I look up and down the street, making sure no one is there. How much time have I waster thinking? As I cross the frozen street, I look up at the stars. They've become more vibrant since the last I looked at them. Maybe half an hour?

I get to the other side of the street and start walking past the all-too-familiar shops. A fabric store, a pub, a hotel. I brush my right hand along the side of the buildings as I walk past them. I haven't done this before. I've never touched the buildings, experienced the true life that goes on inside them. I imagine the men raving at the pubs, getting drunk and messing with your barmaids. Or women in the fabric shop, picking up new needles, threads, and buttons, getting ready to make some more clothing. And in the hotels, happy greetings from the staff and getting to know the people whom you have no idea how long they're going to stay.

Life.

I kind of miss it, but at the same time don't. I want to experience the rush, the people you talk to who make you laugh, the drunks at the bar, the women in the fabric shop, I really do. I just don't want the aftershock.

I start whistling when I see the park that my staircase is beside. Oh, the park. It would be quite beautiful, if I actually cared for this kind of stuff anymore. But, yes, if you're wondering, I have memorize every singe detail of it. There are a few trees, but most of it is just grass. It has a stone path running through the middle and a black, short fence surrounding it. Even though its nothing like the ones in Manhattan, it still reminds me of the big park we were in. We sat back to back and I read a book, supposedly out loud. It was great fun, until Rory went to go get coffee. Thats the after shock I'm trying to avoid.

I make my way past the park, quickly taking a glance and then looking away. I take a deep breath. Don't think about it. Just don't. Think about anything other than a park, other than a garden, other than that special girl who waited 12 years. Stop. But I couldn't stop myself. It's like telling someone 'don't think of a purple elephant' and they start thinking of a purple elephant.

I wish it was easier to forget.

I stretch my arms up above me and lift my feet a centimetre off the ground to reach the cold ladder. I was tall enough that even if people jumped up, they wouldn't be able to reach it, but that one extra centimetre made me feel extra safe. In that blue box are my deepest, darkest fears. And if anyone ever saw them, it wouldn't only hurt me, but it would hurt them, too. You saw how Jenny reacted, and she only saw the tip of the iceberg.

I sling my arms down, propelling the ladder towards the ground. It stops right above my ankle, and I start climbing it. I only climb the first few rungs and let it do the rest. It goes up by itself, that's how no one can reach it. And then, when you go up with it, you disappear as well. I told you, perfect hide away. Where no one can see my secrets, literally.

I climb up the last rungs on the ladder and plant my feet firmly on the platform. Now is the hard part. I start walking up the steps. I hadn't realize how cold it had actually gotten since I arrived here. Fall is in way, but the trees haven't even started changing colour yet. Weird, but, not weird enough. No, I'd need something amazing to get me out of this slump, and honestly, I don't think I'll find anything amazing enough. What's going to get me out of this is something interesting, someone who shows me what I've needed to see all along. But that's going to be hard. The last person that did that was Amelia Pond, and look what happened to her now.

Going up the stairs is all me. There no magic, no simple physics, no time lord tech. No, just something everyone can do if nothing's stopping them-- walking. And that's how I get to the top of this stormy rain cloud, by going up each and every step. All I do is walk, and all it is is a big staircase that drains the energy I never had in the first place.

I don't think I'll go out more, not that isolating myself has helped in any way. But by not going out, I'll have time to think. Thinking is the only thing I seem to have time for now-a-days.

I step onto the cloud. Now the cloud, that's where I changed some things around. No one can stand on a cloud, that's just basic science, but change the density, and you'll get a different outcome. So here I am, walking on a cloud, going into the big blue box of doom.

I pushed open the doors, like I always do, but this time without a care in the world. And I don't mean that like I'm insanely happy and have nothing on my mind except for 'a smile on my face and the kindness in my heart', I literally mean no care for anything.

Now is when I think.

As soon as I walk into the TARDIS, the doors close behind me. It's a little routine we have established without words. After 87 years of just you and a console, you don't need words to speak anymore. I rarely spoke unless I was muttering without realizing, and the TARDIS never hummed anymore. Jenny, the TARDIS, who's next?

I sat down on one of the chairs around the console and realized something. Facts aren't just an enemy. No, they're more than that. They let you see a person for who they are, or let you learn something new. But in this case, this unique situation, facts are my enemy. Because of one fact that's been in my mind for 87 years.

Amelia Pond is dead, and there's nothing I can do to save her.