Tomorrow

"Lyra, hold the light saber up and use the force." Darth Vadar said and Lyra scowled. Use the force? Could he be any more vague? "Now, feel the force and deflect the rays." He continued, his instructions so plain. Lyra raised an eyebrow at him, she's only five years old, what could she do?

Before she could even think another thought, a beam of red shot at her arm, making her flinch and open her mouth in pain. It stung like hell. She rubbed the place where she got hurt, now stoplight red, before another ray shot at her other arm. THis time, she screamed.

"Lyra, deflect the Rays!" Her father screamed, as if it was as easy as that.

"I can't!" Lyra replied, angrily. "The force sucks for me!" Darth Vadar smiled, even though nobody could see his smile. Lyra was getting angry. Good.

"Lyra, grab all that hatred, all that anger and focus it on that Ray. Think about how much you hate it, how much you hate everything. How much you hate the Rebels and Jedi for killing you-your," He took a deep breath. "Your Mother. Now, focus all of that on those Rays."

"Yes, Father." Lyra replied, her voice cold and unfeeling.

When the next Ray went out, she deflected it with ease. It was what she was born to do. What she was trained to do, even if her training was only, like, three minutes long. But hey, it's longer than Luke's training in A New Hope.

As the minutes went by, she only misses one Ray, which burned her shoulder. She growled at the floating ball and sliced it in half. It fell onto the ground.

"Good job, Lyra." Darth Vadar said as Lyra took in deep breaths. Her little five year old body was shaking in anger. Her eyes flashed with hate. Darth Vadar could sense it, her heart was turning dark. It was turning into a black hole. He just needed to give it a little push off the edge.

"Good job."

the truth was, Lyra was tired of feeling alone. Of being different. All she wanted was to have a friend, and her father was the only person who granted her wish. When he told her about how she had to deflect the Rays, she would do it. She didn't want her father to be disappointed, or mad. She wanted to keep her father as her friend, because if she didn't, then she'd be all alone.

it wasn't the rage or fury or hate that made her deflect the Rays, it was the fact that she might be abandoned. That's what drove her innocent mind to deflect it. That, and the fact that she was pretty good at it. Like she was born to do it.

When light saber training was over, she sat on the cold bench and looked at her hands. Nobody ever told anybody this, but light savers didn't have a grip, or really anywhere to put your hands. It was all buttons, which were useless in the first place, with tiny areas for your hands.

So , her hands were bruise purple and dark blue. She winced when she touched anything, and only felt sore if she touched nothing. Sith must have hands of steel to let their hands not bruise up every time they fight. She swiped some of her curly hair away from her face. It was almost below her ear, she was obvisously going to get her hair cut soon. She didn't know why, but her father hated it when she had her hair longer than her ears. Absolutely hated it.

She lightly massaged her hands, trying to get the pain out, but nothing worked. It only grew more painful by the second, like someone was slamming a hammer down on her small, young hands.

Eventually, her father came, and the second he saw her bruised up hands, he instincts almost took over. He wanted to rush over and tell her that he was sorry, sorry for making her work too hard, for being a bad father, for hurting the only thing that was left of Padme. For everything.

Almost.

Instead, he slightly nodded. He couldn't let her feel, or see, kindness, or else her Jedi spirt, as he liked to call it, might awaken. Might turn her into Padme. Might make her see that the Sith aren't what he told her were. Might turn her into, well, a Jedi.

And he couldn't have that.

She looked up to him in pained eyes, hoping that maybe he might help her. Might tell her that it was okay. All she ever wanted was an ounce of love in her life of pain and coldness. Even though most five year olds would want toys or junk food, she just wanted to be loved. To be cared for. He was her father. Her only friend.

All she wanted was for him to care for her.

But he just walked away after that, without saying anything else. She tilted her head, like a bird, and opened her mouth to say something. Anything.

But nothing came out.

Her hands burned in pain as she clutched them to her chest and sighed, before telling herself that it was alright. Father must've had to attend to some important Sith business. Father must've needed to deal with those Rebels and remaining Jedi. Father must've needed to do something that was more important than her... His own daughter, his own flesh and blood.

And that it was alright, because he was her father.

But deep down she felt this gaping hole in her chest. Her conscious wouldn't let her believe it, but she knew the truth. Deep down, she knew.

She knew that she wasn't just lying to someone, she was lying to herself. THere wasn't anyone else to lie to. Deep down, she knew that he didn't really care for her, that she was just going to make excuses for him leaving when she needed him the most. She was never going to be cared for, never going to be loved, never going to have long hair... (Yes, that long hair thing is very important to Lyra. Why? Because I'm the author, I know how she feels. Ha! I can make the rules now!)

But on the outside, where it really mattered, she just convinced herself that it was okay.

Darth Vadar didn't know where to go. He just needed to get away.

Sith weren't suppose to love, they weren't suppose to feel anything but hate and vengeance. It was weird, the one thing that both the Sith and Jedi agreed on was that you were never, ever suppose to love. It was always a losing situation, you could never be with the one you love.

Even though he was fully devoted to the ways of the Sith, even though he knew that he was never going back to the Jedi ever again, somewhere in his chest ached in pain. It was one thing to leave a child, hurt and defenceless. It was another to leave your own child hurt and broken.

It was the way that she looked at him, hope framing her eyes, pain cased inside, tears about to drop. It was the way she pleaded, no, begged for him to help her. To help his own flesh and blood. The way she held her hands, her perfect little hands, together in pain. It was all of it that made him want to rush up to her and hold her, telling her that it was alright, that it will forever be alright.

But that wasn't the way of the Sith.

HE didn't even notice that he reached the communications room. His master often went on journeys to other star systems, so he often didn't come back, and if he did, only for a few minutes before leaving. His schudule was packed to the max, only saving a little bit of room to check on his apprentice to make sure he didn't blow up the Death Star or anything.

His gut told him to go in and talk to his master, but he shook his head. Sometimes, going in there made him feel kind of angry. He didn't know why, but he had this strong urge to choke someone. To kill someone. And he didn't want that today.

So he just went to his bedroom, where he lied on the bed. THe day hasn't been long, or exhausting, but he needed to sleep. He had to take his mind off of Lyra.

But sleep never came. All he could do was stare at the red tinted view of his mask, and think. THe only sound was his own breath, that breathing noise that's now copyrighted of Disney so we can't do it on this Fanfiction or I might get sued. Plus I don't know how to type that noise on a piece of paper.

It wasn't until almost midnight, when sleep dragged him away.

It was actually 12:02 A.M. When he fell asleep, but who cares? Not me.

A/N There's been this weird thing going on on my IPad (I love Apple, who's with me?) that whenever I type for a long time, the screen glitches and freezes, then it deletes my chapter. I had to redo this, like, five times. I'm serious.

I don't blame Apple (I don't think I do anyways) but I was just wondering, does this happen to anyone else? Like, really, it's kind of annoying.

Oh, and you should:

Review this story so I know if it sucks or not. If it does, I will take it off and sob in the corner of my room while eating ice cream.

Just saying.

Also, follow me. Like, don't you want to stalk anyone in your life? On the Internet and on a website? Don't actually stalk me though, that's rude!

Sorry if this chapter wasn't very funny, I've been having a joke block lately.

Laughs and Giggles

Emily :)