They took him.
They took him nearly twenty years ago, but it doesn't matter. He still was, and always will be, my brother. The only brother I ever had, for that matter, and he was my twin.
They came, they took him, and they tried to cut our bond. I was barely three. But I remember it. I always will. My mom cried, but I knew that she had let them take him. I was furious at them for taking my best friend from me. When they tried to sever the bond and get rid of my memories of him, I screamed until I had no voice left because it hurt my mind so badly. And when they were gone, I realized that they had failed. The bond was weaker and so were my memories, but they were still there. I would never forget.
I was like him, and they wanted to take me too. I wanted to go when I heard that they were taking my brother, but my mother couldn't bear to lose both of her children and refused. It was the biggest mistake she ever made. I wanted to be a Jedi too, whatever that meant.
I remember the big man being sad when he tried to sever our bond. He kept saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," as I screamed my head off. He was the only one of them that ever cared.
My mother tried to calm me for weeks, but it never worked. After two solid weeks of crying, I clammed up and never spoke again. Some people thought that I was "mentally challenged" as my teachers put it, but I didn't care. Then, on my thirteenth birthday, I felt him again. He didn't feel me, I knew that. They had cut off his feelings from me, and they had probably destroyed his memories. But I could feel him. He was so happy that day, he had been chosen for something wonderful. I was glad for him, but I wished that I could be with him.
The years went by, and I could always feel my brother as though he was still by my side. I had no idea what he looked like, but he was there. I never spoke, and eventually people gave up trying to make me. My mother constantly regretted not letting me go with them all those years ago; for she said that I would have been so much happier.
One day, I was cooking dinner when I felt intense grief coming from him. I collapsed, and my father rushed me to the nearest med center. The doctors said that the only thing wrong with me was rapid heartbeat and that I was perfectly fine. But my brother wasn't. He was grieving so deeply that I couldn't even stand up against it. All I could figure out was that the tall man from so long ago had died, and for long nights I stayed awake, sobbing out a grief that wasn't my own.
When I heard of Anakin Skywalker and Obi-wan Kenobi, I couldn't believe it. My brother, my very own brother, was a hero. I would walk into the classroom and hear friends talking excitedly about my brother and all the wonderful things he had done. They could never understand why I beamed so brightly whenever they mentioned his name. They thought I had a crush on him. They knew so little. Years passed, and he became a legend. I could track his movements through the Holo-Net and watch his face appear on the screen. I finally knew what he looked like.
My parents never spoke of him. Secretly, I knew that they were proud of him, but they thought that I didn't remember, so they kept silent. One day, I vowed, I would meet him. He was my brother, after all.
My father worked as a Red Guard for Chancellor Palpatine, and one day he was sent to a volcanic planet called Mustafar to protect the Chancellor's new ward, someone named Darth Vader. I accompanied him, for I, too, was in training as a Red Guard. We couldn't locate Vader in the base, and I was looking out a viewport, listening to my father, him talking, me always silent, when I saw them. One of them was Vader, no doubt, and he was battling another man, someone I knew only in my dreams. I spoke for the first time since I was three, and it was his name, screamed loud. I let myself open up to him and found that I was right. Obi-wan.
My father shouted at me to stop, but I ran across the burning soil and followed helplessly as my only, dear brother fought a man who wanted nothing more than to kill him. The real horror came when Vader turned and I saw another face only from my dreams and the Holo-Net. "Anakin Skywalker!" I screamed in shock as I watched the galactic hero assault my brother. "No!"
He didn't hear me, and when Obi-wan turned to him while on the ground and he was on the lava, I knew what was going to happen. "It's over, Anakin," he shouted, "I have the high ground now." I gasped as Anakin flipped off the platform and Obi-wan's lightsaber cut through his legs and arm. When Anakin started burning I collapsed and wept heartbrokenly, it was over. When I looked up, Obi-wan was gone, and I fled.
I have never seen my father again, I left Mustafar that day, and my heart hurts every time I hear of Darth Vader. I went to Alderaan and became commissioned to protect the new princess, Leia Organa. Something told me that she was important. But one day, last week, I dared to reach to the figure that was once my brother, and was stunned at what I found. He was alive, on a transport to Alderaan, and in my mind, I heard his voice for the first time since I was three. I have never forgotten you, dear sister, he whispered. I love you. Several moments later, my world lit up, and then there was nothing.