That won't happen to you

Chapter 61

It was dark.

It was just absolutely dark.

Nothing but darkness, blackness, and absence of light.

Her eyes were wide open, but still only darkness.

And more darkness.

And more.

It wove itself around her mind, around her eyes, around her heart, around her soul.

Cold, blackness, and impenetrable nothingness.

Hope? The word made no sense.

Dreams? Were foreign to her.

Memories? She had none left. None except darkness, pain and fear.

Unbearable agonies, yes, they had burned themselves into her memory.

But otherwise? Otherwise, everything was black.

Black, dark, and empty.

Black, dark and...

her thoughts stopped. Empty? No, there were thoughts.

Thoughts that revolved around pain, sadness and fear.

About darkness and isolation.

But thoughts.

The darkness was crushing.

It rolled down on her with every second it didn't disappear. Every second it persisted.

It rolled down and crushed her. Destroyed her.

But she was already destroyed. Broken into shards. Crushed to dust, broken.

'Stang' was the only thing her thoughts could say about it.

'Stang what am I doing'

She had no idea.

She just had her blind eyes pointed in the direction they had been when she had been put down.

She felt grass in her face. Her arms were outstretched from her. Forward.

She was lying with her stomach out of the grass.

And everything hurt her.

Yes. The pain hadn't subsided, and it made no effort to do so now.

It flowed through her bones and pinned her to the ground.

She didn't like that.

She didn't like being nailed to the floor.

Whether from pain, or anything else.

But what was she supposed to do about it? She couldn't move. Her freedom had been taken away. She had been tied up.

She decided to fight the shackles.

She did not like to be tied up.

So she moved her hand. Just for a few millimeters. Just a little bit.

Nothing was stopping her.

There was nothing stopping her?

There was nothing stopping her.

She moved her hand again. This time a little more.

She felt the grass brush under her hand.

Grass, not metal.

She moved her other hand.

She could move it too.

Grass no metal.

She pulled her arms toward her, and immediately waves of pain shot through her body.

Her battered mind begged her to stop. Pleaded itself to stop.

But no. She was too stubborn for that.

Was she?

Yes, she was.

She raised her elbows.

The same game. Her body protested, her mind pleaded, and the third one that was there let her go on. The third, the part of her mind that was fighting.

She got up, just a bit, supporting her weight only with her arms.

Pain.

But her head lifted.

And the rest of her upper body.

Air instead of grass.

But it was exhausting. She put her arm to the place where her upper body had been.

It went better that way.

She herself? Well, Ahsoka Tano was back in the game.