ℝ𝔸𝕋𝕀𝕆ℕ𝔸𝕃 ➵ o. kenobi {my only hope; book 1}

【 FOURTEEN 】

     ᴍʏ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴘʟᴀɢᴜᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ. Some were familiar, some were foreign, but they all had the same key elements... dreams and visions that reminded me of my fear... my fury, my hatred. They all tied back to the same scenario... that disaster in the alley in which I'd seen the worst version of myself. I saw myself not as myself, but as a bystander, quivering in fear at the look of malevolence and malice in my usually bright brown eyes. I had my hand extended toward the five men with no remorse, straining myself more and more without a care in the world to make sure they'd pay. Padmé's face was coated with fear and disgust, and Qui-Gon... he wasn't angry or disappointed, but he was concerned. Concerned at who I'd become, who I would turn out to be. And right after he'd given me that glowing compliment... my stomach burned with guilt.

My dreams started to fade away as I began to regain consciousness... that was a simultaneous relief and burden. The dreams were bothersome and awful, and I hated that they brought out the worst in myself. But at least in my dream reality I could avoid facing those who'd been counting on me, who would have been most disturbed by my outburst. I wasn't sure I'd have the courage to look either Qui-Gon or Padmé in the eyes again. Not after that incident in the alley.

My eyes flickered open, and for a second, it took me a moment to adjust and gain my bearings. I was no longer out in the Mos Espa alleyway. From what I could tell of the plain, sandstone walls, solid bed and pitcher of water on the nightstand next to me, I was back at the Skywalker residence.

With a groan, I sat up in bed, rubbing my forehead. Although the splintering pain from earlier had gone away, my head was still killing me, having dulled to a burning, uniform ache. I blinked to clear the glittering stars from my eyes and tried to figure out what had happened.

The door to this bedroom was closed, and no one else was in here, meaning Qui-Gon must have brought me back and settled me in here for some privacy, away from the prying eyes of the others. There was a chair set next to my bed nearby with Padmé's blue vest hanging from it, meaning she'd been here as well. She'd probably been the one to deliver the water. I wanted to decipher more, but it was a little hard with the annoying ringing noise in my ears, resonating through my mind and piercing my every nerve, seemingly aggravating every pressure point in my body.

Soon, though, I realized that it wasn't just a ringing noise. It was coming from something... another device that had been set on my bedside table. I recognized the circle of powerful metal--it was my holographic projector.

I quickly grabbed it and examined it, checking to see who was trying to reach me. From as far as I could figure, the message was coming from a Nubian ship on the outskirts of Mos Espa, which meant this was Obi-Wan, trying to contact me.

My heart skipped a beat, nearly jumping into my throat. Had Qui-Gon told him what had happened? Was he calling to let me know he wanted nothing to do with me anymore? That staying away had been as hard for him as it had been for me, but now it was easy... that he was disgusted with what I'd done, and couldn't believe I could be so evil? Every thought about myself that could come tumbling from Obi-Wan's mouth began to manifest itself in my mind, shouting terrible things at me, breaking down whatever nerve I had left.

Bracing myself for the worst and blinking back tears, I pressed a button on the machine, and a blue, holographic image of Obi-Wan sprang to life on my projector.

"Emeré!" Obi-Wan cried. I surveyed his face tentatively for any trace of disdain or disgust, but instead, I found an emotion I hadn't been expecting to see. Relief.

"Obi-Wan?" I asked. For my first time speaking since the incident, I didn't sound too hot--it sounded like I'd just recovered from a cold, with my voice strained and low, cracking every couple syllables.