I cannot even breathe by myself; the thought comes, unwanted and unwarranted. I hear the harsh sound of my breathing in the background, an unyielding reminder of who I am. I cannot escape from it. It follows me wherever I go, always.

I close my eyes behind the black mask that is my prison and my shield. The memories flow through my head in an unrelenting stream. I remember times of happiness, when my chest rose and fell with the inflows and outflows of my breaths. I remember the coarse, thick sands of Tatooine, the winds stinging my face as I walked in the light of the setting suns. I remember coming before the Jedi council, the man who I followed blindly comforting me silently from the penetrating glares of Masters wise in the Force. I remember Obi-Wan becoming my new master, until my love for him was absolute, an unquestioned thing.

I remember seeing her for the first time in years, her beauty only having grown. I remember forgetting myself in the beauty of Naboo, drowning my worries in comfort and light. I remember the light streaming forward to paint her in its golden rays, illuminating her perfectly. I remember when we were married; making our vows to love, forever...

I shove the memories violently back into an abandoned corner of my mind, a corner that still recognizes itself as Anakin Skywalker. I open my eyes, seeing the outside world through a hideous reflection that is not real. There is only darkness, I remind myself, staring out into the black oblivion of empty space. It reflects the bleakness of my soul, a bleakness only tempered by anger. The sorrow threatens to envelop me, to capture me until there is no escape. I struggle, trying to find myself in the dark tide. I am grateful for the fact that I am alone, as a strangled hiss escapes my voice synthesizer.

I find a solitary rope in the swirling sea of emotion. My master beckons to me in my mind, telling me to use my anger. I grasp wildly for the rage that sustains me, and find it. It is anger at me, anger at Obi-Wan, anger at my master himself, and anger at everything. I both hate and love my master. He is the only thing that I have left, now. I cannot blame him for Padmè... that lies on my shoulders and mine only. I know that it is only I that is to be blame for her death. I have accepted that now, though it does nothing to assuage the numbness and fury I feel.

I scream in my mind, even now. The physical pain of my procedure was nothing, I realize. The real pain is not tangible. It transcends everything that I have known, opening new borders of self-
revulsion and disgust. She is dead, and the vows that I swore to my mother mean nothing. I have failed.

I think of Obi-Wan. This path of thinking is no safer then the other. I hate him, which is unquestionable. My anger towards him is just as strong as my love was. It was he that left me to burn on the sands. It was he that abandoned me to writhe in hell-fire... in more than one sense. He let me travel down the dark path that led me here. He never really loved me. If he did, he would have saved me from the lava that burned my flesh, and from the forces that now twist my mind.

I know, secretly to myself, that this is unfair and untrue. It was not his fault that Padmè died... it was my own. And some part of me still wants his forgiveness, part of me still wants him to tell me that he loves me, that everything I have done does not matter... but all of me knows that this will never happen, that he condemns me. I allow hate to color my vision until there is nothing left, but burning anger in my black heart.

The door opens abruptly, interrupting me from my thoughts. I turn around, shoving all my emotions deep down. I know that they must not be allowed to surface; my only thoughts must now be of my master's bidding. I am his slave, and his every whim is my command. I gather anger and power about me, taking on the façade of an impenetrable Sith Lord. I wear my aura like a cloak, allowing it to intimidate all that dare cross me.

But within myself, I writhe in silent torment. I cry out with fury and pain until the agony becomes more then I can stand, and I call out for mercy, for release. There is none, and I realize that I am alone, finally.