He's A Jedi

Broken

He didn't know how long it had been. 2..3 weeks? Months? Hell maybe years at this point. The days dragged. He was tired. He was weary. He wanted to sleep. And sleep forever to escape the mental anguish the walls kept him in.
The walls were gray, sleek stone with veins of sparkling red so deep it looked as if the walls themselves were bleeding. His wrists were raw under the black restraints that held him against the wall. Day in, day out, these walls would torment his mind. Maybe that was the point. He tried reaching the force. Every day he tried to grab the sweet, calming blue light if it to no avail. Like it was being held from him, or hell- maybe it didn't want him anymore.
He could feel no one. Nothing. Like a painful void tinged in red fog. It was agony. Every memory seared into his mind, all the good was overshadowed by the dark. He never wanted to remember them. Never. These red veins forced him too and he knew why.

Her body limp in his arms. Growing cold as she caressed his face. Her breast cut open by the darkest blade he ever witnessed.

It's your fault you know. She could have lived.

Days he tried to comfort his friend over his wife being away, possible danger. It was wrong. But if he couldn't have the woman who helped him live, his friend could count on him to keep his secret.

Did you though? You caused so much pain. Every painfully boring lecture. When did you help them?

Trying to be voice of reason for the best padawan he's seen besides his own, to be overcasted by his former. Orders ignored," I was trying to help. "

You should step down. You aren't needed anymore. How valuable are you really? No ones coming for you. You've been saved too many times. It's time you weren't.

Every mission putting himself on the front, in the way of a beating, a blast, anything to make sure his friend, the padawan, his clones won. And won safely.

You were only in the way. And you know it. What would Qui-Gon think?

Qui-Gon.. His master. It was his fault. He was childish. Reckless. Selfish. He missed him. It hurt. Hurt so much. Tailing him as a child, wanting to know why he was chosen from the mines. He was small but confident. The council didn't want him but why this strong Jedi?

He'd still be alive if not for you. You should have been left there. Deep in the mines. Forced to work. Why you? What makes you so special? Nothing. So you can use both Light and Dark? You're nothing but a disgrace.

The warrior once known was blank. Neutral. Unwavering to anything that was thrown at him. He was able to block the darkest parts of his mind. Trauma of being in the mines. A dark corner he worked on. 3 older boys closed in on him. Grabbing hands at his -
"NO! "
Obi-Wan shook out of his mind. He couldn't even manage blocks or shields. It was useless. He knew his even darker terrors would come to light. Not today.. Just. Please not today.
He wanted so bad to sleep. He had been using the force as best to his abilities to rest or meditate. All cut into by bloody scenes or shadowed memories he wanted no part of. Forget them, wash them away as the council would tell him. But they don't know what he went through. They couldn't. His mind was always racing, never at ease. Never truly calm. It was masked by his swordsman skills and force abilities. The younglings always marveling at his stories he wished he could stop retelling. They weren't glorious to him. But he made them so to keep the small children's hope alive they'll be victorious and come home safe.
He knew better.
To see Ashoka on the field, so young but so amazingly bright and brave for everything she went through with Anakin. He was amazed, but guilty she was in this. This was no place for a child. Never. Not for him, not for Anakin, not for a young girl.
.
.
He figured another day passed. he couldn't remember the last time he had water. Or food for that matter. His lip was split from the cold air. His once toned muscles shook as he tried to rest against the wall. His hair still a beautiful Auburn underneath, was slick with dust from how long he had been there. Morning condensation made his cell humid some days. He felt disgusting. He knew however when the dew formed he was on a planet at least. Knew it was morning when the droplets dropped down from cracks. He had to be underground. At least right under the surface somewhere.
He felt ill. His captor made sure he felt everything. Any pain he could feel. Mental. Gnawing hunger. Drying up from dehydration like a fish trapped in a draining lake. Physical. He would look at his raw wrists, the cuts and burns along his torso. The lower back pain.
The memories would flood him with every tinged twist if his nerves in his spine. The Jedi did nothing in those mines. They Watched.
They. Watched.
He was lesser than. Why wouldn't they. He would surprise the want to harm them. It was his family as far as he knew. Snatched from his mother. His brother, father. The temple was all he was allowed to know. And here's where it got him. He wished he could've saved Satine. Ran away with her. Told his friend to pack and come with them. Anything different than what happened.