Healing Hearts

Sarafire spent the rest of the day in a great emotional turmoil. She was horribly mortified that the Grand Master of the Jedi Order had discovered her shameful secret. She humbly apologized to an angry math teacher, wilting under the teacher’s glare, wishing she could explain herself, but somehow she did not think the teacher would buy her excuse of being dragged away by the might and awe inspiring Master Yoda. Few students were ever invited in by the master himself and she did not think she was the type of person who deserved such a privilege.

She was still very much convinced the master was working on getting her a ship that would flee her sorry soul out into the huge galaxy, far away from the noble minds of the Jedi. Sarafire blamed herself for this, knowing all too well she brought it upon herself. Once again her downfall was her clumsiness. If she had just been more careful of her sleeves, she would not be in this nerve wreaking position.

It was strange to say that she was sorry to go when she knew this would be for the best. Despite all the nightmares, hours upon hours of crying, pain and suffering she endured for so many years, she was attached to the people and the building she called home. It was hard to imagine herself elsewhere, not studying to become a Jedi. She tried so hard to imagine just for a second herself as an actually Jedi Knight, but that picture was even more ellusive.

“Sarafire! Pay attention and answer my question!”

Startled, she awoke from her daydreams and looked around the last class of the day, trying to understand what had happened. There was no concentration to be found when one knew one was about to be expelled. Luckily for her, she read ahead in the class and through Jedi listening exercises, she was able to recall the question about some distant planet and gave the correct question. The teacher squinted his eyes at her in deep suspicion and then made a journey to spy on what Sarafire was doing. Sarafire looked down and saw that she had been absent minded doodling on the notes that had been passed around.

“And I suppose you got the answer from your silly drawings?”

Sarafire blushed deeply, all too aware of the snickers the other kids made. The teacher gave her one last look of reproach and went back to the lesson. Sarafire tried to refrain from daydreaming about her future again, but the task was a hard one.

Finally the ever long day ended and she was able to rush to her room, the only safe place she knew no one would tease, glare, or yell at her for another error. She dumped her bag on the floor, not caring in the slightest the mess she made. Her room was a nightmare with clothes, some clean, flung all over. Her bed was unmade, and stacks of papers were everywhere. She saw no use in cleaning. No one ever went into her room so no one cared about her lifestyle.

She turned off the lights and grabbed the razor she kept hidden in a tiny lock box from underneath her bed. She found a strange peace in staring at the shiny, sharp blade. Here in her hands was the key to her sanity and holder of her pain. The day had been too much for her with the tears, fear, and anger at herself. She had been dying to get to her room, but the classes would not end. She was tempted to skip a class to cut, but she knew it would arouse unwanted attention.

She felt the bitter sweet pain slice through her arm, travelling up her brain and flowing back down. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she felt her emotions fade away. The pain in her arm made the pain in her soul go numb for a time, bringing her a kind of peace and relief. Her mind went blank as she focused on the physical pain, wishing she could stay this way forever. Minutes later, her nerves calmed down and the pain stopped. A frown of disappointment formed on her lips. The trouble with cutting was one cut never seemed to be enough, but she was scared to do it a second time in one session.

She looked down at her scarred arm that was now had a thin line of blood slowly dripping down her pale skin. Blood fascinated her. It was like the Force, only better. It was always there, in her, flowing and giving life. She could let it out when she wanted to, or hold it in, letting her body produce more.

It was then when the depression and self pity came in. As long as the pain in her arm kept up, she felt fine, but afterwards she felt worse. The shame in herself grew. She knew this was wrong, but she couldn’t help herself. She knew she was weak to do this. There were other ways of managing her pain, but this seemed to be the easiest. Worse, some tiny voice told her she couldn’t stop harming herself even if she wanted to.

Fear built up in her heart; bring an uncomfortable lump in her throat. She reached for the razor again. She wanted that smoothing feeling again so bad she was willing to break her own rule. The blade rested lightly on her skin. She started applying pressure to the tip of the metal when there was a loud knock on her door.

Sarafire jumped and dropped the razor in surprise. No one ever knocked on her door. She was so upset, she could only stutter out a question.

“Who-Who is it?”

“Me”

She had no idea who me was, but she raised to her feet, completely forgetting about the blade that laid out on the floor for all to see. She walked over to the door and opened it. At first she saw no one until she looked down and saw Master Yoda. She took a step back, nearly gaping at him.

“Hello young one. Cutting again I see. Very disappointed I am.”

She looked at her arm, seeing the blood seep through her white sleeve. She turned pink and hid the arm behind her back.

“May I come in?”

She nodded silently, not trusting her voice at that moment. The Jedi Master walked through her cluttered floor without a comment and sat on her bed. She looked at the floor, near his feet, unable to look actually at him. She could not confront the sin she had committed.

“Fetch a bowl of water, a sponge, and a bandage you will and bring them to me.”

Sarafire’s eyes darted at him and then quickly resumed their downward caste. She did not waste time with questions or reactions, but searched around the room until she found a piece of cloth that would do as a sponge and a long white bandage she had from a sprained ankle. A bowl was not hard to find and she poured water from a bottle into the bowl. She presented her finds to the little green Jedi who instructed her to put them on the bed.

“Give me your arm.”

She hesitantly reached her arm out his hands. Her sleeve was rolled up past her elbow. The master dipped the cloth into the water and washed away the blood. The rough material of the cloth rubbed against her tender arm, causing her to involuntarily hiss in pain. She started to jerk her arm back, but Master Yoda held on tight to her wrist.

“If pain you want, then pain you will get.”

She made herself breathe and relax enough to respond to him.

“But I don’t want this pain.”

“Then why cut?”

The cloth was rubbed against her skin again without much care.

“Ouch! Stop that, you’re hurting me!”

The cloth was put into the water, tainting the clear liquid with her bright blood.

“Why? You hurt yourself. What difference it is if it is me?”

“Because I chose to.”

“Ah, getting somewhere, we are. Why chose pain?”

The cloth was applied more gently, wiping away the rest of the blood. Master Yoda retired the cloth in the water and then reached for the bandage.

“It makes me feel better. It makes reminds me I’m alive.”

“But alive you are.”

“Maybe.”

The cloth was held to her wrist and rolled around and around up her forearm.

“Why do you doubt?”

“Because I can’t feel anything. I can’t feel the Force, or happiness, or anything. I feel so dead! Sometimes I tried to hold my breath just to see what it’s like to be passed out.”

The cloth was tucked in at the start of her elbow. Her whole forearm was now bandaged so she could not cut anymore.

“I’m so numb.”

“Numb? Hardly. In much pain you are. Scared and angry. Too much emotion to be numb.”

She took her arm away from his hands and cradled it to her chest. She didn’t know what to say or how to explain herself to him. The master put hand on her leg. She jumped off the bed as if he had electrified her.

“I’m numb ok? I can’t feel anything anymore. Please stop trying to tell me otherwise.”

She ended her sentence with a sad note. She was sick of hearing him talk. She just wanted to be alone.

“Need help you do. Let me to help you.”

Tears had been forming in her eyes before he said that. Suddenly her mood swung around and she found herself enraged.

“I don’t need your help. You can’t help me. No one can! I just want to be left alone.”

The master sat on her bed, staring at her like a parent watching a child throw a fit. Sarafire found it annoying and made her even angrier.

“Get out! Get out now! Get out of my room!”

Master Yoda slowly got off the bed and walked over to the door. He opened it and walked out, only to look back once at the angry form of the young girl.

“Come to me anytime, young one. Know my door is always open.”

With that, the grand Jedi Master walked away, leaving Sarafire all the more upset and confused.