Hello! This story has been in the works for a couple of months and I'm excited to share it with you all!
This story is going to be a bit more serious than others I've written and has a trigger warning for eating disorders; if this makes you uncomfortable, consider yourself warned.
And on that same note: I've never written about eating disorders before. I've done some research on them, but can't claim to know everything about them. I've done my best to make it accurate, but if I've gotten something wrong, please tell me!
I do hope you enjoy my story and feedback is always appreciated!
My vocabulary isn't sufficient enough to properly describe how I feel about flying.
(I'll try anyway)
It's a sensation that you can feel deep in your bones; you feel like it is your destiny, it is your place in the universe, it is fate.
It's something that calls to mind the idea of the cockpit of your ship melting away into nothingness, leaving you to soar through the clouds (or stars, if you're in space) with no obstructions; you are one with the sky.
It's something that is as close to freedom as most people in the Empire are going to get. When you're up in the air, you can close your eyes, listen to the wind rushing past, and imagine that you are a bird.
That, I believe, is the ultimate symbol of freedom. Not the designs and symbols the Empire loves to stick on everything, but a normal bird. They come and go as they please, they answer to nobody but themselves, and they sure as hell don't have to deal with oppressive instructors or whether that super cute blonde guy over there likes them back...
Oh wait, I haven't introduced myself, have I? Sorry about that. Um, well, my name is Luce Mildar, and I'm from the planet Carida. I'm nineteen years old and I'm a first-year student at Skystrike Flight Academy. I'm a weirdo loner with no friends but that's no big deal because I wouldn't want to be friends with me either.
Sometimes I wonder why I'm even here. Well, I know why I'm here - I was among the top flight students on Carida so they sent me here - but what I mean is, why has my life turned out this way? Why did I have to be great enough to come here, and not the others back home?
Why am I the one succeeding?
Or, should I say, why was I the one succeeding?
I say that because ever since coming here, my performance has slipped considerably. I went from being the top of the class on Carida to hovering around halfway there at Skystrike.
I could say it's because the work on Carida was easier, which is true.
I could say that I'm just homesick, which is also true.
I could say that I've found myself captivated by this very nice boy in my class, which is, again, true.
But it's not the whole truth.
Erie Marsell is by far the most beautiful girl at Skystrike.
Short blonde curls framing a flawless face, sparkling green eyes, tall and busty; she's every man and woman's dream. She knows she looks good. She won't let us forget it, either.
She's everything I'm not.
It sucks. It really sucks.
I look at her and see an aspiration.
I look at myself and see a stupid lump of misery. No wonder no one wants me.
I stand at one of the sinks in the bathroom and watch her apply a coating of lip gloss. She's focused on her reflection, her hand moving expertly and carefully. Technically, we're not supposed to have "frivolous" things like lip gloss at the Academy, but she smuggled it in by hiding it in her bra. Can't afford to have dry lips, I guess.
I look at my own reflection. I hate the way my face looks, all sick and wrong and shadowy. I'm not blaming the lighting in here; my face looks shadowy no matter where I go.
And it's not just my face that's terrible: my body is just plain horrid. I don't like how weird and fat and lumpy it is. I don't fit clothes as well as the other girls; even the supposedly "tight-fitting" shirt hangs off me and makes me look like a kid playing dress-up. I've had to poke an extra hole in my belt just so my pants won't fall down again.
To be stuck in a body you hate is worse than death itself.
His name is Derek Klivian, but everyone calls him Hobbie. He's from Ralltiir, a planet I can't claim to know much about. He's got blonde hair and the most gorgeous face.
Mmmmm...
Um, oh yeah, he's also really nice. He's pretty serious-looking most of the time, but I've seen the way he laughs with his friends when the instructors aren't looking. Rake and Wedge, they're pretty nice too, but it's Hobbie I've got my eyes on.
I don't know, there's just something about him that makes time slow down whenever he passes by. Once we stood next to each other in line for the simulator pods and my heart was beating double time. I thought for sure it was going to overwork itself and stop altogether.
Oh, who am I kidding?
I doubt he even knows my name. He doesn't care about me. If I disappeared tomorrow he wouldn't notice. I'm silly to wonder if he likes me back.
(I so hope he likes me back)
Speaking of crushes, I'm not the only one who has one.
Leera, the girl whose bunk is above mine, likes Hobbie's friend Rake. Apparently he comforted her when she was feeling homesick once and she's been into him ever since.
It's not hard to see why. Rake is a very kind and sweet-natured person. Always smiling, always saying hello to everyone he passes in the hallways. Even me.
Lee's fallen for him hard.
I've seen the way she gazes at him longingly from halfway across the cafeteria during mealtimes. I've seen the way she blushes whenever his name is mentioned.
I guess it's cute, kinda.
I've also heard that one of the older cadets has a crush on Erie, and that a third-year student has the hots for her instructor.
But then again, I've also heard a rumour that Erie may or may not have fucked her brother Eade, and that Eade has a micropenis, so I think I'll just take all the gossip I hear with a grain of salt.
Crushes feel so out of place here, anyway.
At times, the atmosphere feels similar to my old high school back on Carida. At least, as far as the people are concerned.
The students/cadets have all congregated into their little groups. They all try to sneak around behind the teachers/instructors backs. They still tell dirty and wildly inappropriate jokes.
They even have the same personalities. You have the studious ones, the smartasses, the gossipy girls, the jocks, the clowns, and those who just want to chill out and have some fun.
I'm nothing. That's my role. I'm the one people tend to forget about, unless there's some awful rumour about me going around.
Luckily, there's not, at the moment. I can't say the same for Eade and Erie.
I hate the simulators.
They try so hard to be real, which I know is the point, but I can't help feeling betrayed and lied to. Like they have no right to be realistic.
Nothing about them is real. Not the ships, not the stars, not the battles. They don't give you the same thrill as flying for real. They don't make you feel alive and free.
On the contrary, they make you feel trapped. You have to kill in order to move up within the Empire. They expect you to. It doesn't matter if the enemy is unarmed; if you refuse or hesitate, you'll be "killed." It makes me sick.
The simulators are soulless creations.
I also fainted in one once.
I was feeling dizzy and empty and all kinds of wrong, more so than usual. Being in one of the pods in the middle of a highly stressful training excercise didn't help. I couldn't concentrate.
One second, I was staring, frozen, at those horrible fake stars; the next, I was suddenly lying on the cold hard floor outside my pod. Goran, Skerris, the two junior instructors and the guy I was training with, Roran, were all looking down at me. My head was painful and fuzzy, and their faces seemed miles away.
"Are you alright?" a voice asked. It sounded kind of distorted and my ears throbbed.
"Uh?" I remember groaning.
"Mildar?" The voice grew clearer. It was Goran. "Are you alright?"
I blinked up at him. His face at least held some trace of concern. The other faces around me, not so much. Skerris looked displeased, Roran was glaring. The helmets of the junior instructors were blank and impassive.
I realised that they were all waiting for a response, but I didn't know what to say. If I said I was just stressed, I'd be seen as weak and incapable. But if I tell them the whole truth...what would they think? What would they do to me? But I couldn't just say nothing!
They waited.
I didn't know what was wrong with me. Why couldn't I just answer them? Why wouldn't I talk?
I withered under their gazes and started crying. I'd never felt so stuck, so unsure of what I should have been doing. Their stares just made me feel so much worse.
Goran raised his eyebrows but didn't lose the little bit of sympathy in his eyes. He turned around to face one of the junior instructors, the female one, and told her to escort me to the medbay.
The instructor, Solaris, held me by my arm and shoulder to steady me because I kept swaying on my feet. She walked me briskly down the hallways. Everyone we passed stared at us as we went. I hung my head in shame, but not for too long because I bumped into someone, since I couldn't see where I was going.
The person muttered a quick apology and continued on his way. Two female cadets standing nearby giggled. Solaris shook her head.
We ended up having to wait to see the doctor because he was already busy. For some reason I began crying again.
Solaris sat down next to me in the tiny waiting area and tutted at my tears.
"Oh, for goodness sake," she said, folding her arms. "You're not a child, enough with the waterworks! Stop feeling sorry for yourself, and pull yourself together!"
There was a tiny part of me that was deeply wounded by her words, even though I knew she was right. I forced the sobs back down my throat, though I couldn't stop the now-silent stream of tears.
The doctor saw me after a few more minutes. He told me to just drink some water, go back to my bunk and lie down, and he would have me excused from training for the rest of the day. The conversation barely lasted a minute and he was very brief and impatient. Apparently he was incredibly busy trying to organise the monthly check-up for the third-years and didn't have time for my trivial problems.
Solaris didn't have time for me, either. She took me to the female barracks and, as soon as I was in my bunk, she was gone.
That's all I am to people. A waste of time.
There is one thing I do kind of like about my appearance a tiny bit: my hair.
It's a dark-red colour and it's fairly long. No one else has hair like it. I'm the only redhead, and all the other girls keep their hair short. I like to keep it in a braid wrapped around the back of my head, at the nape of my neck.
It almost makes me feel pretty. Even if only for a millisecond.
I wish I could say the same for the rest of my body. No matter what I do, no matter what I eat, I still have the same gross, unhealthy and dumpy body I've had for most of my teen years.
I hide it from everyone, even myself, yet the morbidly curious part of me can't resist having just one more peek. Like I'm a bystander gawking at a crime scene, wondering what went so horribly wrong.
One of the boys fell asleep during our morning schedule overview today. He was standing up, if you can believe it. It was oddly impressive. I secretly envied his ability to sleep so easily.
Goran stopped talking when he realised someone was snoring, and his face went from firm and business-like to...oddly offended. He prowled along the line of cadets, searching for the source of the noise, until someone pointed towards the boy standing directly across from me.
Goran stood in front of him and shook him by the shoulders. The boy's snoring came to an abrupt halt and he let out a groggy "huh?"
"Am I boring you, Nash?" Goran asked, vaguely threatening.
"Uh, no?" Nash's sleep-addled brain evidently hadn't yet grasped the seriousness of the situation.
Goran sent him away to Skerris's office to carry out an unspecified punishment, then proceeded to continue on with the morning as usual.
At lunch, Nash still hadn't shown up and we were speculating about what had happened to him. It was a hushed conversation, so the instructors wouldn't hear us and decide to punish someone else. Goran still had an insulted look in his eye.
"I bet he has to clean the refreshers," Erie whispered.
"With his toothbrush." Cassy, her best friend, added.
"Surely they wouldn't make him use his toothbrush," Leera said, absentmindedly watching Rake sitting at another table. "And I doubt they'd make him clean the refreshers at all. He probably just has to help Skerris sort out paperwork or something."
A boy at our table shivered at the mere mention of Skerris. "That's even worse."
Nash didn't show up for afternoon training, but he was back at dinnertime. His eyes were wide and jumpy with huge bags under them, and he was on edge. He never said a word about what happened, only that we really, really, shouldn't get on the instructors' bad sides.
I obliged. If that happened because he fell asleep, then I can't imagine what would happen to someone who actively disobeyed them. Or tried to defect.
The barracks are cold at night. Even when I wrap myself up tight in my blanket and curl into a ball, I can still feel the creeping chill of the night air settling over everything.
Getting up to use the refresher in the latest hours always gives me a weird, ethereal sort of feeling. When I stand up, I'm surrounded by the sleeping bodies of everyone else lost in their individual dreamlands. The barracks are completely dark, save for the glow coming from the doorway of the refresher at the end of the room. The refreshers themselves are quite dark as well, but the space where the walls meet the floor is pocketed with soft, white square-shaped lights. Enough to see where I'm going without being blinding.
And yet, there are still large shadows everywhere I look. On the walls, in the stalls, even in the lines of my face as I peer into the mirror. I am transformed into a being of the night. The added chill of the air gives me a strange sensation, the sensation that something is coming, something big is going to happen, and it will happen soon.
I don't like it.
It scares me. Everything combined - the light, the coldness, the silence - speaks to me in a way I am powerless to explain. But it's the unknowing, whether or not something will happen - or what it even is - that scares me most of all.
It's like a nightmare, except it's not a nightmare because it's real, but with the same creepy lucidity of actual nightmares.
It scares me...
Food is so confusing and weird. It's meant to nourish you, but after I eat I have to throw up. There are some foods that are supposed to be healthy for you, but there are so many hidden ingredients you'd normally think twice about eating.
It makes me sick to even look at all this food. Who knows how much fat or sugar or artificial ingredients this stew has? What about the sandwiches from yesterday's lunch? Or the soup, or the pie?
The trick is to only eat some of it. The one thing that everyone tells you about weight-loss is to eat less fattening foods.
So I've been trying to eat less fattening foods.
(I'm so hungry)
I feel horrible after I eat. I have to eat enough so that people don't get suspicious but it makes my stomach churn and I have to go to the refresher and expel its contents. Then I rinse the stomach acid out of my mouth with water from the tap and look at myself in the mirror and silently curse the ugly, fat and weak girl I see there.
It's not fair. Erie and Leera and Cassy and the others eat lots and lots and lots and they look and feel just fine afterwards. Why does it have to be this way? Why can't I just be normal and beautiful, like the others?
We received some new cadets a couple days ago.
There were ten in total - five boys and five girls. One of the boys is just as mean and rude as Eade and Roran, one of the girls rivals Erie's good looks, another boy is literally the biggest suck-up I've ever seen and another girl is giving off some pretty unsettling vibes. She creeps me out.
My favorite of the newbies is Ria Talla. She's really nice. Nicer than most others. I think she's sensing that something is wrong with me, because I often catch her watching me. Like during mealtimes, for example, when I finish and get up to leave, she's always eyeing my plate with her eyebrows raised. She hasn't said anything to me yet but I think she's catching on...
Well, to be fair, she stares at everyone. She has a very studious look on her face, like she's trying to work out the answer to a big problem. It's like we all have a chance of being the right one, and she has to examine us closely to determine who, exactly, will solve it.
She doesn't sleep at night, either. I know this because I don't sleep very well myself. I'd turn over onto my side and I'd see her in the bunk across from me, wrapped up in her blanket, her dark eyes gleaming in the dull light. We'd make eye contact with each other and it was like a secret message was being passed between us, like we had some mutual acknowledgement of something that I can't quite put my finger on. It would last for several unblinking seconds before one of us would turn away.
I've caught myself wondering a few times about what exactly is going on inside her head. I hope it's nothing too horrible.
I don't know what I'm doing with my life.
Joining the Empire was a ridiculous decision. The only thing I wanted to do in life was fly and I thought that the best way to go about achieving that goal was to attend the Imperial Academy.
Stupid Luce, stupid!
I should have just stayed in my boring old home town, in my little house with Ma and Da and the vegetable garden and fresh mountain air. I shouldn't have wanted to leave. I shouldn't have made any of the decisions that have led to me being here.
It's ironic. I left my home town because it was small and filled with nothing and I felt like I was facing a dead-end. Here though, I have the chance to see worlds outside my own and fly for a living, but if those above you get even the slightest whiff of suspicion, you can kiss your supposed freedom goodbye.
Not to mention the fact that weak-willed cadets who fail their classes (aka me) don't get very far. I've now gone from having middling results to being among the worst ones. Flying was my sole motivation once upon a time, but that is rapidly draining from me. I don't want to be here anymore, but I can't wash out. I'll be seen as even more of a disappointment and a failure.
It's all I can do to force myself into the cockpit and pull the trigger on the "enemy".
I've made some pretty horrible decisions.
I've never yearned to be back in my tiny house more than I do now. I think of Ma sitting on the old bench in the garden with her morning caf, watching the sky light up. I think of Da reclining by the heater on cold nights, curled up on his favorite sofa and browsing the Holonet. I think of the way they watched me as I boarded the transport that would take me to the Imperial Academy, with something akin to worry stamped on their usually relaxed faces.
Why wouldn't they be worried?
After all, I'm just some dumb-hillbilly-mountain-dweller going off to work for the biggest power in the galaxy. No big deal.
(I want to hit myself for all this)
Every day after training, we have an hour for recreation. That may sound good, but the catch is, there's literally nothing to do except squeeze in some more training (probably the intent behind this, while making it seem like we have more freedom than we actually do) or loiter around and chat with the other cadets. Neither of which really appeal to me, so I just stand in the hallway and listen in on other's conversations.
Today is no exception. I look at the floor while the quiet and subdued voices fill my ears. To my left, Ria is making awkward small talk with another girl, and to my right Rake is telling Wedge and Hobbie a funny story about the time his little brother got stuck on the roof of their house...
...I don't feel too good...
I'm suddenly finding it very hard to concentrate on the monochrome floor, or anything at all. The voices are blurring into an uncomfortably loud noise. My brain feels fuzzy and my thoughts are sluggish. I'm feeling faint and hollow...oh so hollow...
My stomach lets out a loud rumble that reminds me just how empty it is. I can feel my knees beginning to give way. I hear myself groan pitifully as I suddenly begin to sway and fall, but right before I lose myself I feel someone's arms supporting my back and sides.
...
When I open my eyes, the first thing I see is someone's face hovering over mine. It takes me a second to realise that it's Hobbie, and his gorgeous blue eyes are filled with concern.
I find that I'm lying on the floor, and he's kneeling, with my head propped up in his lap. I can feel my pulse quicken.
Ria and the others are all kneeling around me, looking equally as concerned. "Are you okay, Luce?" Ria asks.
"Um, yeah." I try and roll to get my hands under me so I can lift myself up, but my arms give out and I end up with my cheek awkwardly smooshed against Hobbie's upper leg. Oh my god, I thought, this is so embarrasing. He's probably going to shove me off now, for being dumb.
Hobbie doesn't shove me off. Instead, Ria lifts me off of him and then he stands up and helps support my dead weight. "We can take you to the medbay," he offers. His voice is so caring and worried that I feel really bad for making him - and everyone else - feel that way.
(I just have to worry and annoy everyone, don't I? First it was my parents, then it was the instructors, and now it's the other cadets, including the boy of my dreams. And up next is the doctor. He's busy. He doesn't have time for me and my menial problems)
"Um, no, it's fine," I say. "I, um, just need to lie down." As soon as I try to take a step forward, I sway to the side. Ria and Hobbie tighten their grips on me.
"We'll help you," Ria says, as if that settles it.
The walk back to the barracks is awkward. It's dead silent except for the sound of our shuffling. My feet are moving so slow it's like I have weights in my shoes. Hobbie and Ria don't complain, but twice I've caught them giving each other a look. A suspicious one. A knowing one.
I feel sick again.
We reach the female barracks. Hobbie waits outside for, ahem, modesty purposes as Ria helps me into my bunk. Once she's done, she steps back and looks at me. Her face is very sympathetic.
"Are you sure you don't need to go to the medbay?" she asks.
I nod slowly. "Yeah. This has happened before. I, um, I know what to do. I just have to um, lie down for a while."
"I can always go get the doctor..."
"Don't bother. He's always busy. I don't want to annoy him." I put on my best smile, which is only marginally better than my weakest. "I'm fine, see?"
Ria frowns. "If you were fine, you wouldn't have fainted in the first place."
(She does have a point. I'm not fine. I haven't been fine in years)
"Anyway, I still think you should go to the medbay," Ria continues. "You've got problems, Luce. I don't want to see you suffer anymore. The doctor can help you, but first he has to know..."
(Why would Ria care? Why would anyone care about a sadsack like me?)
"No!" I say, louder than I meant to. "No, don't tell the doctor. Or the others. I don't want to upset anyone. Please, just don't tell anyone."
This only serves to make Ria look even more concerned, but she quietly says "okay then" in a voice that doesn't entirely convince me. She tells me that she's willing to listen if I want to talk about anything, but she'll give me some time alone now.
She pads out of the barracks and, as soon as the door hisses closed behind her, begins talking to Hobbie. Even though the door's closed, they're loud enough that I can make out what is being said.
"Is she okay?" Hobbie asks.
Ria answers with a question of her own. "Has anything like this happened before?"
"Well, Roran said that she fainted in the simulators one time, but I just thought he was making it up, or at least exaggerated it. You know what that dickhead's like." There was a brief pause, then Hobbie started talking again. "I'll admit, Luce and I never really interacted before. I was just too caught up in other matters to really pay attention, but seeing her up close just now...I'm starting to get worried about her. She's really thin. Almost like a skeleton."
"Mmn. I've seen her go to the refresher after every meal. I think...I think she has an-"
Then Ria says two words that make me feel like I've been punched in the stomach.
Eating disorder.
My eating is disordered. The idea that my eating is so fucked up that it's considered an illness makes me feel even more sick than I already do.
That's because I am sick, aren't I?
I hate it. I hate it so much. I want it to stop.
I want the pain to end, but I don't know what to do.
My mouth feels dry, but I don't have the energy to get some water. Instead I pull my blanket over my head and let out the tears I didn't know I had.
This might sound stupid, but having a label attached to it makes it seem so much more real and believable. Shocking. Tangible. Abnormal.
I have an eating disorder. That is not normal. I am not normal.
Ria and Hobbie continue their conversation for a while. They discuss whether any other cadets know (possibly), whether the instructors and doctors know (Ria speculates that I've "fallen through the cracks") and what they should do to help. They seem to agree that either gentle encouragement or - most alarmingly - going to the doctors about it would be a good start.
I can detect a growing distaste creeping into their voices; though whether it's aimed at me or something else, I don't know.
Eventually though, the conversation ends as Ria bids him goodbye and walks off somewhere else. Hobbie stays outside the door for another minute and, although I'm not entirely sure, I swear I heard him say something else.
"...I thought they cared about us," he says, very softly. "All of us."
He should be more careful about what he says and when he says it, I think. I don't want him to get into trouble with the instructors.
Ria did go to the doctor about it. I know this because the doctor has called for me to go to the medbay for an emergency check-up.
I'm ashamed to admit I cried when I heard the news. I just didn't want to worry anyone with my problems. It's my own mess, and no one else should have to clean it up for me.
But Ria does care about me in some capacity, otherwise she wouldn't have gone to the doctor, and that makes me feel horrible and selfish for trying to reject her kindness.
I'm making my way through the hallways towards the medbay. I just finished lessons for the day, which I only barely scraped by. I'm not the only one struggling; most others are too. The work is progressively getting harder (and the demands more, well, demanding to be met).
The pressure is rising, and it might explode before too long.
Some cadets are starting to get more disgruntled. Erie was bitching to Cassy about how tiring all this work is, and Roran was bragging about his lesson score of 47%, which wasn't even the highest in the class. That honour belongs to Wedge's 62%...
Speaking of whom, Wedge, Rake and Hobbie are in the hallway, speaking in hushed whispers. They look up when they hear me coming and stop talking. They each give me a sympathetic look and Rake gives me a small smile.
"Hey, Luce. Are you feeling better today?" he asks.
"Yeah. I'm fine." I mumble. It's kind of awkward, being in their presence after they saw me at my most vulnerable. So I avoid their gazes and walk a bit faster.
"You know, you can come to us if you need anything." Hobbie adds.
I give a sort of "uh huh" sound and speed up until I round the corner at the end of the hallway. I press my back against the wall to rest for a moment, as I'm feeling dizzy now, and I listen to the boys continue their conversation.
"You're right Hobbie, she does look skeletal." Wedge says. "How did we not notice before?"
"Well, we were busy with other stuff," Hobbie replies firmly. "But the instructors and the medstaff, they should have noticed. They have no excuse." He pauses for a moment, then adds, "they're supposed to care about us. No one should be "falling through the cracks," so to speak."
"This just reaffirms my feelings about the Empire," Rake hisses in a voice so low I almost don't catch it. "We have to get out of here as soon as possible."
"We can't just yet," Hobbie says. "We haven't recieved any kind of help yet as far as I can tell - hell, we don't know if they're even going to send help at all. In any case, we're going to have to stick it out for a bit longer."
Wedge groans. "I hope it's not too long. I hate this place so much I...!" His voice trembles and his next words are startling and jarringly loud in the stillness of the hallway. "Fuck the Empire!"
One of the others sharply draws in his breath. There's a few seconds of heavy silence before Rake speaks in an alarmed tone. "Geez Wedge, not so loud!"
"Look, I don't want to be here any more than you do," Hobbie says crossly, "but we have to wait for the perfect opportunity. We've stuck it out this far, we can stick it out a little more. And that also includes not cussing out the Empire."
"...Yeah, you're right." Wedge says sheepishly. "Sorry."
I'm not shocked to find out there are other dissidents in my very own class, but I'm rather pleasantly surprised. They too understand the need to escape and breathe without restrictions, to combat what is wrong, to be free. I'm feeling like I can finally relate to other people. It's almost kind of exhilarating.
I'm considering joining their conversation when Hobbie suddenly whispers, "Someone's coming. Quick, change the subject."
With a well-practised fluidity, Wedge smoothly says to Rake, "Do you know Leera? That girl with the black hair?"
"Yes, why?"
"I've heard that she had a crush on you."
I can hear the warm smile in Rake's voice as he responds, "Does she?"
"Haven't you noticed her staring at you in the mess hall? She's totally into you!" Hobbie adds.
"Who wouldn't be?" Wedge says.
Rake lets out a flattered laugh before a fourth voice joins them.
"Don't you boys have anything better to do than gossip?" I can tell from the authorative hoarseness that it's Solaris.
It's at this moment that I decide to carry on with what I'm doing. The doctor won't be very happy with me if I'm late, after all.
I continue down the near-empty hallways. I'm nearing the medbay when I see Skerris up ahead, walking towards me. I feel my body instinctively freeze up, except for my feet, which keep shuffling forwards. Scary old Skerris is, quite literally, the last person I want to see right now. Hopefully he'll just walk right past me.
No suck luck. He stops walking and begins to speak to me. "I hear you fainted again yesterday."
"Yes, sir." I mumble.
"You should get that sort of thing checked out."
"I'm going to the medbay now, sir."
"Good. We can't have our pilots fainting in the middle of a dogfight."
"No, sir."
Skerris clears his throat. "Well, I'll leave you to it. I expect to see you in class tomorrow." With that, he keeps on walking past me.
I shiver. Skerris scares me. He always has. He has an air of harshness and ruthlessness that always makes me feel as if I'm in trouble, even if I haven't done anything wrong.
It's unsettling.
I'm standing at the sink in the refresher, collecting water in my cupped hands and splashing my face with it. Erie is applying lip gloss two sinks away while chatting with Cassy, who is combing her hair. From the barracks next door comes the sounds of subdued conversations. The atmosphere is relatively peaceful and so far, it's just an ordinary evening.
Well, it would be if not for the fact that my soul has been bared to the entire medbay's staff.
I had to strip off my clothes so I could be weighed. The doctor's eyes bulged out of his head when he saw exactly how I looked. They bulged out even more when he read the measurements on the scales.
I was ashamed.
The doctor made some comments to the effect of, "Why haven't you told us before, you silly girl?" Then he went on to say that the road to recovery was going to be long and tough and I would have to accept every bit of help sent my way. I nodded my way through his speech, wincing at his firm tone of voice.
When I left the medbay I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. How typical of me. I'm getting some help and all I can think of is that I hope they just forget about me. I don't deserve it. I just need to man up and sort myself out.
I look over at Erie; at her sparkling eyes, plump lips, shiny hair, voluptuous curves, slender legs. She's absolutely gorgeous. I wish I looked like her. I wish I captured the attention of others whenever I step into a room.
Every time I look in the mirror, I half-expect it to shatter.
I look down at my body; ugly, pathetic, fat - no, not fat, the doctor said that I'm severely underweight for my age. Okay then, just ugly and pathetic.
I wish I had Erie's body. Or anyone else's, really.
The worst part about this whole thing wasn't being watched during mealtimes to make sure I ate all my food. It wasn't being instructed to take special pills (which I only pretended to swallow). It wasn't because it was the only reason Hobbie paid any attention to me, purely out of pity.
No. The worst thing was that everyone found out about my abnormality.
Skystrike has a counsellor (who is hideously underqualified, according to the rumour mill) who hosts a weekly group therapy session. Evidently, I'm not the only one with problems severe enough to require professional help.
I'm being forced to attend these now, and my first time was humiliating. As soon as I walked into the room, everyone's heads swivelled round to face me. There were five of them; ten glazed and empty eyes watched me as I took a seat. Their mild curiosity carried an air of apathy.
That was because they had their own problems to worry about.
The counsellor introduced me to everyone in a joyless voice. I was the only first-year cadet; everyone else was a third-year. Three of them had previously tried to commit suicide due to the stress of their work and lessons. Another one has depression. The last one self-harms. They are all on the verge of either washing out or being medically discharged. They told their tales in tired, dreary voices that darkened the room.
When it was my turn to share, I struggled to get the proper words out. I started to crack under their hopeless, apathetic gazes. My issues were so menial compared to theirs that, really, there was no point in me being there.
After I finished speaking, the counsellor talked to us about self-acceptance and moving on with life, but he droned on in such a bored, unhappy voice that I was left feeling worse that before I had gone. A raincloud had seeped its way into my brain and remained there for hours afterwards.
Someone from the therapy session must have told somebody about the "girl with disordered eating" and then that person told someone else, and so on and so forth, because the news was everywhere by dinnertime that very same day.
Roran mocked me about it, saying that if I was too full he'd eat the rest of my food for me, but, to my utmost surprise, Erie told him to knock it off. Erie, who gossiped and complained and never even so much as breathed in my direction, stood up for me.
"We'll look out for you," she said, concern spread across her flawless face. It was surreal. "Eating disorders are so shitty! Like, why do they even have to exist?"
The others at the table nodded in agreement.
"My sister's best friend's cousin had one," Cassy added. "She ate so little that she actually ended up dying. It was horrible."
I must have looked scared, because Lee put her arm comfortingly around my shoulders.
"But of course, we won't let you die," she said. "Not if we can help it."
"I always thought you looked too thin," says one of the boys. "But I didn't say anything 'cause I was worried I'd offend you."
Erie looks embarrassed. "Same."
Erie looked at me, registered all the lines and shadows on my face? Studied me, wondering if she should talk to me? For some reason I feel weird knowing this.
Lee gestures to my bowl. "Do you want to try and eat something?"
I manage a few spoonfuls and try to suppress the urge to vomit.
The hour before we shut off the lights in the barracks and went to sleep became Auntie Luce's Storytime. Everyone wanted to know what the medstaff is doing to help me and how it's working out so far. Ria in particular was curious.
I was sort of flattered that everyone cared so much, and yet I still felt so guilty for causing everyone to be worried and/or angry after what I told them about the therapy session, that I resolved to keep quiet next time. The mood in the female barracks was sour and it was all my fault.
"Ew, him?" Erie exclaimed when I told her who the councillor is. "He is like, so underqualified it's not even funny."
"Really?" Leera asked, shocked. "I thought they'd hire better people for such a prestigious academy."
"You'd think that, but they cut corners in some places."
I silently agreed. Take the TIE fighters, for example. Those things are mass-produced cheaply and can't take a hit. They are flying death machines, and not necessarily in the sense that they were meant for.
I told the girls about how the session made me feel. Everyone was so kind and sympathetic that it hurt. Ria looked guilty.
"I'm sorry, Luce," she said, averting her eyes. "I really was trying to help."
I know she was.
Soon after that it was time for lights out. We brushed our teeth, changed into our scratchy pajamas and crawled into our bunks.
"We'll help you, Luce," everyone said. Although I was unused to this and unsure of how to really react, the sense of camaraderie and kindness these girls were showing me started to make me feel like the future really could be better, no matter what happens down the road. I was high on a feeling that was on par with the guilt and shame.
Acceptance.
I fell asleep quicker and more peacefully than I ever had in the past few years, and I dreamed of one of the few truly happy moments in my life: the Cataract Dawn.
I ran a lot in my teen years. Each day I would wake up and go for a run along one of the many rocky pathways that wound their way all over the mountain on which I lived. It would take me several hours to complete just one path, and by the time I managed to stumble my way back home, I would be on the verge of collapsing.
I kept doing it, though. It was good exercise.
My parents were a little concerned at my intensity, but they didn't try to stop me. Instead, Ma just told me to take a water bottle with me, and lock the door when I leave.
One day, very early in the morning, I was restless; couldn't sleep, couldn't watch anything on the Holo, couldn't concentrate enough to read, so I decided to go on my run for the day. It was still dark out so I grabbed a flashlight and headed off.
The path I took that day was a particularly strenuous one. It was a steep, twisty and narrow path that ended at a small cliff that provided a nice view of some of the surrounding mountains. It was a route I'd taken many times before.
As I approached the cliff, the sky began to lighten up a bit, so I switched off my flashlight. When I finally made it to the top, I was out of breath, my skin was grossly sticky with sweat, and my legs were wobbling violently. Although it was cold, I felt hot, as though I were surrounded by fire.
On my unsteady feet, I made my way to a rock and sat down, staring out at the horizon. Thin orangey-pink clouds started to appear in the dull-blue sky, which was growing lighter and clearer by the second. Everything still had the cold blue haze of the early-morning hours.
I sat there for a while, my sight fixated on Cataract Peak in the distance, still just a distant conical shadow. My racing heart was still trying to slow itself down and my jaw hurt from panting so hard. I was deciding whether I should start heading back home or not when something amazing happened.
The sun rose directly behind Cataract Peak. The peak was swallowed by the sunlight for a few seconds before its dark shadowy colour stood out in perfect contrast with the gleaming yellow. The orangey-pink of the clouds became more electric and vibrant, and the sky grew softer and more inviting.
My words will never be able to do it justice - it was absolutely breathtaking.
I forgot about all my aches and pains as I lost myself in the gorgeous beauty of nature. The scene is stamped into my brain forever. It was one of the few moments of my life when I wasn't constantly miserable or worrying about something or other.
It was wonderful. It made me feel at peace.
The Cataract Dawn, I call it.
I saw myself in my dream: open mouthed, wide-eyed, taking in the sight so I could remember it forever. My dream was as beautiful and serene as the actual event was.
And I woke up the next morning, feeling refreshed and okay about the current state of things.
My morning may have gotten off to an unusually good start, but the rest of the day was perfectly ordinary - I'm just being sarcastic here. We had no training today and we are now all being investigated.
Someone got wind of the fact that Governer Pryce and Agent Kallus from the ISB are here to root out potential defectors. The news was everywhere come breakfast-time and all of us are on edge.
I really, really hope that I don't get found out.
I hate the Empire. I hate what it wants me to do. I hate what it makes me do. I know I haven't really expressed any of these sentiments, but I'm still paranoid. Hopefully, all they see is a dumb Caridan girl with abysmal test scores, and they won't look into that any further.
I hope that Hobbie, Wedge and Rake are keeping their mouths shut. I'm actually kind of glad that I have very little association with them, just in case if the worst comes to the worst.
Before today, I'd been meaning to share my own thoughts and feeling about the Empire, but simply never got the chance to talk to either of them - whether in a group or individually - alone. And now that an ISB agent's here, we won't be chatting any time soon.
We've all been grounded while he's doing his investigation. For once, we have the day to ourselves. But since there's very little to do, myself and many others have found ourselves crowding the simulators, which are still surprisingly available for us to use. I don't set foot in the simulators themselves; instead I just sit back and watch the others.
Right now, Erie and her brother Eade are doing one of the missions that had recently been added: facing off against a squadron of Y-wings and a freighter. They are laughing and joking as the fake Y-wing pilots perish in balls of flame. Another boy is flying the freighter and mocks them relentlessly for being unable to beat him. Cassy and Roran have taken over the main control station, and are shouting words of encouragement to their friends.
All around me are cadets in a jovial and refreshed mood. After all, it's not every day we get a day off and can mess around in the simulators without Goran or Skerris breathing down our necks, criticizing our every move.
But there's one face in the crowd that isn't happy: Ria. She's watching the screen with a look on her face that I don't like. But I can't quite place what emotion that is. Despondence? Agitation? Worry? A mix of all of them?
Whatever it is, it chills me.
An announcement has just come over the loudspeaker: we've got a training mission today. We're heading into space for this one.
Everyone is groaning. After the fun they had yesterday, they really don't want to have to deal with mean instructors and nitpicky criticism. To be honest, neither do I.
I slowly trudge my way to my TIE fighter in the hangar bay. The sky is a bright orange, which is admittedly nice to look at. One of the few perks of being here.
Illuminated by the light are four people: Hobbie, Ria, Wedge and Rake. Ria is speaking in a low voice so I can't make out what she's saying, but I do hear Rake say, somewhat bitterly, "Yeah, and all of ours."
At this point, the boys all turn and walk away. I catch a few glimpses of their facial expressions. Their mouths are all set in firm lines and they have a hard look in their eyes.
Ria seems a little more relaxed, however, and when she catches sight of me, she gives me a small smile before she drops into her TIE.
I'm wondering what they were all talking about to get them in such a mood when my thoughts are interrupted by Goran on the loudspeaker again, telling us to get in our TIEs and take off.
I oblige. I'll just ask Ria about the conversation if I get the chance to do so later.
Rake is dead.
I can scarcely believe it. One minute he was flying in space with the rest of us, the next, he was dead.
That's not all. It turns out that Ria (if that's even her real name) was a Rebel sent to infiltrate the Academy and escape with the defectors: Rake, Wedge and Hobbie. They tried to make a run for it during training today and Rake was shot down.
The other three were captured, but they made another escape attempt. This time they were successful. I'm glad they made it out, but the instructors, especially Skerris, are absolutely seething with rage. They are furious that anyone dared escape. No doubt they're going to keep a much closer eye on the rest of us from now on. Can't afford to have valuable manpower joining the Rebels, I guess.
I'm lying on my bunk. We switched off the lights ages ago but no one's sleeping after the nasty shock we've all had today. I can hear everyone tossing and turning restlessly.
Lee's crying into her pillow. She's taking this harder than anyone else, having had a massive crush on Rake. Her anguished sobs are the loudest thing in the room and it hurts to listen to them.
Erie and Cassy and all the others have been stunned into silence. They knew that there was a penalty for defection, but seeing it happen first-hand has rocked them to their core. No matter our differences, no matter if we supported the Empire or Rebellion, no one had a bad thing to say about the kind-hearted person that was Rake Gahree.
He had been unwillingly converted into spacedust. I can't begin to imagine the raw terror he must have felt in the seconds leading up to his death. I can't imagine how his friends feel, having watched him die and knowing that they narrowly avoided the same fate.
And his family will be heartbroken when they inevitably hear the news. Not only that, but they won't even have the closure that having a body to bury can bring. There is no compensation for the family of a dead traitor; his parents and their grief will be invisible problems to those that caused it.
He had a little brother too; ten years his junior who, from what I've heard, looked up to Rake like he was the Maker himself. How will he feel after hearing that his big brother won't ever be coming back home?
My stomach is twisting and turning. It hasn't stopped since we all flew back to Skystrike in a shocked silence. After I docked, I yanked off my helmet and vomited onto the control panel.
The janitors weren't very happy with me.
The alarms went off a few hours later. We were all instructed to stay where we were. We could hear blaster fire from several floors away. Some time later, one of the stormtroopers let it slip that Hobbie, Ria and Wedge had escaped.
No one ate much at dinner. We all just picked at our meals. No one tried to encourage me to eat more; in fact, no one noticed that I didn't eat at all. One of the kitchen staff made some comment about us wasting food.
We were sent away to our barracks as soon as mealtime was over, and so here I am now. I'm frightened, cold, and even though there is nothing in my stomach, I feel ill.
I look over at the bunk across from me, the one that used to be Ria's, and shiver.
What if I had gone with them? Would I have been the one to die? Or would I have had to watch up-close as my friend exploded into a ball of flame and shrapnel, then disappear into nothingness?
What if?
It appears that the higher-ups of Skystrike are trying to keep yesterday's events all hush-hush, because we were instructed to never discuss it. Even the instructors only referred to it once, as "the incident" and that was that. I guess they're trying to keep it under wraps to avoid sullying Skystrike's reputation. It wouldn't be a good day when the fact that your cadets defected from one of the best flight schools around becomes public knowledge.
Though, it should be noted that they've started really stressing how the Rebellion is a dangerous group of terrorists, more so than usual. Like they don't want us to ever forget.
Well, if this dangerous group of terrorists stands against a controlling government that makes you kill indiscriminately, then I'm all for them.
Even if all those simulated fighters aren't real, I still feel like I've got blood on my hands. I can't imagine what it would be like to actually kill someone.
That's why I'm going to escape. I don't know when, or how, but I'm going to get out of here the first opportunity I get.
I've always known, or at least suspected that the Empire doesn't care about the individuals who make up its ranks, but the fact that no one helped me with my problems until Ria intervened only further proves this.
I've been doing a lot of self-reflecting as of late, and I've had to keep telling myself that even if my problems are all my own fault, that doesn't mean I have to fix them by myself.
Ria taught me that when she went to the doctor. Hobbie taught me that when he helped me to the barracks after I fainted that one time. If everyone in the Rebellion is as caring as they are, then I can't wait to join them. And if I was worth enough to them for them to help me despite me being, in essence, a total stranger, then I'm sure I will be worth something to the Rebels.
I still feel terrible all the time for getting myself into this in the first place, don't get me wrong, but this epiphany is making me feel a little bit better.
I feel kind of brave, because of my escape-attempt-to-be. I feel...inspired.
I feel like I can actually do something with my life for once. Something useful.
I can fly for the Rebellion. Fly freely, for freedom.
It's been two weeks since the defection and I'm getting restless. There's no sign of an opportunity to escape anywhere in sight. The days are going by slowly. I'm still struggling with my health, and Goran's still chiding me over my poor lesson scores. At this rate, I'll wash out from Skystrike before I run from it.
I used to be a much better pilot than this. I wasn't top of the class on Carida for nothing.
Maybe when I join the Rebellion I'll improve again.
But then again, the difficulty of the work has gone up, even more so now. We're now constantly being questioned on protocol and how to treat any Rebel prisoners we may happen to obtain, as well as stressing the importance of following orders. I guess this is their way of making sure we have what it takes to make it in their world, as well as to maybe help weed out any more defectors.
I seriously hope they don't think I'm about to ditch them based on my poor performance.
But if they suspected me because of that, then Eade, Roran and several other cadets would also be on their radar, and I know for a fact that they are avid supporters of the Empire's rule.
(I know this because I happened to overhear Roran and the Marsell twins discussing the "incident" in an empty hallway, saying that it was a massive shame such a good man died, but at the same time, he knew the price defection carries.)
I think I'm safe...for now.
I'm in another group therapy session. The atmosphere is as dreary and pained as ever. The light seems dimmer than the other rooms on this floor. Everyone's eyes are blank and dark; the lights in them are off but they're home, all right. They're just sitting, huddled in the oppressive darkness, unable to reach for the light switch.
The therapist is talking about how we needn't worry, for the Empire is here to help all of us. I can't help but think, lies, lies, lies.
If the Empire truly cared, the others wouldn't even be here in the first place.
I didn't speak much in that session, and I ate even less at dinner.
I found some unexpected companionship a few days ago.
I was lying on my bunk, thinking about what my next action to escape should be. The dark grey of the bottom of Leera's bunk proves to be a surprisingly good canvas for my thoughts.
The only other person in the barracks was Lee herself. She was curled up on her bunk, sobbing as quietly as possible. For someone who only interacted with him a few times, she was taking Rake's death pretty hard. I guess that's what love does to you.
(Now I'm extra glad that Hobbie made it out okay)
I just kept staring up at the bottom of her bunk, deep in thought, when I felt eyes on me. I turned my head to see Lee leaning over the side of her bunk, looking at me with red, puffy eyes. There was silence for a moment before she spoke:
"Can I tell you a secret?"
I nodded.
She swallowed thickly. "I don't wanna be here anymore."
We made eye contact, enough for me to see she was dead serious. And then I found myself replying:
"Neither do I."
And that was all it took for us to become allies. Lee and I, we're in this together now.
And, to our luck, we may have an opportunity to escape coming up.
About two weeks from now, all cadets will be split up into small groups and sent away to different Imperial bases. There, we get first-hand experience about living and working on a proper base. We'll be shadowing the professionals, taking part in scout missions, and other similar activities.
And yes, I'll be going too. Apparently I'm still considered fit enough to fly, though the base I'm going to has been informed of my condition, and I'll still be recieving treatment - which means more therapy sessions, no doubt.
I feel like a cog that has been broken, then given a menial repair job, slapped back into place and put to work again, despite the obvious crack down the middle.
My one saving grace is Lee. We're going to be in the same group. We're going to Scarif.
I've heard that Scarif is a planet full of small islands and sandy beaches, warm oceans and cooling breezes. Lee's fantasising about maybe being able to get a tan.
I wish I could get a tan. Instead, I burn.
Anyway, we have already formulated a plan. Once we get there, we'll behave like any other Empire-loving cadets. We'll do our work without complaint, obey each and every single rule, that sort of thing.
We'll keep up the charade for a week or two, then, once we get the chance to, we'll steal a ship and make a break for it. Whether we steal a ship under the cover of nighttime or accidentally (deliberately) get separated from the others during a scout patrol and simply fly away. Admittedly, we haven't quite worked that part out yet, but I'm sure we'll find a solution once we get there.
After that...
I said we should immediately try to find the Rebellion, and Lee said that we should lay low somewhere, just until the initial flurry of chaos following our desertion dies down.
We argued about this for a while before finally agreeing on a compromise of sorts - after we leave Scarif, we'll go to Alderaan: Lee's homeworld. She said that its always tended to lean more towards the Rebellion than the Empire, and that we're bound to find someone there who knows where the Rebel base is.
I'm still a bit curious as to how someone from the obviously Rebel-sympathising planet could ever join the Empire, but I figured that Lee was like me: she wanted to fly, and joining the Empire was her way of achieving that goal. Maybe her life was at a dead-end and she wanted out, not realising how bad the Empire actually was until she too far in to simply leave.
I must remember to ask her sometime.
I've thought about finding someone else who wants out, (like the cadets in therapy) and getting them to meet up with us on Alderaan somehow, but Lee put her foot firmly down. She's worried that they might double-cross us and sell us out, or that the wrong words will make their way into the wrong ears.
I do see where she's coming from. The girls may have been supportive of me and my problems; they may have hated that Rake had to die, but that doesn't mean that they hate the Empire.
It still makes me sad though, unable to help those in my therapy session, those who deserve to get out of here sooner than later. But Lee's not budging on this and I've had to accept it and look towards the future.
It's scary.
This could result in our freedom...or our deaths.
We could be birds, carefree and happy. Or stuck in cages for the rest of our lives.
But this is a risk I'm willing to take. There's nothing for either of us here. It's time to cut our losses and stand up for what we believe in.
I'm scared.
Lee's scared.
But we have to do it.
I try to keep my eyes firmly on the light at the end of the tunnel, as bright and beautiful as the Cataract Dawn. Just a few more metres and I'm there.
After so many years of being stuck at the midway point, I can finally find it within myself to keep moving forward. It's a struggle, but I'm getting there, one step at a time.
I find myself excited for what may lie ahead.
Maybe I'll regain my love for flying, from before I joined the Empire.
Maybe I'll see Ria again and be able to thank her for showing me kindness and compassion.
Maybe I'll be able to properly pay that kindness forward to someone less fortunate than me.
Maybe I'll be able to talk to Hobbie, get to know him better, tell him how I feel.
Maybe one day I'll finally be rid of my eating disorder for good...
I think all that can happen...
I think.
I hope.
The title is from the song "This Too Shall Pass" by Ok Go, which I felt suited the hopeful tone of the ending - you may be miserable now, but don't worry; it'll pass."
Again, I hope you enjoyed my story and feedback is always appreciated!