A Fire Inside Pt. IV

Make a Wish and Bleed

With a deep swallow and a heavy sigh, Anakin extinguished the throbbing blade in his hand. Its red glow held no blood, though its color mocked its own self-cleansing. For a moment, he almost longed to see the blood of the slain on the blade, a reminder of his own impurity. But the blood of the innocent did not cling to the beam of energy. Totally unaware of the danger of staying in one place, he took a moment to contemplate this. In searching for purity, he had bathed himself in the blood of the blameless, only to be left swathed in its filth But this blade, this tool of destruction, mocked his inner battle. It was created only to shed blood and it was able to escape its rank signs. Anakin could not be the saber nor could he wallow in blood. With a cry, he dropped the hilt to the floor, its smooth metal casing clattering against the blood-splashed marble. Trembling, he backed away from it as if it were a poisonous reptile waiting to strike. In so doing, though, his foot came in contact with something on the floor. He turned, his frame twitching in time with the unsteady beating of his heart.

The body he'd touched with his foot lay in a silent, tiny heap on the floor. The childish hands were stretched towards him, a quiet plea for mercy in its unseeing eyes. Still wet tear tracks stained the full cheeks. Tears on the face of a child; blood on the face of a child. Blood he'd shed.

Breathing heavily, willing himself not to be sick, he backed away from the corpse only to encounter another. Their frail, massacred bodies littered the floor. Young blood not meant to be spilled for a long time drenched the floor, its crimson marks another sign as to his impurity.

"I can never be clean!!!!!" he screamed, falling to his knees outside the door, his head in his hands.

For an eternity, he knelt there, rocking back and forth to the melody of his inner demons, his head a heavy burden in his hands. But, the sound of booted feet rushing toward him snapped him from his torment. He jumped to his feet and called his saber to his hand before turning to run in the direction of the sound. Three approached him, their sabers a flash of color, clean, pure color. One was Bultar Swan, the others he did not know. Feeling nothing, caring nothing, he ran into their attacks. A heavy barrage of swinging attacks and thrusts parted their line, which he quickly stepped inside. Tossing his saber into this right hand, he raised the left to call down the heavy ornamental statue behind him. Its minimal style still afforded plenty of weight as it fell toward him. Turning back one final thrust of one of the unknown Jedi, he leapt aside, allowing the statue to crush his attacker. He then turned to the remaining two. Master Swan swung her blade inside his attack but was forced to jump back again as he reversed grips and aimed to sever her legs at mid-thigh. Her friend attacked then, but her attacks were clumsy at best and Anakin swiftly dispatched her.

Turning to face the lone Jedi he'd once known, he forced an ugly, menacing leer to his face as she spoke;

"Anakin, put down your lightsaber. We can help you find the Light. Please, Anakin. Please," she pleaded, her face full of an emotion similar to a mother's concern.

For a moment, he was almost swayed. His lightsaber dipped in the air, dropping from the attack neutral stance he'd been maintaining. His angry expression dropped from his face as he contemplated her words. "We can help you," she'd said. Did he want help? He stared at his hands, caked with blood. Do I want to be cleansed? he asked himself, silently. He tore his gaze from his hands and looked into Master Swan's face, still shining with motherly concern. This was all it took for him to realize himself. Where were the Jedi when my mother was killed?! Where were they when Padme was lost to me?

"No!!!" he screamed, "you can not save me!!! I traveled that path a long time ago, and it led to the loss of everything I had ever loved!! I am nothing now. I will not be saved." It was easy now to put a hateful expression on his face. "You can not even save yourself. Pitiful Jedi. I will destroy you all!!" he rasped, his voice a deadly hiss.

With enjoyment he watched her eyes dip to stare at the stains on his hands, thoughts of her lost friends evident in her countenance.

"Oh, this blood does not belong to anyone you know, Swan. Just some worthless little children who could not even fight me," he said, laughing, but even to his own ears, the mirth sounded strained. No matter how much he hated the Jedi, those were still just children.

A strangled cry issued from her lips in what sounded like "The children!". In this moment of indecision and horror, he rushed forward and hacked her body in two. Now, though, he could find no pleasure in the death of the hateful Jedi. Even in her death, he saw a child fall under the unquenchable force of his rage.

Oh Padme, he thought, I need you now. I will never be cleansed.

I realize that lightsabers cauterize a wound, but I needed blood imagery. Just use your imaginations