A L M A N A | The Mandalorian

Chapter 12: The Gunslinger Pt. 2

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Chapter 12: The Gunslinger Pt.2

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It's quiet. And I'm cold. I try to recall a time in my life where I had fallen ill. But I can't. Apart of me believes my upbringing is a result of my strong immune system. I couldn't get sick, I had work to do.

But now, I wonder if my body knows how much of a break it's finally getting that now it can rest, it can break down and heal itself up again.

Sometimes when I try to recall things, I go blank. Like there's missing pieces in my memory. I don't know if it's the trauma or if me being ill is so insignificant that my brain doesn't process or hold the memory anymore.

Does trauma do that to a person? Make blank spots in your mind? If so, how much would I forget? How much of myself would I lose? Would I forget them?

Mando? Grogu?

My mom?

I Can physically feel the clenching of my heart at the mere thought of forgetting the people I've grown to care for. Forgetting my mother, someone I long to never forget.

There's this pinching in my lungs, it burns, and I feel like my lungs will collapse in on itself. My head is pounding. It started at my temples and now has travelled to the back of my brain.

If I was sick, did my mother ever take care of me?

Did she cook? Feed me nutritious and delicious meals.

No. I know the real answer. She begged our master for his table scraps. His answer was a beating.

Did she wrap me in a blanket? Warm and protected.

No. I know the real answer. We slept on the floor, our ankles chained to make sure we never escaped in the middle of the night. No bed, no blankets.

I remember the frost bite during the winter and I remember the burns during the summer.

Did she whisper reassuring words? Caring and loving.

No. I know the real answer. She prayed when she thought I was asleep. Begged the stars to save us from that life, pleaded to any God on why we were subjected to such a life, why were we punished when we did nothing wrong, but simply exist.

I can't remember....or at least that's what I choose to say to myself. But I know the truth. And I hate that it is the truth and that it happened.

My bottom lip trembles.

But would I forget her face?

No, I couldn't. Right? How could I forget the face I last seen.

Sunken eyes, loss of hope.

Hallow cheeks, malnourished.

Sickly pale, shackled.

No hair, loss of strength.

My hands shake as I gasp for breathe. I sniffle trying my best to calm my quivering body.