The gravel crunches under the weight of my boots as I make my way towards the black gates of the cemetery. The place is isolated when I arrive. Just as well.
I want to go back. I want to go back the way I came, but I just can't. She haunts me. Her very essence haunts her me, even in death. No. There is no turning back.
I was once a man. There was once a time where everyone who I laid eyes upon did not cringe in fear. People used to admire me, idolise me. I was the great 'Hero with no fear'. The one prophesied to bring balance to the force.
But now, now I am a machine. Cybernetic limbs have taken the place where flesh used to be, and very little is left of my organic body.
So why is it then, that I feel these overwhelming emotions? Machines don't have emotions. They don't have hearts. These feelings prove to me that there is a shred of humanity buried somewhere deep down inside of me.
How did it come to this? Was it just one year ago that I was discussing with my beloved wife what to name our child? 'A wife that is now dead. By my hand' I think bitterly. Resentment takes over. Resentment at myself, resentment at what I've done.
A gentle breeze blows my cape in the wind and rustles the leaves of the tall, Nubian trees. I follow a long trail of dark red native roses to a small dome. I hesitate as I reach for the door knob. I know what is on the other side of the durasteel door. The past. The past of Anakin Skywalker, a man long dead. I slowly turn the well-polished knob and push slightly on the cold metal of the door.
A long marble tombstone lies in front of me, adorned with the same dark red roses that lay just outside. A hologram sat on the ledge of the stone . A hologram of an angel. She looks so... happy, so content. I've never seen such an expression on her face since before the Clone Wars.
Below the hologram, an engraving has been carved into the marble. 'Padmé Amidala Naberrie." It reads. 'Beloved Queen, Senator, and daughter. May you rest in peace'.
Unwelcome tears prick at my eyes as I grasp the cold tombstone for support. 'What have I done?' I think as tears start to steam down my face. I half expect her to lay a comforting hand in my shoulder, to squeeze my hand in support. But never again will I experience her warm, gentle touch. Never. She is never coming back.
'It's all your fault. You killed her', a ghost from the past seemed to whisper. 'You killed her. You killed her. You killed her.' The ghost repeated the mantra like a broken record.
I block the ghostly taunting out. I can take these emotions no more. She is dead. They are all dead, and nothing will bring them back. They are all just shadows. Shadows of the past.
I turn and make my way out the same durasteel door that I entered by. I need to get out of here. It feels as though I can't breathe although I know that this is impossible.
I silently bid farewell to my wife, my angel. Maybe... maybe one day he may see her. Sith hell be damned. 'I just hope that she can find it in herself to forgive me' I think. 'And then maybe, just maybe, I can forgive myself.'
