Healing Hearts

She stood in front of the Jedi Council, shaking worse than ever before. Her left arm had no white bandage, but was naked and bleeding. She gripped the cuts tightly, but it made no difference. There was no way to hide the blood from the all knowing eyes.

She was here to hear her fate. Her sentence would be delivered here. It was her ultimate doom. She could not go out peacefully, like a Jedi would. She was no Jedi. She stood there, her arm throbbing, and tears raining down her cheeks. She felt like she had committed a horrible crime and now she stood at the mercy of a judge, who knew no such mercy.

“Sarafire Sunn?”

Her voice trembled as she shakily confirmed the question asked by a tall, stern Jedi Master.

“Sarafire, you have been charged with failure of the Jedi Training and brought shame to the Order. It is the decision of the council that you be cast out forever.”

The tears kept trailing down her flushed checks against her pale forehead. She felt lightheaded with shook and terror. She had failed and now she was gone. She was dead. She barely managed to inquire what would happen to her.

“Happen? Why haven’t you guessed? We do not let such pitiful failures of the Jedi wonder around the galaxy. No, that is not a punishment, but a reward. You will meet your doom here. Kneel and bow your worthless head.”

She held on to her arm even tighter than before, ignore the burning pain. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t die like this.

“I said kneel!”

She nearly obeyed the order out of fear from the anger in his voice. She hated to be yelled at. She hated the anger the Jedi threw at her. She hated anger itself.

“If you will not kneel, then I will make you!”

A fast, hard kick pounded into her back, causing her to fall on her knees and hands. Her pale hair draped over her head and shoulder, blocking out her vision. She found she couldn’t breathe or move.

“Prepare to die.”

The blue lightsaber was activated and held over her head. She could see the shining light through the strands of her sweaty hair. The lightsaber was swung upward and then the blow came down on her. She felt the priecing blade start to burn the skin on her neck.

“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”

Sarafire woke up to her screaming voice, crying out into the darkness of the room. Her breath was loud and came out in huge gasps. It took her several minutes to slow down her breathing and regain her mind.

It was just a dream. I’m not going away yet and they wouldn’t kill me anyhow. It was just a bad dream.

It made have been a dream, but the after effects of the dream were much worse. She was covered in a fine, smelling sweat that made her feel hot and gross. A fire of icy fear burned in her heart, slowly spreading to the rest of her soul. The darkness of the room was too dark and too frightening. She stumbled out of bed and turned the light on.

She looked around the room, but there were no monster or murders. She sighed in semi-relief. Her hand began to scratch her left arm, but to her surprise her fingers grazed against something rough and unfamiliar. It was then she remembered the bandage and the scene before she went to bed. She had retired early, not carrying if she missed the evening meal. She just wanted to forget the sin she had committed.

Sarafire knew she was wrong to yell at the Jedi Master, who possibly really did want to help her. Yet, she had her doubts about his ability to help. He could not possibly comprehend the situation she was in. She took her hand away from her arm and wiped the sweat off of her pale face.

She curled up into a small, skinny ball, wrapping her comforting, soft blanket around her body. She found her only possession, a stuffed animal, and hugged it tightly. It was strange, but she found tremendous comfort and safety in the toy. As a child she slept with it every night, whispering her greatest fears and joys. The toy did not judge her or talk back, but always listened with a smile on it’s face. She hugged it one more time, whispering the nightmare she just had.

When she found she could move without jumping, she crawled out of bed and put on a robe. She turned the light off and snuck out of her tiny room. She never slept much or well, so she had learned the art of walking around aimlessly in the halls at the wee hours of the morning. No one ever noticed her if they saw her. She guessed they had always figured she was coming or going to the restroom that students had to share.

Tonight’s wondering brought her to a new hall she knew nothing about. Despite living at the temple for most of her life, there were still areas she had not discovered either because she didn’t go there, or she wasn’t supposed to. At night, there was no one to watch her and yell at her, so Sarafire made it a project to learn all the secrets she could about the massive temple before she was expelled. There were many a peaceful places she found and liked, but this night she craved a different spot to rest her mind of the internal fears that haunted her so.

She had found a short hall containing no doors, except a single piece of art at the very end. She walked down the bare hall, looking at a painting. It was an actually painting, dating back several hundred years. Real, hand done paintings were very rare to find in the age she lived in. Most artists did holo pictures or other mediums of art. Here was a real, oil based painting with the finest detailed scene of a child crying to its mother.

Sarafire found the art intriguing. There was something about the young child in the way it’s failing arms reached for its distant, distracted mother attracted her. The child was not hurt or looked sick, but clearly it wanted attention. The mother was well dressed and busy with some activity Sarafire couldn’t fathom. She wondered why the mother was ignoring the begging child and why mothers would ignore their children.

Maybe the child is like me and is not wanted. Maybe the mother can not hear the wails of this poor kid.

“Like the child you are.”

She jumped and turned around so fast, she nearly lost her balance. She felt herself pale and began to tremble as she stood before Master Yoda. The Jedi Master looked at her from head to toe and started to chuckle to himself.

“You look like a ghost. Pale and wavering. No need to fear me you do.”

Sarafire was not convinced. She was sure she was about to sent to bed with a stern warning.

“I-I’m sorry - I’ll go back to bed!”

The green Jedi held out his hand to stop her from scurrying off.

“Stay. I cannot sleep either.”

She wondered briefly why he couldn’t sleep, but the painting caught her eye again. She noticed the master was admiring the painting again. She decided to draw up some of her remaining nerves and do the right thing.

“Master Yoda, I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier. I didn’t mean to be so rude.”

She slightly bowed her head to her chest to show her sincerity.

“That’s OK. Angry you were and needed to vent your anger you did. But help you still need and help you I will.”

“I don’t think you can help me.”

She had said it softly, scared to admit the sad truth. The master studied the painting in silence for some time. She wondered if he had not heard her and if she should repeat herself.

“Why do you think the child cries?”

She looked at Master Yoda and then at the painting.

“I think the child wants to be loved and the mother isn’t very loving.”

“Very good. And why does the mother not love her child?”

She paused for a moment to think and phrase her answer carefully.

“The mother didn’t seem to care if her child is crying. She doesn’t want to take care of the child and doesn’t see the child needs her. She seems to be too preoccupied with something.”

“Yes. Do you know the author?”

She shook her head.

“The child the author is. Ignored and abused the child was, growing up to be bitter and hateful for the world. Took his life he did and only then did the mother notice him. If only the mother took time to care for him, would he lived in happiness and peace. A sad fate for anyone.”

Sarafire remained silent, staring at the painting. The painting made perfect sense to her. She could understand the exact pain and fear of the child. She found herself yawning into her hand.

“Time for sleep for both of us it is. Come, I will take you to your room.”

She quietly followed the Jedi Master back to her room, growing more sleep as she step she took. When he opened the door for her, she found her eyes drooping with sleep. She shuffled to her bed and climbed into her warm covers.

“Good night Sarafire.”

For the rest of the night she did not dream in fear or pain, but in blissful peace.