Sometimes, I used to sneak out of the house and lay out on the grass of the garden late at night, looking up at the stars. I used to look up in wonder, counting all the little bright, shining dots, shimmering little glimpses at other worlds, worlds I willed to belong to.

It was the sort of thing wannabe astronauts did, but I didn't want to be a Spacewoman. No, I just wanted to go somewhere else. Anywhere else. Surely up there all the awful things of Earth were irrelevant. All the pressures of being young were non-existent up there. Any terrible memory or life event I had experienced would not matter up there.

I wanted to be somewhere else. I wanted to get away.

At the age of seventeen, I had done very little with my life. Out on the grass, I could close my eyes and imagine a world where my life so far had meant something. I could imagine a life where I meant something.

The last time I went out into the garden, I was in despair. I needed an escape, I needed out of the house. I would sometimes rather sleep outside than sleep in my room where I was faced with constant reminders of everything that had gone wrong, reminders of my parents, of my foster parents.

I didn't get nightmares when I slept outside.

So I laid there, in nothing but a vest, shorts and my dressing gown, counting the stars. It was a light night, with minimal visibility.

One, two, three, four, five, six... seven... eight... nine...

Nine was all I could see, all I could make out.

I let out a sigh, closing my eyes tightly. When I opened them again, my vision fixed on the ninth star I had caught sight of. As if it was a shooting star, I found myself willing my mind to come up with a wish.

What to wish for when your entire life is just one big mess?

"I wish..." I breathed out, my voice barely audible. "I wish to get away. I wish to go out into the world and do something incredible. I wish to do something important. I wish I was important,"

The next day, my life changed. The next day, I met the Doctor.

***

Word count: 385 

***