A/N written for the forum The Lightsaber *wow two fics in one month this is amazing* Trigger warning for self-harm/check bottom a/n for spoiler t/w
The anger courses through my veins as the lightsaber swings down, the lightsaber that crackles and burns a fiery red, the lightsaber that is nothing like Luke's, like my own. The smell of burning flesh fills the air, the motions of my arm pushing up my sleeves like a breeze, revealing the scars, the burns, that I let no one see, the ones I caused when my parents reminded me how little they care, when a birthday passed with no mention, when my endless letter went unanswered, and the only way to release the internal pain is to feel it, physically, to punish myself for not being worthy of being their son, for not being good enough to make them care. In my room, where no one dared bother me, with the sounds they hear at night haunting them in the day, the sounds of me screaming in my nightmares, the ones the voice gives to release me from the naive image of the Jedi, I would force my lightsaber into my skin, cutting deep into the muscle and cauterizing, over and over until the blood stained my sheets, but no one ever noticed. And that just made me do it more, and soon my sheets forgot they were ever anything but a grotesque mix of red and brown. And now, people fall around me, and at last they know how I have felt, the things they told me to ignore, to dismiss, to let go of, I project into their minds now, and the last expression on their faces is one of utter despair, feeling what I have lived with. And now, I feel as if I am bleeding out as my peers, my.. friends.. die at my hand, and the few that don't are the ones slaughtering the rest. And so the temple burns around us, and ashes rain down like snow.
The youngest Padawan is crying, I can hear it, until I can't, and one of the ones who turned with me is kneeling before me, fresh blood on her hands, her face and hair stained with the multicolored blood of so many different species, dead at her hands, and her clothing looks clean until you realize it's only because the black masks the stains. Our new master comes to claim his victory, over the temple, and over us, and we are too far gone to refuse his offers. He may be cruel, he may be ruthless, he may not hesitate to kill one of us if we disobey. But he knows what is inside us, better than we do, and he at least makes a semblance of an effort to help; better than what Luke ever did.
It was years later when I realized that I had gone from one bad to another, out of the Rancor and into the Sarlacc pit. It was years later when I realized the damage being with Snoke had done to my mind, and yet, I could not escape the horrors I had done because of him, and I could not stop living the way he had me living; not living, just killing. It was years later when I realized that I couldn't be free on my own, I would never be reformed, I would always be a monster. It was year later, that I was finally, truly free.
My mother hears about it from Rey, who knew because her connection to me abruptly cut off and left her in a comatose state for days. But the details were from the Holonet; how they found me with my lightsaber in my hand, a gaping hole through my chest and the scars on my arms exposed for the world to see.
A/N spoiler t/w suicide
And sorry, this stuff has just been on my mind a lot recently and up until the 'years later' paragraph is my headcanon (yes my headcanon for my favorite character is super depressing, oh well)
