⚠️ TW: not super bad, but just in case (violence and some sensitive topics are alluded to)

(If you don't want to read it, then just comment or pm me and i can tell you what happens, or i can post it at the beginning of the next chapter — just let me know)

A tingling. A pang like an alarm bell going off was what caused Ahsoka to slip away from her resting conscience, only to be received with pitch black darkness and disorientation.

Somethings wrong.

But what? And then, in her only semi-conscience state, she felt it.

Something cold sliding against bare skin and she jerked awake in a panic.

What?

She shivered, her skin tingling. It was cold. Where was her cloak?

She tried to sit up from where she had been laying in the corner, but something stopped her, roughly forcing her back down.

Warm breath wet the back of her montrals and Ahsoka realized that the cold thing on her waist was a hand.

Her stomach sinking in a panic, her heart beating a million klicks a minute, she attempted to wretch herself away from whoever was behind her.

A cold, sweaty hand clamped over her mouth as she struggled away in a confused and chaotic nature, her eyes wide in fear and panic, only to be yanked back down again, the cold hand under her shirt seemingly burning her skin the harder it gripped, contrary to its frigid touch.

Her instincts from being battle-ready seemed to be forgotten as the panic and dreariness from just awakening seemingly fought against them in her mind, and it was too late to realize that whoever was behind her was not the only person in the dark room.

What really let her know was the malicious, drunken laughter, and firm, hard hands grabbing her arms just as she finally managed to wrestle herself away from the previous assailant.

What is going on?

It was too dark to see, and the cold, harsh panic was too inundating, suffocating her other senses, taking away the oxygen from her lungs, as if a vacuum had been created, drawing the precious element out, making her light headed.

Her short, quick, panicked gasps were drowned out by slurred speech and drunken laughter, and her limbs felt stiff and numb, as if pins and needles were creating a barrier between her and the corporal world, preventing her from taking action, freezing her in place.

All she knew was hot breath, sweaty, but firm, hands, and the slurring laughter breaking through the ringing in her montrals.

Calm down, Ahsoka.

She forced her panic down, as if swallowing a hard rock, creating an unpleasant lump in her throat, and in turn let the Force flow over her like a comforting blanket.

The familiar feeling warmed her chest, dissolving a block of ice she hadn't even known was weighing her down until it was alleviated.

It calmed her mind, setting the world in slow motion, but only for Ahsoka.

She took a deep breath as the commotion around her became clearer, her senses more perceptive, and she focused on her calming conscience.

Use your instincts, Snips. Focus.

Anakin Skywalkers voice seemed to whisper to her, cutting through the waves of panic and disorientation, and for once, she decided to listen to it without a snippy comment in response.

The rapid rise and fall of her chest slowed, and she breathed in the sour smell of the room, trying to ignore the tangy scent of sweat as oxygen filled her lungs once again.

Focus.

There were four people in the room.

Men, most likely, and two of them were gripping her biceps, pinning her against the rough wall in between two storage units.

Although she couldn't see much, nor knew exactly what was happening, she felt relatively calmer now that she had her mind back under control.

Ahsoka let her fear and panic drain out of her like she had watched the crimson puddle swirl down the drain just hours before.

Not today, sleemo. She thought in response to the sick laughter and straying hands.

She jerked her head away from the rough hand that had cupped her face. She couldn't do much in her position about the proximity of the other hands to her body, but she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of submission.

She grit her teeth. Ahsoka was back in her element now — a good old fight.

....

It was fast — too fast, really, for any of the beings in their drunken states to really understand what happened next.

One moment, the tall human had one hand on her chest, pressing her up against the wall, his other hand under her chin, forcing her face up to him.

The next moment, he was being slammed against the shelves behind him, the wind knocked out of him from what he later assumed was a kick — a kick much too powerful to have come from a small girl like the one that had just been asleep.

Two more sickening cracks and grunts of pain filled the air as Ahsoka managed to flip up, using her restrained arms as leverage to slam the two other males holding her head first into each other.

She sprung off one of the shelves that had been in the trajectory of her flip, and twisted in mid-air, landing softly in a crouch, facing the recovering human.

She didn't let the landing of her acrobatics go to waste, and in turn used her crouched position as a point of attack, sweeping the legs of the human, and gracefully straightening up, ready for whatever came next.

She couldn't tell what species the other beings in the room were yet, but a large human-like sentient lunged for her again, his drunken laughter long forgotten as she ducked under him, using his momentum against him as she sent a powerful kick into his turned back, sending him crashing painfully into a shelf.

One down, three to go. She thought to herself as what she assumed was a large Devaronian, his horns creating a darker silhouette above his head, tried to sneak up on her from behind.

A whistle in her ears and a slight disturbance in the stagnant air was all that preceded the sickening sound of skin on skin, as the rough knuckles of what she guessed was another human made contact with her face.

She gasped in pain, but didn't give herself anymore time to register it. She had forgotten about the fourth person as she was focusing on the Devaronian, and she had payed the price.

She caught his next fist with a steady hand, ignoring the throbbing of her face.

She twisted, slipping under his arm and turning her back to him, forcing his arm down at an unnatural angle as she gave a sharp elbow to his stomach and flipped him to the floor with a satisfying smack.

She crouched low as she spun again, anticipating the high kick of what appeared to be a male Twi'lek.

Following through on her spin, she outstretched her leg, catching the already off-balance Twi'lek by surprise as she swept his base leg out from under him.

Another loud thud, along with a grunt was all that followed.

She didn't get much time to admire her work, though, because she soon found herself engaged in quick back and forth brawl-type combat with the sneaky Devaronian, as another one of the beings took up her blind side, trying to catch her by surprise.

The Devaronians blows were powerful and erratic, but lacked the discipline a seasoned fighter like Ahsoka would have.

As she blocked and counter attacked the two fighters, the human from earlier, now recovered, decided it was time for him to join the fight — the Twi'lek was still down, hugging his awkwardly bent knee.

Great. She thought pessimistically. Three on one. Fun.

She knew if Anakin were here, he would make it into some kind of a game — lessen the stress and alleviate some of the crushing panic of reality. Unfortunately, it wasn't, and so she closed her mind to any distractions, trying to center herself in the fight.

She blocked and moved and dodged and countered, spinning and flipping and twirling as if in a graceful dance that only she knew the steps too.

Despite her superior fighting style, she knew she definitely held the disadvantage. Besides being outnumbered, her usual choice of combat involved an abundance of acrobatics, which was not the optimal style for the cramped room.

Her graceful and acrobatic style usually helped her keep the advantage against opponents who were bigger or stronger than she was, and now that her scope of expertise was limited, she was lacking the raw strength and weight to simply overpower her opponents.

Though despite her dwarfed size compared to her adversaries, she was holding her own.

Using the knee of the human as a mount, she jumped up, flipping backwards until she landed on the back of the large Devaronian, catching him in a headlock and wrapping her legs around his torso to secure herself.

Using all her strength, she pulled her forearm closer to herself, choking the male.

He gasped and sputtered, flailing and stumbling as he tried to shake her off.

The other two males didn't seem to know what to do, and they stopped approaching her, hedging away with indecision.

The Devaronian slammed his back against a shelf, dislodging Ahsoka, who let out a strangled cry as her lekku and back were crushed into hard durasteel.

He grabbed her arm, flinging her over his shoulder, attempting to throw her into a wall or the ground.

Ahsoka used the momentum like a slingshot, controlling her body in mid-air, and placing a well-aimed kick into the chest of the Twi'lek, sending him crashing back down to the floor he had just risen from.

She rolled out of the move, landing back on her feet in time to deliver powerful roundhouse kick to the face of the other being she assumed was a human.

A grunt echoed through the air, and Ahsoka found herself being slammed into the ground in a tackle, a heavy weight pinning her down.

her head slammed back against the cold, hard ground, and she fought through the stars that clouded her vision and the ringing in her montrals that muted the rest of the world.

You are not going to pass out right now, Ahsoka.

You can't.

She blinked, trying to shake away the stun and unfreeze herself. Luckily, from her years on the battlefield of getting hit harder than she would like to, she knew how to recover quickly.

Her ribs screamed in pain, not only from the previous tackle, but also from the feeling of something heavy hitting them.

She grit her teeth and blocked the fist of the human weighing her down from striking her torso again.

Her legs were pinned under his weight, but her hands were free because of the awkward position that he had tackled her in.

She twisted his wrist, earning a shout of pain from the human pinning her down.

Ahsoka squirmed, struggling underneath the uncomfortable weight of the human as he trapped her under him, sitting on her hips and rendering her legs useless to her at the moment.

She brought her arm up in front of her face, using her forearm to block the angered punch from the human that he had thrown at her head, but she wasn't so lucky the next time.

Suddenly, all Ashoka knew was black.

...

No.

Not happening.

Despite the alluring temptation of giving up, succumbing to the numbing, innocence of darkness that was clouding her vision, hindering her capability of functioning, Ahsoka fought it.

She snapped her eyes open with a strangled gasp, her vision coming back into painful semi-focus.

Through her hazy vision and the dull lighting, Ahsoka peered up, dazed, into the shadow covered features of the human still on top of her, straddling her hips and weighing her down.

She must not have been out very long, as the floor beneath her was still ice cold, drawing away her body heat like the vacuum of an open airlock to a ship.

Everything was muted. Her head felt as though it was stuffed with cotton, and it reminded her of the time a shell had gone off too close to her position, and she had been hard of hearing for hours afterward.

She felt a scary numbness that came with being frozen and slow, like she didn't have full control of her body, but she was conscience enough to feel the panic and fear and pain that was rendering her useless to any prompt to action.

She felt a burning in her lekku that was a completely separate feeling from the bruising that was no doubt present, and it took her a minute to process why.

She shivered at the unwelcome touch of another, and her lekku seemed to scream in silent protest at the breach of respect.

Clammy hands and warm, shallow breath made Ahsoka want to back up in revulsion — though that wasn't exactly an option, as she was pressed against the floor. All she knew at that moment, in her clouded, almost-delirious state, was that she wanted whatever or whoever was touching her lekku and the rest of her to go.

Her mind seemed to register that in order to get out of the situation, she would need to move.

She blinked, still slightly disoriented, but the beseeching numbness started to ebb away, and Ahsoka started moving.

She squirmed and struggled, her teeth gritted as her vision began to clear and she glared up with a new determination into the shadowed features of a human.

Something seemed familiar about him, though. And then the decorated piercings of the man caught the dim light of the hallway outside the room, glinting, and Ahsoka remembered where she had seen him before.

This was the bartender.

Ahsoka finally woke her frozen muscles up, slapping his wandering hands away from her body, and wrenching his poisonous caress away from her throbbing lekku.

She used both of her hands to grip his arm: one on the outside by his elbow, and the other on the inside, closer to the armpit.

She used all of her strength to whip him sideways off of her body, using his arm as a base.

His weight shifted just enough for Ahsoka to free her legs, using them as extra leverage as she pushed him off of her and rolled backwards, using her hands and her momentum to spring up to her feet, despite the dizzying protests of the rest of her body.

The world was still in a state of dissociated absence to Ahsoka, and the throbbing of the blood rushing to her head from her sudden movement brought the clarity of sound in and out of focus.

She shook her head to try and clear it (which she found did nothing to help), and set herself, ready for whatever happened next.

Set your feet, Snips. A wider base is always an advantage when you're fighting someone who's bigger than you.

She widened her base, setting her feet the way Anakin had drilled into her head through countless training exercises and reprimands.

Ahsoka wasn't sure why they were still attacking her — she assumed it came with the territory of being in the lower levels — but she wasn't naive enough to doubt what they were really after. Maybe they were just mad because they hadn't got what they wanted.

Now that she was able to think a little more clearly, she guessed that the reason they hadn't given up at the first sign of opposition was because they felt they could overpower her.

Though now she guessed they were fighting for their reputations instead of their lust.

She glared, her face set in determination as she delivered a well-aimed kick to the head of the other human, causing him to spin to the ground where he didn't get up again.

She didn't wait to see him fall, though, because by then she was preoccupied with the Devaronian and the Twi'lek trying to get to her.

Her elbow found its way into the Devaronians nose, and he stumbled back with an enraged cry. Ahsokas fluid movements were halted by a strong hand grasping the wrist that had just been about to fly forward in a punch toward the groaning Devaronian.

Ahsoka turned, her frustration flaring, though she suppressed it. She twisted her wrist, bringing her other arm down in a slash to break the hold of the Twi'lek, before bring her knee up to the face of the male as the momentum of her counterattack brought his head forward.

A sickening crack filled the air, and Ahsoka let her knee back down, now bringing her elbow down on the back of the Twi'lek, a thud resounding through the room as he joined the other human in a state of unconsciousness.

Adrenaline filled Ahsokas bloodstream, her lungs, everything, until there was nothing left to feel but conscience dissociation as she ducked the Devaronians fist, the air brushing her montrals and causing chills to spread over her body from the close call.

She was backed up against the wall again, but she now only had two attackers to worry about instead of four, though the human seemed to be out of the picture for the moment.

The human was across the room, blocking the doorway, and creating an ominous shadow across the cold, durasteel floor as the flickering light of the hallway bled into the shadows of the room.

Ahsoka used the last of her strength to shove the Devaronian off of her, and concluded her efforts with a powerful kick to his chest that sent him careening into the wall next to a shelf.

Ahsoka took a breath, trying to control her panting. And then she felt it.

A warm feeling, a tingling. A humming. A song. A sweet, relieving melody of peace. A refreshing reminiscence washing over her, filling a hole she hadn't even known was there. She felt complete, but not in a physical sense. Not in a mental sense, either, but on a metaphysical, unknown, indescribable plane of existence that gave the nostalgic essence of wise familiarity.

Like a wall disappearing and a dome of iridescent paramountcy being revealed.

Like the clouds clearing to reveal the depth of the stars — unknown, but also familiar.

Like the comfort of an old friend.

Ahsoka thrust her hand outward, listening to the thrumming alertness inside of her, allowing herself to succumb to the flowing river prompting her actions.

The shelf next to Devaronian came crashing to the ground from the slight movement of her fingers, crushing the Devaronian, as though listening to her through something she couldn't see — only feel.

The Force.

It was like playing an instrument — one that has been groomed and practiced to perfection where it almost seems like an extension of the person.

A mutual understanding and compassion leading to agreement and atonement.

She felt at peace.

Like a reassuring hand had been placed on her shoulder, steadying her, convincing her that her actions were justifiable and correct.

And she didn't feel so lost anymore.

After all, she would never truly be alone.

The Force was with her.

She turned, her vision as clear as though it was midday and the sun was shining down. Her hearing crisp, as though everything was whispering directly into her montrals.

She met the wide eyes of the human, his features twisted in hate, lust, and surprise, yet he still did not move from his position in front of the door.

Alright then. Ahsoka thought, her snippy attitude returning by the second. I guess I'll just have to move you myself, sleemo.

Her hand, as if on its own accord, stretched out.

She felt the tug of familiarity, and the soft hum of a sweet, intimate song flowing like a river through her metaphysical being.

It was as simple as manipulating the intangible strings of a transcendental mandolin.

The human grunted in shock as he was slammed against the wall, almost as if a magnet had pulled him there.

Ahsoka steadily moved toward him, her hand still outstretched.

Her emotions were swirling.

As she approached her attacker, her sense of peace and serenity and wholeness began to leak away, as though her emotions were creating cracks in the dam of control that had bridled the Force in that moment.

She so badly wanted to close her fist, choke the air out of his lungs like he had just done to her.

But she didn't.

It wasn't because she was afraid to.

No, she wasn't afraid of killing him.

But she was afraid of killing him for the wrong reasons.

Her dam began to seal, the unbridled rage and negative emotion being vacuumed up by her active conscience, held at bay by her will power.

She knew she could do it, and that was enough for her. The temptation was merely an illusion of power she knew she didn't need to prove.

She knew she had the power over him, and although she wanted him to know it too, she refused the tingling spike of anger and hatred ebbing into the edges of her conscience, bleeding into her morality behind the teachings she had grown up with.

She was no longer a Jedi, true, but she wasn't about to view all the morals and ideals they held in the absoluteness of a sith.

She had felt the true allure of darkness only once before, and then she hadn't had a choice.

The whispers of the Son would not reach her ears today, and instead she would regain her own conscience through the ebb and flow of the cosmic Force filling her like helium in a balloon, lifting her above the hate and desperation of a backwards justice that did not recount the means of an unbridled action.

Ahsokas footsteps echoed through the room as she walked slowly across the metal floor, her hand still outstretched, and her fingers itching to close.

But she refused.

She didn't need to kill him to prove her point, and she didn't want the influence of her hate and fear and pain to be the provocation.

This time, it was Ahsokas warm breath that wet the face of the human.

"Don't you ever come near me again."

She hissed into his ear, pressing him closer to the wall with the Force, like a piston to the engine of a ship, forcing down the air.

"Ever."

She stepped away slowly, boring her eyes through his conscience, her face darkly set in a look that promised nothing but regret for whoever crossed her.

And then she released him, letting him fall to the floor, but she did not move from her spot.

She stared down into the eyes of the man, now kneeling as he recovered his wind, and saw nothing but panic and hate.

She stared back, in a challenge of her own, until his eyes clouded over in a submission of fear and he cowered away, looking down.

Ahsoka turned. She felt no satisfaction in his fear — that wasn't her goal.

She did not want him to fear her.

She just wanted him to understand that she did not fear him.

She exited the room with her chin up and posture straight, not bothering to be weary of the large male staring carefully at her back as she walked away.

...

Calm down, Ahsoka. Get a grip, you're fine.

Then why was she shaking?

Get it together.

Ahsoka exhaled a shuddering breath that rattled her chest and left her gasping as the air seemed to be forced out of her lungs.

She closed her eyes briefly before opening them again, slowly bringing her gaze up to meet her own eyes as she stared into the dingy mirror.

Her hands gripped the sides of the cold, stone basin as the steam from the running water filled the room, fogging up the already unclear glass.

Her fingers clenched, her nails scraping painfully against the hard sides of the sanitizer as she struggled to breathe.

Cmon, Ahsoka.

She closed her eyes again, and bit down hard on her lower lip until she felt the fluid essence of blood drip down her chin and mix into the smooth, clear water of the basin, swirling around before disappearing down the drain.

You're okay.

She repeated it in her head, but she didn't believe it.

They were just empty words to pacify a void.

An void that was growing with every strangled breath she took hunched over the sanitizer of the small refresher in which she had locked herself mere moments after exiting the storage room.

It was like putting a strip of fabric over a blaster wound.

Like the meaningless mantras of which she had devoted her life to until their importance had ceased to exist in her life.

Nothing even happened. She told herself, willing her sub-conscience to believe it even when her active mind didn't. You got away before anything bad happened.

But what if she hadn't? She had blacked out, but she didn't even know how long. It couldn't have been long enough for anything like that to happen, could it?

No. No. No.

Ahsoka squeezed her eyes shut and shook her already aching head vigorously, trying to forget the helpless drop of her stomach and the burning of her skin from unwelcome hands.

The floor was still cold. You're still dressed. Nothing happened.

Her throat felt raw from the suppressed sobs making her chest ache with the effort of holding them in. Her lower lip trembled and her hands gripped the sides of the basin tighter until her fingertips were raw and scratched, but Ahsoka didn't care.

She screwed her eyes shut, squeezing them until she saw stars and until her head started to ache from the strain, as if keeping her eyes closed would prevent her current reality from hurting her anymore.

Like she was holding up a blanket and reality was about to slice through it with a lightsaber.

Her lungs still seemed to be incapable of functioning correctly, and the lump in her throat only seemed to grow despite how hard she willed it away.

She couldn't take it anymore. It felt like a bubble was rising through her chest, burning her throat and her lungs alike, straining her head and her stomach.

And this time, she couldn't supress it any longer.

Her cheeks stung from the endless salt that dropped painfully, shamefully down them. She pressed her hands down hard over her mouth, as if the harder she pushed the less it would hurt, and tried to muffle the staggering sobs that left her shuddering.

Stop it!

She couldn't.

She stumbled backward, sinking to the ground as her back met a hard wall, shaking.

She shoved her fist into her mouth to try and muffle the gut-wrenching noise of what she saw as weakness. She buried her face into her knees, rocking back and forth, gasping for breath that was not there.

For some unexplainable reason, she felt that if she stopped moving, then everything would come crashing down on her. Suffocating her, and rendering her as incapable and useless as she had been while pinned down to the cold floor by a malevolent presence.

This was not the first time she had felt like this — war was never pretty, and the looming presence of it never truly leaves. But at least before she had been able to ground herself in the intangible certainties of her life.

The Jedi, Anakin, Obi-Wan, Rex, the clones. The fact that she wasn't alone in the world. The knowledge that she was a part of something larger than herself, that she was helping people and making a difference in the galaxy.

Before, when she had felt like her lungs were collapsing and the sky was falling or the world was imploding, she had been able to realize that there was more to it than that one moment of narrow-minded weakness. That she had something to fight for, to inspire her to get up no matter how many times she was knocked down.

The reliable certainty that even after she became bruised and beaten in a battle she had a place to go to heal, and people to keep her company.

Now, she had nothing but the bruises and the beating, with nothing — tangible or intangible — to ground herself with.

She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, her sharp Togrutan teeth splitting the already bruised skin of her knuckles until she could taste the tangy, metallic presence of blood. But she couldn't find it in herself to care.

She really should have known better, she thought. How could she have forgotten to lock the door? How stupid could she be?

Why had she taken this job? She should have been more wary — it had been too easy, too good to be true, too relieving.

She should have known better.

Nothing ever comes without a price.

Isn't that what Anakin had told her? Back then she thought he meant she had to work harder to be better — that dedication and commitment lead to success.

Now, she wondered if this was what he meant all along. That nothing was ever so easy — there was always someone or something, whether it had a conscience controlling it or not, that would seek atonement or compensation.

A balance. Just like the Force.

Ahsoka hoped Anakin wouldn't be disappointed in her for acting so stupid. She doubted he would — he'd probably be more concerned than disappointed — but still, she felt like a fool. Humiliated and weak.

Calm down.

She hiccuped, fiercely rubbing at her eyes to alleviate the salty stains on her cheeks.

The lump in her throat had shrunk significantly, as if the crying had begun to melt it away.

"Ugh."

Ahsoka exhaled her first real breath, her lungs seeming to remember what they were actually supposed to do.

She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. She wanted to stay there forever, to pacify her fatigue, but as the last of her tears slipped down her cheeks, she felt her stomach clench in a nauseating way.

Her eyes snapped open and she leaned forward, her head over the toilet next to her as she heaved.

The shock and adrenaline of the experience had finally begun to wear off, and Ahsoka realized how much her body actually hurt.

She pulled herself back from the ceramic bowl, leaning her head up against the wall behind her once again as she hugged her stomach. She took another uneasy breath.

She grit her teeth before dragging herself up to the basin across from her, the water still pouring out in a smooth, steaming stream.

As she hiccuped, rinsing her mouth out with with the hot water, she guessed that the vomit was from a mix of shock, exhaustion, and pain.

Her vision swam in and out of focus as she finally shut off the water, leaning heavily on the stone bowl to support herself.

The silence was deafening with the absence of the constant noise, but Ahsoka hardly noticed. She was in too much pain.

The mirror began to clear of steam, and Ahsoka managed to get a grip on her spacial reasoning — it no longer felt like she was falling.

She straightened up with a deep, albeit painful, breath, and searched her own face.

Her left cheek was raw and swollen, and her right eye had turned a nasty shade of purple. She could see that her knuckles were raw and bruised, as well split up on one hand from her own teeth marks.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted up her shirt to see the damage done to her torso.

She winced as her fingers passed carefully over her rib cage — she hoped they weren't cracked, though they were definitely bruised. The blues and purples and blacks and greens all seemed to swirl together in a terrifying mural across her skin.

She slowly turned, her back facing the mirror, and twisted painfully, air hissing out through her teeth as she observed the bruising on her back to the best of her ability.

It didn't look much better, but the main thing that hurt was her rib cage.

She dropped her shirt with a sigh and began observing her lekku.

It wasn't a very pleasant experience.

Actually, it kind of sucked.

Lekku were very sensitive, and having them poked and prodded and touched and slammed against walls did not help her pain tolerance.

Her left lekku had began to turn a sickly shade of dark blue, and she could only guess what the back one looked like — she decided she didn't want to know.

Her head throbbed, and her body ached. It felt like someone had taken a hammer to her skull.

There was a slight pounding in her head, brought on by dehydration and exhaustion, as well as the shear force of the impact her skull had made with various things: the ground, the wall, the shelves, and feet and fists.

She no doubt had a concussion.

Her skin tingled and burned, as if it would never let her forget the cold, dirty hands that had touched her. Her lekku still prickled with more than pain — they seared with shame and humility that she hadn't had control over what had happened.

She wished she could go back in time — lock the stupid door so that she would never have to feel like this ever again.

Dirty, violated, pathetic.

She hated the feeling.

But she knew she couldn't go back in time, no matter how much she wished to do so.

The only thing she knew that she could do was move on. Keep going, and not let it weigh her down.

She took another shaky breath, though she was relieved to find that it came easier than the last one.

She stared into her own eyes. A clear blue that burned with a new sense of self, and a new boldness that sparked a hope for what was to come for her.

No matter how many times she was knocked down, she knew she would get back up again.

Because if Ahsoka Tano was one thing, it was determined.

And Ahsoka Tano was determined to rise.

::::

Hi 👋 . here i am procrastinating my homework again. So sorry it's taken so long and that despite the exaggerated abscence that I have inadvertently taken, it still majorly sucks. i literally started it a week ago and just never got to writing it.

so it's kinda long — honestly, it could probably be about three chapters instead of one but oh well. here's my apology for not updating for like a week.

* i'm sorry about the risqué content, but just let me know if it bothered anyone and i can either change it or just give a brief summary. (just comment or pm me and i can either put it at the start of this or the next chapter or just tell you personally).

i hope that it wasn't too mature, because at the top i did say that it wasn't too bad, but just let me know if i should change that. also let me know if i should include a more descriptive warning about what the triggers are.

also, I apologize for the cringy fighting and if the content is a little too sensitive.

and sorry if it's unrealistic — thankfully i've never been in a situation quite as drastic before, so i'm just going off of what i know (and i've been decently lucky so far, so that really isn't that much) i mean, i think pretty much every girl (or really anyone) has been in a situation where they feel absolutely disgusted by a boy (or just a person, for that matter) for something they've done to them (i know i have, anyway), so i really hope it didn't bring back any memories for anyone.

(ps: if anyone needs someone to talk to, i'm here for you — it's never your fault if something like that happens to you, by the way)

anyways, thanks for reading! bye!

*unedited

10/(23/27)/20

word count: 6088 (wow! longest chapter yet!)