Crossroads

Choice

I didn't remember much when I woke up, though I did have a headache from hell.  My head felt like it was going to physicaly explode at any moment now.  

Even my eyelids hurt; when I oepned them and took in my surroundings, memories started to slowly flow back to me. 

The feeling of that man's hand around my throat, the pain I felt in my whole body fought against his vice grip.  The betrayal and utter shame as he snuck into my mind and saw my cold, lonely nights. It seemed this man hunted Jedi-- he thought there were only two remaining Jedi left in the galaxy.  And then I came along and seemed to throw a wrench in whatever he needed.

He could be a bounty hunter, but I doubed that.  He was strong with the Force, too strong.  Only someone trained in the Force, or the Jedi arts, could be that skillful and powerful.  To infiltrate one's mind was a form of torture in the eyes of the Jedi.  To forcefully pry one's way into someone's mind, into their thoughts, their memories, was the ultimate invasion of privacy. 

But he had to have some sort of Force training.  No one untrained was that powerful.  A horrible, disgusting thought fluttered into my mind. 

What if that man was a former Jedi? Or a Jedi trained him in the dark side?

 A chill ran down my spine, my hairs standing upright at the thought.  He could have been at the Temple, a former Jedi.  But he didn't seem familiar to me.  I had only been a Jedi for a short time before Order 66 was declared, and I don't remember him or his presence.  

I barely remember my time as a padawan-- my memories of that time were locked away, far away from my reach.  He could have been at the Temple while I was young, but there was no way of knowing.

How could a former Jedi do this? How could he torture and hunt us down like criminals? I had a feeling my fate would be the same as all the former Jedi before me, who were likely kept in this very room. I could feel the weight of death, many former deaths, descend upon my shoulders. 

The clanging of the door jottled me slightly. I stayed still, unmoving from my tiny corner as two Storm Troopers walked in.  He walked in as well, his cloak covering his eyes, shielding himself form my gaze.

Who are you?

"Get up." He growled. I wasn't exactly fearful, more so just wanted to refuse to do what he said.  .  The troopers grabbed my arms and hoisted me up after I hestitated for a moment. I gritted my teeth as they shoved my hands into cuffs.  The cold metal bit into my flesh as it constrained me. I eyed the cloaked man, trying to get a glimpse of who he was underneath the cloth.  I didn't feel any sort of familiarity with him-- only fear. And anger.

The troopers pushed me toward the door-- I stumbled but caught myself as I followed the man out of my cell.  The hallways were dark, much like the cell, lined with lines of red lights on the bottom and top.  Troopers and droids swarmed the halls, the sheer number of them overhwhelming me. I hadn't been around this many people, all at once, in years. I almost forgot that this many people could even be in a space together.

 The guards steered me toward an elevator-- it rose into the building, ship, whatever I was on, disspearing into the blackness of the floors above.

The elevator ride was dead freaking silent.  I stood in between the guards, while he stood in front of us.  He was tall, so tall, almost two feet taller than me.  His cloak was stark black, flowling behind him slightly. 

 Though, there was nothing I could see that would help me identify this man. The car stopped and the troopers shoved me out, my feet flailing from under me slightly.  The room was dark and cold, much like the rest of the place. Small windows on the far wall looked into the darkness of space-- I ached to have a glance, just to see where I was and what exactly I was even on.