Binary Sunset | SW Oneshots

Throw It Away

Based off of 'Emo Song' and 'Charlie Brown', both by beabadoobee

TW/CW: Self-harm, blood/blood loss (sort of) 

Sorry it's so short 

--

 Ahsoka sat in her room, staring off into the darkness with wide eyes.

Every so often, she'd softly mutter something to herself - or were those words to the tool in her hand? She couldn't be certain; She could hardly even tell if the words were actually leaving her lips. She'd lost track of time, and at this point she could barely feel the bed she sat on. Her thoughts were sluggish and tedious, so she'd given up on thinking. Nothing seemed to ease right now, nothing seemed to exist - she seemed to bounce above it all. 

She wondered if this counted as meditating.

She couldn't tell what part of her was real. She couldn't tell what part of her was authentic or what part of her was a myth that had been built around and in her. She couldn't tell whether she was fooling herself or distracting herself from the stories she'd internalized; Whether she was fooling herself to believe that she was meant to feel, or distracting herself from the pounding headache that lead her to mutter the words "it's all your fault" over and over again. So, she'd stopped trying to tell. She'd stopped trying to think, to figure things out. She told herself she didn't need to. 

She tried to look down at her wrist and see what she'd done to herself. She couldn't see anything in the dark, but she knew she'd done some damage. Her whole arm throbbed and burned and she felt dizzy, like if she stood up she'd immediately collapse. Something dripped onto her thigh, and she felt like she could die. The fact that she'd missed this feeling spoke for itself. 

She flitted the tool between her fingers mindlessly and looked back up into the darkness. The less she could see, the less she could think, the less she could feel, the better. And she almost brought the blade to her skin again. At least, she thought about it, before she was stopped by a faint voice in the back of her mind. The Force screaming at her: Throw it away.

At this point, she'd thought the Force had abandoned her. But its presence was overwhelming. It gently reminded her that she wasn't alone, that she was one with the Force and the Force was with her always. 

She was mad at herself for losing faith in the Force even momentarily, but the voices of the universe told her she didn't need forgiveness. 

And so, the blade fell from her hand and clattered to the floor. The feeling of the weight falling from her fingers was more satisfying than any jagged cut she could carve on her limbs.

Then, she passed out.