That won't happen to you

Chapter 16

The memories faded.

The little she knew for sure was to blurred, so she had trouble grasping it.

She constantly had to remember her name to keep it in mind.

In her past, no one had ever called her Ahsoka.

She was addressed as "little child" or "slave" or "you there."

Well, if that was a true memory.

She hadn't stopped fighting back.

She had only changed it. She no longer rebelled openly, but here and there she took some food from the richly covered trays of her master and distributed it among the youngest of the slaves.

But also her fire disappeared with every whip blow she got for it, with every awake hour on the hard cold metal bed.

She hardly had the courage to steal the food anymore.

Only the hungry faces of the children forced her to go on. Fear shot up inside her every time an overseer came by, she flinched every time one of them raised his hand.

She thought she remembered being stronger, but the memories where she wasn't became more and more clear.

Maybe this strength was just a desperate dream.

She turned the piece of coal in her hand. She had picked it up days ago.

At that time, the image of a man had appeared before her eyes, but in the meantime she no longer knew what he looked like.

Only that she had drawn a picture of him without seeing anything.

She had already given the bread to hungry people.

There were moments when she forgot she had had it for a short time, but somehow she managed to at least capture that memory.

"Come on. What are you waiting for," a bossy voice drove through the hall.

Ahsoka rose wordlessly and went to work.

Here and there, a fruit disappeared from the tray, but apart from that, the young Togruta did what was asked of her.

She occasionally stumbled over her own feet because her vision was blurry, but the blows she received were not whip lashes after all.

Why did she still stumble over her feet, although she had never had a better view?

Shouldn't she have gotten used to it by now? Why did she even ask herself that.

She had nothing to ask.

If it were up to her master, she wouldn't even have a name.

Maybe it was better if she didn't have one. It was just exhausting to have to remember it.

And so she let go of the name.

At the same moment a small piece of coal was falling out of her hand.

And it was as if neither of these two things had ever existed.

Once again her name flitted through her consciousness, but this time she didn't reach for it.

Then it was forgotten. What remained was pain, emptiness and obedience.

Only interrupted by the need to help the poor children, to whom she now gave the fruits.

For whom she still fought. Proved a spark of her fire.

For whom she still remained Ahsoka.

A Jedi.