Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Star Wars Rebels, nor any characters, place names or content that appears in this story. This story is a fan fiction and does not neccisarily comply with the canon Star Wars timeline. Rated T for blood, violence and content that may disturb.
A Long Time Ago, In A Galaxy Far Far Away…
The young boy smashed himself against the cold stone wall.
Turning, he grabbed the metal bars on his window; the only things standing between him and…
Freedom.
Freedom to roam where he pleased, to do what he liked…
To kill whomever he chose.
Alas, however the metal remained cold and unmoving in his hands, and he soon turned his attention to the untouched food tray next to his bed…
He sent the plate flying with his first kick. The sloppy mush on it splattered all over the room. Grabbing the tray in both hands, he smashed it again and again against the cold metal door of his cell, screaming in rage, finding no satisfaction in these wanton acts of destruction; he only hated more…
His screams intensified, not high-pitched like the rest of the boys his age, just low and gritty.
Want to leave… Want to kill…
He ran his hands through his long blue hair, and began, in desperation, began to frantically tear his hair out; but finding no relief from the pain, no reprieve…
It only hurt more.
His vision had gone from being locked in a dark cell for years, but he could hear, or maybe sense, that the small sliding panel on his door had opened.
Good… Good…
Outside, the Stormtrooper on guard opened the panel, aware that he had begun to hurt himself, and braced the stun device…
It was to be his last mistake.
The second he opened the hatch, a hand lashed out and grabbed the man by his throat. The trooper gasped and dropped the stunner, grabbing at the hand in an attempt to free himself; but it was a futile attempt as the hand was like a metal vice. Slowly his breathing became shallower…
This was the only thing the prisoner found any reprieve in nowadays. And so, as the man began to go slack in his arms, he twisted his fingers, and felt some satisfaction as the man went limp in his arms. He dropped the body.
More would come, he told himself. More would come. He would be brutalised. Beaten, stunned, probably given another round on The Experiment.
He looked forward to the pain.