Zach
SWRP Writer
- Joined
- Nov 19, 2010
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Several years ago...
Alice stumbled through the ally, lost and confused. She tried to remember what had happened. The blood, the screaming, the panic, it was all so chaotic. She could barely remember what happened. She knew there were bodies. Four of them. She remembered that it was because of her that there lie still now. She remembered that she'd beaten three grown men to death and strangled the fourth with her broken shackles, just a little girl. She remembered the panic and the fear that she felt when she knew they were going to sell her into the slave trade... And she remembered the fury... The absolute rage and anger she felt towards those men when she broke her hands free from the iron shackles and grabbed a rifle with an illegal-looking extension to the barrel and shoved it into the nearest man's eye. When she'd lunged at the man and gouged her thumb into his other and punched a hole through his neck.
Her memory flashed back and forth between the cargo hold of the smuggler ship and the dark ally she wandered through in the rain. The brownish walls of the cramped room, boxes and weapon racks surrounding her. One man already dead beneath her shaking body, two more watching in horror as another stood in the doorway, his vision blocked by the others. She lunged from the man's bleeding corpse and punched him in the gut, making him buckle over and crumble to the floor. When she kneed him in the stomach as he fell, she put her arm around his neck and squeezed tight, hearing a loud crack and throwing his body into the stack of boxes. Reaching back to the rifle, she pulled it out of the man's eye socket and threw it into the man who stood in the doorway and caused him to fall, kicking out at the nearest smuggler's knee and shattering it at the same time.
She flashed back to the ally way and collapsed, shaking and crying. She couldn't get those faces out of her head, the shackles still dangling from her wrists, now chafing the smooth tender skin. She clutched either side of her head and screamed, remembering how she'd beaten the third man to death with only her fists and wrapped the longest broken end of her shackles around the last man's neck. She felt the twitch of his body as he struggled for breath and stopped completely.
When she'd run from the scene, she didn't know where she was, what city she was in, or even what planet. She just wanted to run. Run from the ship, run from the slavers, run from the corpses that haunted her thoughts. When she'd collapsed in the ally, she hadn't noticed that a hooded figure stood only ten yards away. When Alice looked up into those cold pale eyes, all she knew was fear. Then acceptance. She thought it was Death, come to take her away from this torment, to take away the pain and suffering that engulfed her mind when she'd lost control of her new found strength from the Force and the mental pain that ensued.
As Death seemed to approach, she began to shake, but soon realized that the grey-eyed hooded figure was standing still. In fact, Alice found she was crawling toward her. She could now see the slender curves of a woman, and her crying had lessened to hiccups. Alice clutched the hem of the woman's cloak and opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come. Her vision began to fade, blackness surrounding the alley and woman in front of her. Soon the blackness blended with her cloak and all she could see were her eyes, those cold, grey, emotionless eyes that would haunt her for years. The eyes that would teach her everything she would ever know. She fell to the ground and released the cloak, unconscious and shivering from the cold rain.
Alice stumbled through the ally, lost and confused. She tried to remember what had happened. The blood, the screaming, the panic, it was all so chaotic. She could barely remember what happened. She knew there were bodies. Four of them. She remembered that it was because of her that there lie still now. She remembered that she'd beaten three grown men to death and strangled the fourth with her broken shackles, just a little girl. She remembered the panic and the fear that she felt when she knew they were going to sell her into the slave trade... And she remembered the fury... The absolute rage and anger she felt towards those men when she broke her hands free from the iron shackles and grabbed a rifle with an illegal-looking extension to the barrel and shoved it into the nearest man's eye. When she'd lunged at the man and gouged her thumb into his other and punched a hole through his neck.
Her memory flashed back and forth between the cargo hold of the smuggler ship and the dark ally she wandered through in the rain. The brownish walls of the cramped room, boxes and weapon racks surrounding her. One man already dead beneath her shaking body, two more watching in horror as another stood in the doorway, his vision blocked by the others. She lunged from the man's bleeding corpse and punched him in the gut, making him buckle over and crumble to the floor. When she kneed him in the stomach as he fell, she put her arm around his neck and squeezed tight, hearing a loud crack and throwing his body into the stack of boxes. Reaching back to the rifle, she pulled it out of the man's eye socket and threw it into the man who stood in the doorway and caused him to fall, kicking out at the nearest smuggler's knee and shattering it at the same time.
She flashed back to the ally way and collapsed, shaking and crying. She couldn't get those faces out of her head, the shackles still dangling from her wrists, now chafing the smooth tender skin. She clutched either side of her head and screamed, remembering how she'd beaten the third man to death with only her fists and wrapped the longest broken end of her shackles around the last man's neck. She felt the twitch of his body as he struggled for breath and stopped completely.
When she'd run from the scene, she didn't know where she was, what city she was in, or even what planet. She just wanted to run. Run from the ship, run from the slavers, run from the corpses that haunted her thoughts. When she'd collapsed in the ally, she hadn't noticed that a hooded figure stood only ten yards away. When Alice looked up into those cold pale eyes, all she knew was fear. Then acceptance. She thought it was Death, come to take her away from this torment, to take away the pain and suffering that engulfed her mind when she'd lost control of her new found strength from the Force and the mental pain that ensued.
As Death seemed to approach, she began to shake, but soon realized that the grey-eyed hooded figure was standing still. In fact, Alice found she was crawling toward her. She could now see the slender curves of a woman, and her crying had lessened to hiccups. Alice clutched the hem of the woman's cloak and opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come. Her vision began to fade, blackness surrounding the alley and woman in front of her. Soon the blackness blended with her cloak and all she could see were her eyes, those cold, grey, emotionless eyes that would haunt her for years. The eyes that would teach her everything she would ever know. She fell to the ground and released the cloak, unconscious and shivering from the cold rain.
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