The New Girl from Earth - REWRITE (a Star Wars Rebel story)

Prologue

Author's note:

Hi everyone! I got too much time on my hand during lockdown so I decided to rewrite some stories I wrote a while ago. With a lot more education and experience under my belt, I hope this time around will be a lot better. (I already posted this on my Fanfiction.net account under the same name).

Obviously, I don't own Star Wars, but I do own my ideas.

My biggest warnings for the reader is that there's mild swearing and some violence. Nothing too big.

Thank you!

***

Darkness oftentimes gets too much of a bad wrap at face value. All of it is derived from our deepest fears, nothing more. The fears of the unknown - what lurks within the shadows. Most, if not almost everyone, harbors some sort of fear towards the dark. It fills them with dread. Fear. Hopelessness. Darkness is not just seen, it is felt. It is felt deep within the soul. Deep within the bones that fill your body. Yes, yes there are thousands of quotes about how "there can't be any light without the dark" and whatnot. I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the darkness that lurks around you, inside you. That feeling of unease and grimness. It covers you like a blanket.

But for some, that blanket is their only source of warmth during those dreadfully cold and lonely nights. It's their only constant. It's the only thing that was there for them from the beginning. A blanket of shadows.

A lone child sits under that blanket of darkness every night and every morning, no one to tuck her in at night but herself. Nothing but that blanket of shadows to wipe away her tears. She gazes upon the glittering lights beyond the veil of smog under an especially heavy blanket tonight. There were no stars out tonight, just the neon lights of billboards and the headlights on the masses of cars racing down the highways. So many people. So much energy.

So, she sat there with a smile tonight. A smile, though small and not all that giddy, sat upon her lips. It wasn't enough for any passing stranger to pay much attention to. But that was okay. She didn't want their attention. She was happy for herself. Alone on that park bench, that girl watched the city she was broken and torn apart in pass her by. Though, she didn't feel all that broken anymore. It was understandable. She was getting her life together. Though still just a child, she had seen and felt more pain than anyone would ever want to bear. She had developed bad habits, done bad things, and was feeling like a bad person. She got help. Some good people helped her for once. She quit her bad habits and started going to school, now planning to graduate and make something of herself for the first time in her life. Maybe she would become a doctor, a police officer, a pilot, a computer scientist. Anything! The sky wasn't the limit, and neither were the stars.

She looks at the time and knows to go back to whatever house she was staying at for the time. Whatever family decided to open their doors to her - maybe or maybe not so much their hearts. But, so was the life of a foster child.

The girl goes back to the address she memorized for this month and let the angry shouts of her foster mother roll off her back. It was funny to her, really. This woman thought that something could happen to that girl on those streets that she hasn't already been through. She gives a "Yes ma'am. It won't happen again" and goes to bed, covering herself in that blanket of shadows once again, feeling comfort in its presence.

She goes to school the next day in that old school uniform she dug out of the lost-and-found bin. The blue dress shirt one size too big and her pants a little short around the ankles. The girl prayed this new middle school would give her slack about her shoes - the muddy and frayed old Converse she had worn for years. They weren't appropriate for their school uniform, but they were all she had for now. One teacher did mention it, the girl assuring she'll get some dress shoes soon enough.

The kids weren't all that bad about pointing out her discombobulated clothing, thankfully. In Cleveland, Ohio, plenty of kids understood the struggle of plunging their head into a local lost-and-found bin in hopes of finding a semi-fitting piece of their school uniform. By the end of the day, the girl was lucky enough to find a kid who had too big of pants and traded with her, both getting a slightly better fit in the end. Shoes, she would have to worry about later.

Though most kids in Cleveland knew and understood each other's struggles, there was always some kind of fight going down between someone over something. It happens. When you get too many kids that are angry about the world packed into a building where they are forced to sit still, kids get angrier. They lash out at each other. This girl in particular knew that all too well. She used to be extremely violent, taking out all that pent up rage onto some poor soul in the school halls or cafeteria. It's how she got sucked into a fighting ring for the longest time years ago. She finally got out, let her bruises heal, her knuckles rest, and turned the other cheek now at this new school...as much as she could.

She'll never forget the day she ruined everything she had been working for. All that progress she had made in life. The life she had made for herself on Earth. Shattered. Another girl yanked her hair in the cafeteria, called her a bitch, and spat on her. She couldn't take it. The girl felt that blanket of darkness morph into a shield of daggers, stabbing venom into her skin and adrenaline into her heart. The hair-yanking girl flew across the cafeteria. Blood was everywhere. Everyone was quiet.

The girl froze once she saw that the other girl wasn't moving. She just sat there, covered in blood. At the time, she hadn't processed the fact that the girl was thrown across the cafeteria further than humanly possible. She didn't realize that it wasn't just her adrenaline and her own strength that threw the girl. All she knew was that she messed up. She ran. She took her bookbag and sprinted out of her school and down the streets of Cleveland, not stopping for what seemed forever.

Feet pounding on the pavement. Heart racing in her chest. She couldn't stop. She didn't know much, but she definitely knew how to do two things. To fight and to take flight. Those were the two things that kept her alive all these years. She never had anything else. She had herself and that blanket of darkness she wore like a cape now.

The world's darkness helped her that night as she crept through the house she had slept in the night before. She dumped her schoolbooks out of her bag, knowing she'd never need them again. She went to the room she had been given and got what few possessions she owned, what little money she had, and a couple of shirts and pants - changing out of that stupid school uniform and leaving it behind. A black hoodie covered her torso and head, merging her deeper into the night. She prowled the rest of the house, careful not to wake her foster siblings or foster parents. The girl took a knife, a lighter, some money from her foster parent's wallets, and some granola bars. She stopped for a moment to stare at a little red and white box. It was a bad habit, but it was the only relaxation she could get sometimes. She picked up the box and shoved it into her bag- figuring that she already threw away all of her progress anyhow, so what damage could these cigarettes do that she hasn't already done? The girl crept into the garage, scanning the room for anything else she could use to her advantage as she quietly closed the door behind her.

A plastic toy scraped against the ground the moment her foot scuffed over it. She picked up the plastic water pistol, a bright blue, and turned it in her hands. She pondered for a moment, wondering how she could use this little toy to her advantage. With a quick spray of black paint, the girl had a tool that would prove invaluable. She snuck off into the night, that blanket of shadows following her every step.