Dermatillomania

Bang. You've always hated the sound of gunshots. Always. It started a long time ago, back on Gallifrey, when you were young—young even by human standards. The sharp sound was too much for your sensitive ears, such a merciless blow of noise. It got worse later, though, when you learned exactly what it symbolized—one shot equaled one death. The moment the bang's short life had died, chances were, its target's had as well, or at least was inevitably on the way to do such. And now, this one, this shot—it's already dying away, and for someone who travels so easily through time, it's painful, so damn painful to realize that you can'