Ani - An ftm star wars clone wars au

Chapter 7- Lonely

Trigger warning -mentions of blood, self harm and suicidal thoughts
AN: If people are reading this and enjoying it, please could you let me know with a comment or a vote. This is an outlet for me, and I just want to know I'm not doing something bad. A lot of this book comes from my own feelings, including this chapter, I just don't have anywhere else to put it. Sorry.
Written by Sam
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Anakin woke up that morning, it was nice out, Naboo usually was quite temperate, but still he wasn't happy. He had dreamt last night that he and Padmé were in love, but it ended how his dreams always do, with rejection and pain, leaving him to feel empty once he regained consciousness. He considered telling the young senator about his dream, but she might get scared, and even if he was allowed to have relationships as a Jedi, he still felt it was wrong for him to have happiness. This sadness lingered around him like a storm cloud above his head, and no matter how hard he would try to repress it, he couldn't help but be miserable. Padmé took him out to lunch with her, and she showed him some of her family photos, but nothing shook the bad mood.

By the end of the day, he was too exhausted to consider eating dinner, he just wanted to be alone, and, after requesting some time to himself, he locked his door. Sitting on the bed, he looked around and noticed his lightsaber, he considered hurting himself with it, putting it to his chest and igniting it, but he wouldn't disgrace such a weapon. Lightsabers were elegant, handcrafted and unique, it was a Jedi's life, he couldn't take his own with it, even if he wanted to. Furthermore, he was there to protect Padmé, he couldn't do that if he was dead; but still, he needed an outlet. Heading to the refresher he noticed that there was a shaving kit on the side, gently taking it, he searched for a razor. Once he had it, he walked back to the bed and dismantled it, the shimmering metal pressing on his skin until it drew blood. Running the blade across his arm, the familiar sting was like being back in Tatooine - it hurt, but he was used to it, and even better, he had control. That's all he wanted, some control over his life, that and maybe someone to share it with.

As he lay in a fetal position, starting at the ladder of cuts on his inner elbow, he realised that he was alone. He couldn't contact Obi-Wan, he was on a mission. He couldn't tell Padmé, they weren't close enough. He couldn't tell any of the healers back at the temple, they would lock him in there for days. All he could do was live with it, accept that this was his mind, and that it was broken. That he was broken. This thought made his barriers crumble, and he sobbed, until nothing but a stream of silent tears flowed from his eyes. He was lonely and scared and angry and confused; it had been so long since he felt this way, not since he was fifteen and just coming to realise who he was. The worst part of his torment, however, was questioning whether he deserved the help he had received, or if he was a waste of everyone's time.

Checking the time, he saw it was about two in the morning, had he really been in that state since dinner? He looked at his arm, it was caked in marks and dried blood, that needed to be cleaned. Suddenly, thirst hit him like a sledgehammer, so he tugged on his robes, ignoring the ache from the cuts underneath, and headed to the kitchens. Surprisingly, a lot of the staff were still up, as was Padmé with her sister, she gave Anakin a warm smile, and he tried to smile back, even though his eyes betrayed him. They were puffy and red, his face was pale and he was clutching his sore arm - it worried Padmé, but she didn't want to mention it.

Getting his drink and returning to his room, he gulped it down, then lay back on his bed. As he was there, a thought entered his head.
'It's hard, feeling lonely in a house full of people.'
He let his tiredness begin to enter his mind, and quickly succumbed to the darkness.