Hey guys, I usually wouldn't be writing stuff like this, but this plot bunny has been practically ripping out my intestines for the past few days (wow, that's a very strange mental image), and I just really need to get it out of my system so here it goes.
I apologize in advance for any typos sadly I have no beta.
Disclaimer: I do not (and probably never will) own Star Wars or Jedi Apprentice blah, blah, blah don't sue me.
Obi-Wan walked into the quarters he shared with his master Qui-Gon Jinn, and preceded to walk into his room, palming the door shut behind him as he sunk to the floor. As he sat, he reflected on the day that had begun so well, yet, like all the others, had soured as the day unfolded.
This morning he had woken up to the beeping of his alarm clock, and quickly prepared himself for the day. As he walked through the common room towards the small kitchenette to prepare his master and himself something for breakfast, he had been pleasantly surprised to find hid master already there preparing the meal.
Obi-Wan had just taken on the task of setting the table when his master had begun to engage him in conversation. It seemed incredibly strange to him that his Master would talk to him so casually and freely, as he had made a point to distance himself from the boy, ever since they had met.
This continued on throughout breakfast, and Obi-Wan replied to all his master's questions with a 'yes, sir', or 'no sir', and kept his gaze fixed on his food throughout the duration of the meal.
A week ago, he would have jumped at this opportunity to get closer to his master and perhaps bridge the gaping awkwardness of their time together, but his master had made it quite clear that their relationship was strictly student to teacher, and he had eventually stopped trying to gain the older man's trust.
His morning classes had passed without incident, and he spent his lunch with his friends Bant, Reeft, and Garen, who had recently received a master as well.
Bant had talked animatedly about a training incident in the morning's light saber practice, and Reeft and Garen had laughed so much that Reeft had almost choked on a piece of barabel fruit he had been eating. Obi-Wan felt distant, as though he were watching their mirth through someone else's eyes, and only managed an empty smile, as Bant looked his way.
As the meal wore on Garen began to talk about his master, and the things that he had recently mastered, with the help of the training bond. Garen had only been apprenticed for a few weeks, while Obi-Wan had been a padawan for well over two months now, and he had yet to forge a strong training bond with his master, let alone gain the trust, that Garen so obviously had from his master.
After a while, Bant had interrupted to ask, "What about you and Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan?"
To which he had responded, "He is a wonderful teacher," and began eating his food again to the dismay of his comrades.
After lunch and his afternoon classes, he started off to meet with Qui-Gon in the training rooms for saber practice.
He arrived to find his master already waiting for him in the training rooms, and was greeted with a simple "You are late," to which he apologized and then began stretching.
The session began with the more basic katas as a warm up; he slid through the well-learned movements with ease until he caught his master's watchful eye, and faltered in the basic steps that 7-year old should have mastered.
"Why did you stop?" Qui-Gon had asked.
"I-I…don't know, sir" Obi-Wan had stammered, "I suppose I just… lost my focus."
Qui-Gon sighed and began instructing him in more advanced forms. The session had gone on as usual, though Qui-Gon had become increasingly irritated by Obi-Wan's 'careless mistakes'.
Obi-Wan had been relieved when the council had summoned Qui-Gon for one reason or another, and he had been dismissed early.
As he sat, he watched as the clock by his bed flashed 2:25, five minutes until his next class, he walked over to his dresser, and opened the top drawer.
He dug down to the bottom of the drawer, and then carefully unfolded the tunic there. As he did this, a small knife fell out from the folds into Obi-Wan's already outstretched hand.
He wasn't sure how long ago it was, when he first began cutting himself, but he didn't plan on stopping soon.
He rolled up his sleeve, and ran his fingers along the patterns that had been engraved in his skin, and allowed his nails to bite into the still tender flesh of his forearm.
At first, he had only made small cuts along his wrist, but as time went on, he had become more violent and had cut progressively deeper and longer slashes across his skin. Now both arms were a maze of criss-crossed lines and words spelled out in anger and blood.
'Why are you so weak' Obi-Wan thought, 'no wonder he doesn't want you,' the knife dragged across his skin, 'no wonder you can't be good enough, no wonder he distances himself from you.'
He watched as the blood pooled around the cuts he had made, and then wiped away the crimson liquid to reveal 'FAILURE' written in fresh red marks over the rest of his scars.
He looked up to see the clock switch from 2:29 to 2:30, signaling the beginning of his next class, but he didn't care.
'No matter what you do you won't be good enough' he thought as he began dragging the knife over his flesh once again, 'you will never be able to live up to his standards, if you can't even learn to control your emotions, if you can't even —' he gasped as the knife pressed harder into his flesh and reopened old wounds that had never been allowed to heal.
He paused and allowed the pain to wash over him in waves, his body begging for him to stop. Then he began again.
'No one cares, your teachers have probably not even noticed your absence, your friends don't want you, your master…' he pressed harder and was rewarded with a tidal wave of pain, as he drew the knife along his skin, 'your master would be happy to be rid of you, happy to be rid of the clumsy, stupid padawan that he only took out of pity.'
The strokes became progressively more violent as his train of thought continued, 'no one would care if you died.' The thought was a new one, never before had he thought of his death, especially at his own hands and as he grasped the knife again in his bloody fingers, one last thought flashed through his mind
'Nobody will cry at your funeral.'
So, what did you think?
Please review
I'd love to hear your feedback
If I get enough positive feedback I might continue writing this, but for now it is a oneshot.