen sent a silent prayer to whomever it was that was watching from above, then, reluctantly, forced herself to turn around and walk back to the front of the ambulance, ready to continue her nightly shift. The ride through what Lizzie learned was called "London" was quite silent, something that neither of the two souls in the vehicle seemed too bothered about. Elizabeth found entertainment in the lights outside her window, watching each of them curiously until they disappeared behind them. Even then, she attempted to keep them in her sight for as long as possible by pressing her cheek to the window, her neck craned to stare in the back. She did,  however, once turn to look at Miss Coraline with a frown sitting astride her brows, asking her a very serious question that had been bothering her for the whole length of their drive. «Is this a small ambulance?» The stern woman raised an eyebrow, her eyes briefly shifting to the little girl from the road «Pardon?» «Well.» the girl spoke, frowning down in her lap «Jen and Max said that the vehicle I was sitting in previously was called an ambulance. Yours is smaller. Why is that?» «It's not an ambulance.» the woman replied, ever so slightly concerned. The little girl's memory clearly took quite a tumble, she thought. «It's a car.» «I see...» little Lizzie muttered, glancing back down on her lap, her confusion, though, still prominent on her young features. Her eyes flickered over her hands, in thought. Then she turned back to the lady beside her «Does every vehicle here have their own, proper name like people do, then?» Miss Coraline's answer to that particular question is not that hard to guess. The rest of the ride, was quite silent. Of course, the engines rumbled, the streets and, more particularly, the cars that drove down them, sang their concerto, sounds echoing from all around Elizabeth, with a few solo singers hearable every now and then whose words I rather not repeat. The orphanage was quite an imposing building, indeed. So were the mahogany doors, the few barred windows and the long, squeaky hallways. The setting was quite eery to say the least, especially at night. But Lizzie, not knowing any better, was more than happy with it. Her room was quite small, yet spacious because of its quadrangular form. It was a wonder how they managed to fit a bed, a desk, a chair, a wardrobe and a nightstand in that little thimble-sized, matchbox space. Somehow, though, they did. And that was where Elizabeth was destined to live in for the next few years. «Well, then.» Miss Coraline's voice broke the silence of the dormant building. Lizzie's eyes snapped up to face her from where she sat, dangling her little feet off the edge of the bed. A grimace, one that Elizabeth had by now learned to identify as a smile, curved the caretaker's lips. «I'll leave you to settle in, then.» Lizzie smiled back, kindly, thankfully. Noticing that, the woman's hard face did soften in the slightest, something very much akin to a smile ghosting the corner of her mouth. But that was as much as Lizzie got that day, which was much more than she was going to get in the upcoming years. It was when a sudden drowsiness had washed over her, that Elizabeth finally decided to lie down. Only to jolt back up, because of something poking her uncomfortably into her side. Her eyes widened down at the pocket of her hoodie, her heartbeat picking up its pace at the fear yet curiosity that shot through it, caused by the unknown source of her previous discomfort. Hastily, she threw the greyed cloth off of her body, tossing it onto the bed as she herself bounced on her feet and cowered as far as she could from it, squishing herself onto the opposite side of her room. Her chest rising up and down, her eyes observed carefully the lump on her bundled hoodie, warily. Now, Elizabeth was a lot of things, but a coward, even at that young age, was not one of them. Her behaviour, in fact, was completely justifiable: you see, she had been carefully checked over by the two paramedics earlier that night, and neither had found any objects on her, leading to them asking her further questions, attempting to solve the enigma that she was. It was as if the object had magically appeared in her pocket, a fact that made Elizabeth quite chary in approaching it. A rather unfortunate fact about the little girl, though, was that she was quite curious. And in the end, her curiosity always won over each of her possible fears, however justifiable they were. So, carefully, Elizabeth tiptoed back to the other side of her room, dropping on her knees as she did so. Her wide eyes watched over the edge of her bed one of her few possessions lie sprawled on the bed, seemingly moveless and harmless enough. Slowly, she raised her hand and poked the material, retreating her hand as fast as possible, back into her hiding spot. When nothing happened, her brows furrowed. Carefully, she straightened up, her ever scrutinizing eyes watching the object. Then, still quite warily, she reached her hand and, fumbling with the fabric, slowly pulled out what it was that had caused her her earlier uneasiness. The object was shiny. It was little and round, metallic yet, strangely enough, warm. All too big for her all too little, 5-year-old palm. One of the beams that emanated from the lamp on her nightstand collapsed ever so gracefully on it, only to bounce off a moment later, disappearing in the dimmed room as nothing more but a mere reflection. Elizabeth Smith, her lips now parted, stared down at the item in her hand, every single trace of fear washing off her eyes, replaced by pure wonder and curiosity. The object was heavier than it looked, which made Lizzie automatically wonder what it contained on the inside. When she did reach for the lock, however, the button wouldn't press, as if got somehow jammed or had gotten rusty over the years, making it impossible for the hatch to snap open. She tried harder, a frown wrinkling her young skin as she gritted her teeth, hands pressing and turning with as much force she could muster, a grunt escaping her lips as her attempts failed. Nothing worked, and she was way too afraid to break the only clue she had to her past to risk trying to break the lock with a pointed object. Instead, she climbed back onto the bed, holding the round object with as much care as she could, afraid to somehow damage it. Once her legs were safely tucked under her, she placed it carefully onto the sheets, her wide eyes staring at it in wonder. To say it was beautiful would be unfair. It was purely mesmerizing. What stood out most were the various engravings: upon the metallic surface were various lithographs, depicting in perfect detail stars, galaxies and planets. Or at least Elizabeth assumed the round circles were planets, though something in the depth of her mind whispered her otherwise. And, even though, Lizzie did not remember or know much about the world she suddenly jolted awake in that night, somehow, somewhere in the corners of her memory, the stars and galaxies held a special place. They were the only thing she was certain of, the only thing which she knew for sure existed. Her eyes rolled closed at her own accord without her even noticing they did and, behind her eyelids, flashed images. Pictures of the universe, of somewhere up there, beyond the world she currently stood on, where stars and moons waltzed gracefully around the galaxies, hand in hand, dancing their way through the dark night. In that moment, she could feel the spinning of the planet, of all of them, as they joined in the waltz and spun around, to the rhythm only they could hear. They and, well, her. It was something similar to a lullaby, that filled her head as soon as her fingers reached to touch the metallic object in her possession once again. The hypnotic sound filled her ears, stuffing them with its pompous resonance. And suddenly the things she was imagining felt all too real, an acute pain shooting through her temple causing her to stifle a yelp. All the while, the lullaby got louder, and louder, slowly morphing from a calming tune to a threateningly eery sonata. It almost seems as if it were slowly taking a form, a crawling one, whose point of desire was her. And as Lizzie's breath got heavier and heavier, it got closer and closer, picking up its pace as its sharped-teethed jaws unrolled open, its long nails scratching painfully at the walls of her mind. Lizzie opened her mouth with a gasp, surprising herself with her erratic breath and her hands, which were gripping tightly at her auburn hair. Her gaze flickered around in a hurry, eyes focusing on her surroundings, which, strangely enough, she didn't recognize straight on impact when her eyelids snapped open. The memories of earlier that night came back crushing onto her quite soon, though, causing her breath to hitch and a sigh of relief to leave her lips afterwards. Her wide, blue eyes snapped at the metal object on the bed, sprawled out before her, harmless and calm in its aspect. And, while Elizabeth's whole stance was now quite disheveled, her hair sticking out wildly and her orbs blown into two plates, it seemed quite unbothered by what had just occurred. Or did it?  A dreadful thought suddenly shot through little Lizzie: the feeling that, what had happened, in fact, hadn't happened at all. What if it was all just part of her imagination, a conjuring of her feeble and recently scarred mind, a mere hallucination? Either way, she was too scared that night to try and find that out. So, she did the only thing that was left to do in such a situation: she locked the object, whatever it was, in her bedside table, determined to never take it out again in the foreseeable future. Seeing it made too many painful questions and assumptions rise up in her mind, which she could not dignify with either an answer or a clearing. That, and the fear of being sucked back into that fiendish waltz, were enough doe her to avoid touching the metallic article as much as she could. She just left it there. A place where it would've stayed for a long, long time. That night, her first night at the orphanage, Elizabeth Smith had her first dream. About a man, a traveler, an adventurer. They were mere flickers of different moments, flashes from different places, different times and of different faces. She knew it was him, she felt it within her whenever she looked at him. Though his face was always different, his soul remained the same. Her mind brought her along onto his adventures, into his travels and quests. In her dreams, she witnessed as he saved planets and people, the same galaxies and stars that had flared through her mind earlier that night. But every rose has its thorns, and every up has its down. So she saw him bringing war. Destroying a planet, his own home. And, once again that night, a loud sound filled her ears, this one though radically more hellish than the one before: screams, wails of pain and howls of agony echoed through her skull, while people fell on the ground all around her, collapsing into an eternal sleep. The only thing little Elizabeth remember after that, was bolting upright in her bed, a claustrophobic feeling crawling at her sweaty skin as she got tangled in the sheets. And a loud cry leaving her lips, that would've echoed through the whole building, sealing her fate as an outcast. «DOCTOR!»
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