Dear Ani

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or any of the Star Wars characters. They are owned by George Lucas. I do, however, own the fic all of this is in. That is all.

Dear Ani,

I know that's not you anymore. Anakin Skywalker. MY Ani. It died when you became what you are now. The monster that is causing all this chaos. I can not believe that boy I met on Tatooine all those years ago would do such a thing to a universe that he so badly wanted to see and protect. How could you do such a thing, Ani? Why?

Remember what you asked me when we first met? Do you? You wanted to know if I was an angel. I can't even believe I remember it myself so why should I expect you to? All you would remember is the pain that people caused you in your life and I am left wondering what kind of pain we caused. All we did was try to help you but you pushed it away so that you could try to fix things yourself. You knew, we all knew, that you couldn't fix everything on your own no matter how hard you tried. I guess you have always been that way, my only love.

I also remember how you didn't care how much trouble you got in if they found out about our love. You would've done anything to keep me with you, even give up the dream you so longed for. What happened to that? The kisses go shorter, the hugs more farther apart, and the love that we made became non-existent. Eventually, what we had disappeared in a fit of rage.

After your transformation, everything changed. I don't know what had happened or why it did. I just know that all was left was a shell of a my life that I once had. Everything around me was coming down and there wasn't anything I could do about it. Where were you when I needed a shoulder to cry on? Where were you when I needed someone to hold me? Where were you during the hardest times? I'll tell you where you were. You were helping to destroy that life we had created, bit by bit. You were killing people that didn't deserve to die. You were becoming just becoming what you so hated most.

Ani, I am not asking for your pity, if you have any left, nor for you to feel sorry for me. I just want to know if there is still a piece of that innocent boy still alive in that cold, dead body. Anywhere at all. At least then I can die knowing that there is still some good left in you.

Forever,

Amidala