Every time I think I have found a home, it turns out that I’m still alone. Viessa got hurt and is now always training and going on missions or whatever the Jedi have her doing. I miss her – I think she is the only one in the galaxy who is really my friend.
Master Sloan just sees me as a student. I did learn a lot from her, and I am grateful for that, but she exudes all of the warmth of a salamander on Hoth.
Vanessa is delightful, of course, but she is just a child. I am someone to play with, but it’s not really the same thing as a friend.
Halonan can’t look at me without shuddering thanks to his illness. I guess I can’t blame him – if you’re sick, you’re sick. But I’ve never heard of anyone else who gets sick when they see breasts. He sees Jackie’s all the time but doesn’t seem to have problems. Maybe it’s just Twi’lek breasts he can’t look at. Or maybe it’s just me. I guess it doesn’t matter, now. It IS nice not to have to wear four layers of clothes all the time to protect him, now that I’ve left.
I feel so conflicted and confused. She called me her sister, once. I thought she trusted me. She kept telling me she wanted – needed – me to watch her back. But then she told the Hutt that she only flies alone. I’m just another employee to her.
I…it hurts. More than I imagined. When I jumped from the slaver’s ship, certain that the fall would kill me, I welcomed the thought. The grave is silent, free from pain. But I didn’t die. Instead, I found myself in a world I never imagined could exist. A world that seemed to embrace me, to love me, to need me.
It turns out my instincts were correct – that world did not exist after all. It was an illusion that embraced me so I could serve it. It never loved me, and certainly never needed me. I was a nameless cog. Perhaps that’s why I was given a nickname. “Shadow.” I was so proud of it, certain it meant acceptance. Now I see that it only meant that my true name didn’t matter.
So. I have my ship, taken from pirates, paid for by the blood of the innocent lives I failed to protect. I have my lightsaber. I need to find another, at some point. I feel unbalanced without both. I have a few contacts. I have the lessons taught to me by masters of their crafts. My training may have been only to enhance their own agendas, but I am grateful all the same.
I have a ship and a galaxy to explore. It is enough.