The Mandalorian Jedi

Part Two: Chapter Nine

Hey guys, serious trigger warning here. This chapter contains graphic depictions of serious injury and torture.

The whip came lashing down, crackling with electricity. Again. Again. Again. I was sobbing, begging through the flood of tears for them to stop. Every time I spoke they sent a jolt of electricity shooting through the collar around my neck. It didn't hurt at first, but it didn't take long for it to start to burn. There was so much blood, it had seeped through to the front of his shirt. It took them fifteen minutes to rip the first scream from his throat. Again. Again. Again. It took another twenty for the first tear to carve its way down his blood splattered face. I thanked every kriffing god when he passed out a minute later.

They left the room silently, the blood encrusted whip left to rest against the wall. A promise of what was to come tomorrow. Blood was dripping onto the floor, sliding down the slight slope and collecting in a pool at my feet.

He regained consciousness a few hours later. His eyes were bloodshot. He couldn't raise his head and his legs sagged beneath him. I apologised in a broken whisper over and over. He couldn't hear it but it didn't matter. I kept on saying it as if it would somehow make up for anything.

They brought a healer with them the next day. She cleaned the wounds with a brutal severity that made me wince and slathered them with some kind of poultice. An hour later they apparently decided he was healed enough to begin again. He kept his eyes fixed on me, as if I was the only thing holding him there. I hated the lack of resentment I found there. He took hit after hit after hit, his gaze never faltering. A silent plea to not give up. A promise that he could take it if it meant saving the galaxy from the wrath of a Sith army even as they forced scream after scream out of him. He passed out faster this time.

They came, day after day. The healer doing what she could to save his ravaged back. I cried and cried until I had no tears left to give but our eyes remained steadfastly locked to each other. I tried to comfort him in those hours we spent staring at each other, silently promising this would be over soon. His screams echoed in my ears long after they stopped. Every time I closed my eyes I saw the blood. So much blood. I couldn't sleep if not for the chains that kept me tightly upright then for then for the nightmares that jolted me awake every time I drifted off.

One day he simply didn't wake up. I could hear his ragged breaths and see the faint, irregular rise and fall of his chest. The healer and the man talked quietly for a while and then ordered him to be cut down. They didn't catch him as he fell to the floor. They left him there, the pool of his own blood that covered the floor matting his hair. The man barely acknowledged him, only glancing down with a look of slight disgust as he stepped over his slack body and approached me,
"You are holding up delightfully well my dear." His hand came up and brushed my chin, "but you clearly care too little for this man. We're going to have to try something else..." his eyes lit up, "why I do believe I have just the thing." I didn't have the energy left to think about what he meant. I couldn't take my eyes off of Wraith. What was left of his back was a mess of destroyed skin, half healed scar atop half healed scar. I felt sick as I looked at my own body. No wounds except the burns at my throat, no blood except Wraith's that had slowly seeped up my trousers every time my legs failed me and my body attempted to collapse. I was tired. I was so kriffing tired and I detested every inch of my unharmed self. He hadn't done anything. He had known me less than a day before he lay his life at my feet and allowed himself to be destroyed for my sake. I should be the one laying unconscious in a pool of my own blood. I should have felt the electricity burning each wound as it sliced into my back over and over. It wasn't hatred that burned through me, it was a deep, profound guilt.

I didn't look up when the man returned. My eyes couldn't seem to move from Wraith until I heard a terrified mewl. Naakla.