I am a burning star.
I wonder if I will ever be stopped.
I hear the tinkering melody of a music box, grossly overwhelmed by the constant staccato of pounding drums.
I see the raw power of time and space and how it destroys everything it touches.
I want the Doctor to see exactly what I'm capable of.
I am a burning star, flicking off the lights of those around me.
I pretend I have already won.
I feel his anger, the frustration that flares up within him as he listens to the desperate last wails of everyone I slaughter and for once he's not able to help them. But as powerful as that anger gets, it never evolves into hate.
I touch the end of the universe.
I worry that when it happens, when I try to show him everything I've accomplished, he will simply turn away.
I cry for the ignorance of two young boys sitting on the edge of a dying planet.
I am a burning star, devouring myself.
I understand that when she pulls the trigger, I will die.
I say that I have finally bested the Doctor. And I have. His screams – REGENERATE! - echo in my delighted head.
I dream of silence.
I try not to think about the bullet lodged in my chest, or his hands on my shoulders.
I hope the Doctor is looking.
I am a burning star, and damn, do I scald.