Redemption

My anakin

The aftercare wasn't great, I'll admit it.

But what else could I expect? This was Vader. He didn't know how to care yet, but I wasn't quite sure how to either. Did I even know what care was? I honestly couldn't answer that myself after living so many years lonely, with no one who ever cared for me.

FLASHBACK

"Half a credit"

"That's it?" I questioned, my gaze fixed on the alien creature. Gruto resembled a grotesque blob of slime, mirroring his unpleasant personality. His voice, raspy and deep, spat out words as though his throat held a deep-seated disgust. "Last week, these were-"

"Yeah. That's it," he replied harshly, cutting me off with his tone dripping with contempt. "You're worthless if you think this is worth any more than that." He spat, disdainfully pointing at the metal scrap part I'd salvaged. The urge to roll my eyes was strong, but I resisted; after all, he practically owned me.

"Take it," I replied curtly, brushing off his earlier words. Gruto smirked, his slimy figure blending into the gloom as he grabbed the junk I'd found. The air was thick with the metallic scent of old machinery and the distant hum of unseen activities. He handed me back a half credit, its shine a stark contrast to the worn surroundings.

Certainly not enough to escape Coruscant, let alone sustain myself. I needed more.

"If you don't start performing, I'll only have a few choices of what to do with you," he snapped, his gaze predatory. "You're worth much more than what you bring me," he added perversely. A sick feeling gnawed at my stomach as I hastily pocketed the credits.

The thought of him selling me spiraled me into a state of disgust and shock. I wanted him to die, painfully, but that wasn't right. I wouldn't ever be able to do something like that, no matter how horrible he was.

Turning to storm off, my boots echoed against the cold, metallic floor. I didn't care about his veiled threats; if the time came, I could defend myself. Having worked for him for a while, unsure why I did, I navigated through the labyrinth of shadows and hidden alleys, doing what was necessary to survive in the harsh, unforgiving environment.

As I stepped out of Gruto's lair, fluorescent lights assaulted my senses, flashing vivid hues that reflected off the city buildings, in which reached insane heights. Advertisements of prostitutes and drugs were written all over huge boards connected to the buildings. Everything enveloped me—the pulsating beats of loud music, distant echoes of parties, the clash of fights, and heated arguments reverberated through the air. Sellers hawked their wares, merchants negotiated deals, and a tons of different species shuffled through the crowded, narrow pathways.

The atmosphere in the underworld of Coruscant was a chaotic symphony, a constant dance of chaos and vitality. The air hung heavy with a mixture of alien scents and the pungent odor of desperation. Neon signs flickered above makeshift stalls, casting an otherworldly glow on the diverse faces that navigated through the hustle.

This place was always infamous for its horrid conditions, a place where shadows concealed both danger and opportunity. While many feared it, I had become accustomed to its pulse—its rhythm of survival. After all, this chaotic underworld was not just a place I visited; it was home.

Pulling my hoodie over my head, I became aware of two persistent eyes on me – two Pantora men, their gaze fixed. It was a common occurrence in these parts, and I resolved to ignore it, quickening my pace with the sole objective of reaching my apartment.

"Slow down, pretty thing!" they jeered, a comment that only fueled my determination to escape. The echoes of their laughter spurred me to jog, the urgency intensifying. Despite the bustling crowd around me, an unsettling fear took hold. This was a place where people vanished regularly, victims of kidnappings sold for ransom, and no one ever seemed to blink an eye.