a Nessa Rose dribble

a non-whoniverse dribble.

enjoy. n.n

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She sat on the bench, swinging her legs and toying with a bit of lace stained red. A smile on her face as she hummed to herself the lullaby her dad used to sing her to sleep with. Blonde pig tails askew, smears of dark red across her cheeks.
Her mum was in the next room. An officer stood nearby, keeping an eye on the pretty little girl in her Sunday best. Her step-father had come and taken her brother home. Humming to herself, she looked so innocent and calm.
The door to the other room opened, and she didn't lift her head. Pale little hands dropped the lace of her dress and went to her mouth as she used her teeth to scrape the now dried blood from under her nails.
Her mother was talking in a language she didn't understand. But from the corner of her green eyes she could see the looks on faces as the adults filed out of the office.
"Stop biting your nails," her mother hissed, grabbing one of her hands roughly.
She jerked her hand back and wiped it on her dress. It had been so pretty when the nanny had dressed her just five short hours ago.
She waved to the officer as she followed her mother down the hallway, then skipped ahead with a giggle. Outside, she spun in a circle, watching delighted as the skirts of her dress flared out then settled back down around her legs. But her brief moment of joy was cut by her mother's barking for her to get into the car.
She did as she was told with a sigh, sitting in the back seat and buckling herself in.
"When we get home, you're going to clean up and go straight to your room," her mother said from the front seat as they pulled out of the parking lot.
She smiled and nodded, turning her head to look out the window.
"What posessed you to stab an elderly man in the stomach? Now, we have to move. Again. Of all the things-"
"Bastard want'd ta touch me naugh'y place," she said, turning her head back to look at her mother's reflection in the rearview mirror. "Da said ta look after meself, so I was jus doin what I was told."
"You're lucky the chief inspector is on your father's payroll," Randy snapped angrily. "Otherwise, I think I might let them lock you up so you'll learn your lesson."
The 10 year old just smiled and turned her head again to stare out the window, humming to herself her favorite lullaby.