Author's notes: I think one of the things that drove Anakin—a lot of people, in fact—over the edge is that he didn't have a proper outlet for his emotions. This fic delves into that a little.

Everyone hates me. Anakin thought of his mother; how good it would feel to just run to her and cry into her shoulder. As wonderful as the thought was though, he immediately pushed it out of his mind. He could already feel tears pricking his eyes, and it would not do to let everyone see him crying. I'm better than this. Ferus turned the corner. Ferus… Oh, how Anakin wanted to fling himself at Ferus, to wipe that goody-goody look off of his face, to make him sorry for what he had done. But Anakin blocked this thought out of his mind, too. He wasn't far enough gone to not care about the consequences if he did cede to his desires. Anakin sped up his step. Just to my quarters, just gotta make it to my quarters, just my quarters, just my quarters, just my quarters, just my quarters… the back of Anakin's mind called it to his attention that he was saying those three words over and over again. So Anakin continued them. Monotony, endless monotony, stupid, boring, senseless, comforting monotony was the only thing that could bring him to his quarters. Somehow, that was a deep conviction in the small part of Anakin's mind that he left open to the outside world; the rest of his mind was filled with just my quarters. He started to relax enough to think of the meaning, the implication of these three words: being able to cry, to let it all out, to be done with it, to let his hurt, his anger, his confusion, to let it all out, to be done with it. NO! He could not think these thoughts here; the thought of how wonderful it would be filled his chest with a sob. So he blocked out the meaning, but said the words. Just my quarters, just my quarters, just my quarters… And all of a sudden, he was there. His quarters. Here, here he could cry, be done with it, let all his grief, anger, hurt, and those little things that he had kept pent up inside him until he was able to deal with them. Here. Anakin opened the door, and was just about to go in and throw himself upon his bed when…

"Anakin." Anakin turned and saw his Master, Obi-Wan.

"Anakin, do you have a moment? I need to talk with y-"

Anakin had just the presence of mind left to say politely, "Not now Master. If you'll excuse me…" and shut the door softly, not slamming it.

Anakin ran to his bed, prepared to finally, finally just let it all out... to cry for five minutes straight, to be done with it, to feel like a new boy once he got himself off his bed and washed his face.

But fifteen seconds, five real sobs and three forced sobs later, Anakin realized the unbearable urge to sob, the one that everyone (except trained actors) needs to cry, was gone. Try as he might, he couldn't cry. He couldn't let it all out. He couldn't be done with it. He had to carry it around with him longer now, because he could not cry.

He wanted to; oh, how he wanted to! But he could not. No rest for the weary. No cleansing, cooling tears on his flushed cheeks. Like always. Anakin tried once more to cry, but only managed a few tears before he gave it up.

He smiled, a bitter, twisted smile, and laughed a quiet, bitter laugh. Oh, the irony! When I can't cry, I have to; when I have to cry, I can't. I love how poetically I put that. Anakin went to wash his face of the tears that hadn't yet fallen…and most likely wouldn't for a long time. One of these days, I'm going to break. …Ha! That's a pleasant thought.

…

The red faded from Anakin's eyes. A cool night breeze caressed the flushed cheeks where tears refused to fall. He looked with a mixture of horror and frightening satisfaction at the carnage before him. The fact that it satisfied him terrified him more than the fact that he had done it. …I broke.

Author's notes: Thanks for reading, and please review!