A Life Best Forgotten (Chapter 2)

The day I put down my mandovil was a very painful day for me. I wasn't just letting go of my music, I was letting go of pappa, his dreams, his memories. But I just couldn't do it anymore. I felt so weak, so empty. The music that once claimed my soul felt so alien to me. What once caressed my very being, brought happiness and serenity wherever I went, was now the serial killer that followed me in the shadows. It had let me down in the worst way. It made me blame myself for Vinny's death and I hated it for that. I didn't deserve to make anyone happy anymore. Pappa was gone. But I had to do something. So I picked up a sword and became more active with the Regiment, hunting and tracking Rebels.

The sword was an extension of my body, as my music once was. I trained everyday under the study of the greatest teachers. I learned all they could teach me. I could wield either a one or two-handed sword. I got bored with the blade soon and started studying the art of hand to hand combat. I became just as deadly with my fists as I was with a blade. I had traded in one instrument for another. Killing became a catharsis for my wounded soul.

Those months are a blur to me. Day after day, faces start to run together. One thing I know for sure is, no matter what species you are, we all bleed the same. I became a very valuable asset to the Emperor, and I got promoted through the ranks fairly quickly. The more Rebel blood I spilled, the less I felt. Each life I took briefly numbed the painful memories, but my emptiness only grew more profound. I found sensless murder suited me at the time.

The day I picked up the blade I started feeling more alone amongst the ranks of Sidious. Let's face it, I never really felt like I fit in. They were kind to me, gave me a home and support when I needed it, but I never felt like I was one of them. There were always questions about my past and where I came from. How could I tell them that I was born in a lab? That my dear sweet pappa was a brilliant biogeneticist who created me over many years in secret? That creating my life, cost him his? That everything about me from the color of my hair to my talent for music was programmed into me? Would they ever understand that even though I wasn't conceived in the normal way, I was still human? I knew they wouldn't. So I kept my distance.

There was one who tried to reach out to me. He was a fiesty little Bothan with eyes that looked right through you. He tried to look after me but I pushed him away. I couldn't handle losing anyone else. After awhile he just left me alone. It hurt that he gave up on me but I couldn't blame him. There was no more happiness inside of me. I had pushed it all down below the emptiness and pain. Wrapped it up tightly in the anger and hurt. It was burried so deeply that I wondered if it was real. Had I ever been happy once?

This isn't to say I didn't try to have fun. My smile was big, my laugh was loud, but my soul was empty. I couldn't live the facade anymore. The pain was starting to creep up and overwhelm me. I missed my pappa. I grieved for all the lives that I took. I ached to have my pappa's arms hold me tightly at night to help chase away my demons. Nothing mattered to me anymore, my life was empty. So I made a date to get up close and personal with the Sarlacc.

I packed up my few possessions, slung my dusty mandovil over my shoulder, headed off to Tatooine and I never looked back.