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Disclaimer: The characters from Star Wars belong to their respective
owner George Lucas and LucasFilms and no infringement is intended with
this story. This is only a spin-off of sorts that is meant for
entertainment purposes only and if you want to sue me you won't get far. I
am a poor, poor college student. That is self explainitory. Beneath The Masks We Wear We found him when I was very young. My mother told me that I was five when Odysseus brought him to us. I remember looking at him from between the rails of the great staircase in our main hall and thinking what a scamp he appeared to be. At the time, of course I was filled with complete contempt. How dare he walk into my father's house with common dirt upon his shoes! I was absolutely sure that father would turn the boy away, but to my surprise, my father nodded solemnly to whatever Odysseus had to say and with that the boy became part of the family. Well, sort of. He didn't actually become anything near a friend to me until much later in this story. Actually I avoided the boy like the plague for weeks. My mother had informed me that his name was Boba, he was eight years old, and I was to treat him nicely because his father had "served honorably". In my innocence, I held that in an uncertain awe because mother often reminded me how loyal my father was to his supreme. If only I had known then what I know now… Let it be known that I didn't really know my father much. Mother talked about him all the time, but rarely did he see fit to visit us. As a child, I was completely oblivious to it all and time seemed to pass so quickly for me between his visits. I didn't even notice the oddness of his appearance every day after the boy was left with us. Not until it was too late…much too late. I started having nightmares at night that would shake the foundation of my innocence. Each night I awoke to a shrill scream that scared me beyond belief. That pesky closet monster… he must have come with the boy. Obviously it was because I had never heard such screaming before. Tearfully blaming the boy and muttering all the delicate babble I knew, I would go back to sleep. Unfortunately the dreams started reoccurring in the light of day. At odd times, I would hear things being thrown and shouts from distant rooms in the house. Coincidentally I started seeing less and less of my mother or father. My world was turned completely upside down. I spent a lot of my time in my secret hiding place in the gardens. Towards the back, behind the grand aqua pools there was a small grove of trees that made up the back of my father's garden. In the very right corner there was a very tall elm tree that seemed to be graced with millions of branches. It was the absolute perfect place to hide when things got tough. It was only three years later that, after hearing those screams again that I routinely fled to my place and was absolutely galled to see that bastard (I had learned that word quietly from the kids around town. I scarcely knew what it meant- mainly that it was an insult to a boy) in my tree! With a quick wipe of the tears from my eyes, I indignantly shouted up to him to get away from my tree. With a slow glance towards the house, almost as if to watch for something, he jumped down from the tree and moved to help me up. Oh boy, did that confuse me. I was at the point where I wasn't sure if I still hated him or not because father had insisted on cleaning him up years ago and he was starting to grow quite taller than me. With resignation I noted that he was becoming more grown up every day in his expressions. Needless to say, it was rather difficult to get into my special tree so I accepted his help curtly. It was so for several more years as I grew closer to him and gradually accepted him as somewhat like a brother. Though I still held him at a distance during the day, making sure not to be seen socializing with him, I started to rely on him at night. I had finally convinced myself that the screams were not his doing and as they grew worse, one night I found myself running to his room for solace. I tip toed down the hall to his room and I was so afraid to that I would stir the shouting and screaming that I dared not knock. So I just slipped in. Once inside two almost glowing eyes that were watching me from across the room met me. As my eyes adjusted to the dark of his room, I could see him clutching his bed covers tightly around himself with a deep scowl on his boyish face. Without waiting for him to talk, I horridly explained in a soft whisper. "It's the screams, Boba…they scare me. Can I stay in here with you? You don't seem to be scared. Can I stay just until they pass?" I whispered the questions so quickly that I was frightened to think that he may not have made out what I said. I was so thankful when he simply let loose his tight hold on the covers and pulled them to the side. Like a the small child that I was, I ran as fast as I could and hopped in beside him, quickly curling into a ball and keeping myself turned away from him as if he was not even there. But he was and I knew it. It was all I needed to fall back asleep. I was out so quick I never even felt him cover me up and give me a brief hug before he turned over onto his back and threw a long boyish arm over his eyes. It was the summer of my twelfth year that I found myself disturbed by the screams again. It was in the middle of the day and it was remarkably a lot like the day that he and I became friends, if you could call it that, of course. As what had become our ritual, Boba was sitting underneath my tree when I arrived. Dutifully he leaned over and clasped his hands together to help me into the tree to hide. As I stepped onto his clasped hands and he raised me up into the tree, he whispered, "Stay here." I was a little confused. These were the first words he'd said to me since he had come to stay with us. In the six years that I had lived under the same roof as he, I had finally assumed that he was mute. At my current age, my wits were just starting to quicken so I quickly retaliated. "No." was my immediate reply. Whether or not I intended to stay was beside the point. Suddenly his face turned incredibly solemn and he sighed wearily. "Please stay here until I come back, Lily. It is really important. Promise me." He insisted in a deeply mature voice that I found myself responding to. I was captivated by the urgency in his voice and finally consented with a nod. "Okay…" I responded hesitantly. "But you will come back, right?" Suddenly I was so afraid to be alone. All the screams from the last few years were coming back and the hairs on the back of my neck was standing on end. Up until then I had blocked the resemblance of the screams to my mother's soft voice, but in that moment I was so afraid that I could scarcely move if I'd wanted to. "Of course I will, just be quiet and stay hidden." He reassured rather unsteadily as he backed away from the tree and towards the house. I was forced to change my opinions of him in that moment. For all my twelve years, I had never trusted anyone as much as I trusted him at that moment. Yes, he came back and ushered me back into the house and things continued on as normal…almost. For a few days following the incident, I searched for my father and finally I found him in the training room with Boba. What I saw before me was somewhat grueling and it took everything I had not to cry for them to stop. Instead of training, it seemed more to me like a never-ending beating of the boy. Every twist and dodge that he scored over my father, my father came back and punched him mercilessly with his fist. Finally it was my sniffling that stopped the two. First Boba stopped and looked in my direction and just as he was about to walk towards me, my father slammed his staff into his stomach, causing him to double over and gasp for breath. Then calmly, my father looked in my direction and I was shocked to see the coldness in his eyes. Where was my father? Since when had he looked like this? Scared witless, I barely managed to stutter out my question before he barked at me to tell him what the hell I wanted. "What?" He roared savagely, but thankfully not moving from where he stood. Boba, however, snapped his head up to look at me with fearful eyes. "What, " her father repeated, "did you say?" "Where…" I mumbled frightfully. "Where is mother? I have not seen her for days, she hasn't been at our meals, and." I trailed off as he started stalking towards me. I didn't know what was so wrong with my question at the time, but my instincts immediately reacted with the look on his face and the gait of his stride. I did the only thing I knew to do. I fled. But not far before I tripped over a discarded staff and knocked my head on the floor. With a gasp, I started gasping hysterically in fear and pain as I tried crawling towards the door. I felt the air behind me move swiftly as my father tried to swipe me with his staff. Confused with the fact that he had missed, I made the mistake of glancing back. To my dismay, Boba had pushed my father and was now the center of his attention. Without a staff or weapon, the fifteen year old was hardly a match for my father. Brokenly I knew my father would never stop beating him. Frozen in my place with fear, I was abruptly awoken when Boba looked up from his place on the floor- the blood running down his nose and his already swollen eyes turning even darker shades of black- and mouthed, "Go hide." My guilt has eaten at me since then, but I ran and hid in my tree. I stayed there and hid for hours, days, and suddenly a full week had passed. I was aching and starving, but terrified to go back into that house. Only the large branches of the tree kept my exhausted body off the ground where I could be seen. After the fourth day I think I drifted in and out of consciousness. After the 5th day, I started genuinely wondering if he would ever come out to get me. What if he was gone like my mother? I was still at odds with myself on whether she was dead or simply gone. Perhaps I just didn't want to see the truth still. Nonetheless on the seventh day I awoke in my bed to a nurse attending me. I quietly asked her what happened after I left and she just shook her head and refused to comment. After I ate, I slid off the bed onto wobbly feet and stumbled to Boba's room. It was empty. |
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