Day 45
Over a month has passed, but it still feels like yesterday. Somehow I think it always will. That I'll always wake up drenched in sweat, tears pouring down my cheeks. Is this how every survivor feels? Like their heart will tear in half any minute? Do they always find fresh tears to cry, no matter how many they're already cried?
Keira's grown again, barely perceptibly. Most people wouldn't have noticed, but I watch her all the time, not every tiny change. If I don't, I'll go mad. She's my link to the world, to my sanity. To hope. As long as I'm around her, I'll be alright. Their ghosts won't haunt me.
I'll have to get myself a proper job soon. I can't live off these people forever. It wouldn't be right. And they'll need to throw every spare credit towards the rebellion. Every credit helps. I know.
I haven't used the Force since that day. I'm going to have to get over my fear of it before I train Keira, which gives me a few years. I can't start training her until I can impress on her the nessesity of secrecy. But I just can't handle it yet. It radiates pain, anger, and shadowing these, darkness. A great black darkness that swallows everything in its path. No hope can exist while that black darkness covers the Force.
I admire the defiant spirit of the Chandrilians. But they're so naieve. They really believe the new Emperor can be foisted from his throne. Only a Jedi has any chance of succeeding, and all the remaining Jedi are in exile and broken. Surely they realise this. But I haven't the heart to tell them. It warms my heart to see someone fighting back.
I only wish it were me. But I have to watch Keira, and I'm not ready. If I fought, I would take out my rage, my grief, on the troops, clone or not. I don't want to turn to the darkness.
But I still wish it were me.