For The Blood We Spill

Chapter 8 - Truth

Author's Note: Yes, this chapter was supposed to be released on Tuesday, but I kinda forgot. Oops? Lol. Anyways, here you go. Only two days late. :)

WARNING: Self-harm, suicidal thoughts/feelings, blood, and general darkness!

~ Amina Gila

True to Obi-Wan's prediction, Anakin isn't released from the Halls of Healing until two days later with strict instructions to rest and take things easy. He goes straight to his apartment and closes himself in his bedroom, finally feeling as if he can let go of the mask which he's been wearing now that he's alone. It has not been easy, not at all. Even if the Council is happy – and surprised – by him killing Sidious, it's like they still want more. To be sure, everyone is confused and nothing is clear anymore, but Anakin gets the strong feeling that the Jedi want more from him. He doesn't understand it.

But that isn't what's been weighing on him, and whatever feelings he may be experiencing with respect to the Jedi fade away as he sits on the edge of his bed, staring numbly at the floor. It still doesn't seem real to him that he killed Sidious – Palpatine, though some of his memories are creeping back in and becoming clearer. He remembers, vaguely, tapping into the core of the Force and turning Sidious' attack back on him. It destroyed him.

This is – it should be a good thing, so why does he feel like this? Why does he feel so guilty? The Jedi would tell him to let go; they would tell him that his feelings of loss are wrong because Palpatine was evil, and he deserved death. And maybe he did, but that doesn't mean Anakin didn't care about him. How can he still care about someone who he knows was a Sith, someone who betrayed him and the galaxy, someone who offered him mentorship and companionship when he felt lost and alone?

Letting out a shaky breath, Anakin tugs up his left sleeve almost robotically, staring at the faint lightning scars swirling over his skin, practically rendering the self-inflicted scars invisible. He wants to hurt himself, and he's never wanted it like this before. In the past, it's always been more... because he had to do something to get his mind to stop hyper-focusing on the depression and pain which has become his constant companion. Now... it's something deeper, something more akin to a self-loathing at his own actions.

It isn't pain that is driving him now; it's hatred. Of himself. Of Sidious. Of the entire wretched galaxy for doing something like this to him, for playing such a cruel, malicious trick on him, revealing the one person he has long looked up to – except recently, when he couldn't bring himself to look at Palpatine and lie that he was alright – as a monster.

He doesn't want to feel like this. He hates feeling like this, but he doesn't know of anything that could carve all the emotions right out of him. What he's feeling is of the Dark Side, at least that's what the Jedi have long said, and they might be right – they probably are – even if he isn't feeling particularly evil or murderous himself right now. Mainly... disgusted. For being used. For being so foolish. For trusting.

He wants to hurt himself. He deserves to be hurt, and maybe there's a part of him, a part which he doesn't want to admit to having, which eagerly wants to see the blood spilling down his arm. The razor-sharp piece of durasteel flies across the room, landing in his gloved hand, and he drags it across the faint scars marring his arm, across the skin, digging in and leaving a trail of red behind. His nerves are hypersensitive now, still recovering from the electrocution, and he shivers, with something akin to pleasure, at the stinging pain that stabs through his arm. One cut is nothing, even if his nerves insist otherwise.

Good. Let them hurt.

He cuts his arm a second time and then a third, and he no longer knows why he is or what he's waiting for to stop. Normally, it's because he needs a way to distract himself for the turmoil and pain in his head. Now... not so much. It's easy to ignore the physical pain stabbing at him, especially because it's magnified due to his sensitive nerves. It's not enough. He needs more.