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So I grew up on Naboo, nothing too glamorous. We were middle class and lived modestly. We survived week-to-week on a budget and in the process learned to appreciate what we had. It wasn’t my dad’s dream of a big house, white picket fence, one dog, two and a half kids, and a wife in the kitchen. Instead he had no yard, a two and a half room apartment, two kids, and an ex-wife. Some women do not have any maternal instincts, and she is one of them.
We went to stay with our mother for a week every month or so. She had remarried to a man named Pete. Pete hated us. Honestly we didn’t even see her when we visit half the time. We were left with Pete, and every little error earned us a tongue-lashing. Those weeks were torture.
Then Dad died and those weeks became a permanent stay. Still very little contact from Mom and Pete’s treatment of Sam and I grew worse.
Pete was a drinker, especially on weekends or holidays. On those times, if Sam dropped a plate, or I forgot to put ice in his glass, we got ourselves a whipping/beating whichever word you prefer.
I had to find a release for my anger, so I turned to adrenalin rushes. I would take the speeder for a joy ride, just down the road and back, to feel free. It worked until I crashed it. Mom came home to find me with a shiner the size of my fist over my eye. I couldn’t see out of my eye and was bruised all over. Pete claimed they were the result of the crash. Samantha was so angry she left home. She yelled at Pete, criticized Mom for not being there, told her the truth, and stormed off. I never saw her again.
Mom couldn’t take the stress. So she sent me to live with relatives off-planet.
Sardis was amazing. It was green all the time and flowers everywhere. It was paradise. Crops grew well. Everyone was friendly and happy.
Then famine hit. The crops failed. People went hungry. So the governor Kordos stepped up to deal with things. He decided it was good enough time as any to start his eugenics program. He gathered everyone in the town square and announced his plan. “Survival comes at a high cost,” he said. Then he announced who wasn’t good enough. I was called. People ran, mother’s screamed, children cried, and everything happened so fast. Blaster fire erupted as guards gathered people up. I ran through their arms and into the forest. I must have run for hours. By the time I stopped I couldn’t hear anything except my own blood pumping through my ears. I determined I would go back the next day.
I don’t want to go into too much detail. I try to forget. I remember certain things, like standing in a destroyed village with ashes of homes everywhere and blood staining the ground in a myriad of colors, blue, and red, and white. You never forget the smell of burning flesh once you smell it. It’s even worse when mingling with decay and the smoke from bombs.
I found myself in charge of a group of children who got away. The largest the group ever got was twenty kids, including me. I was their makeshift leader only because I was the oldest. Do you know how old I was? Twelve. I was twelve.
We had to eat what we could when we could because we didn’t know when we’d eat again and we couldn’t take any with us. I told them that, verbatim. The next oldest child was ten! I saw kids go to sleep one night and not wake up the next morning. We had close calls. I’m half deaf in one ear from a bomb going off beside me. My eardrum burst, and it wasn’t repair until months later when the damage was already done.
Twenty kids I said. Only ten people survived Sardis. Do you know how many of those twenty survived? One. You’re looking at her.
By the time the Alliance army arrived, the nine others and me were the only left standing. We were emaciated, beaten, and tortured in my case. We were given help, Kordos was killed, and all went back to relatively normal. I spent three months in counseling and therapy. I wouldn’t eat at times, and other times I would gorge myself. My brain had been rewired from those months spent starving.
It wasn’t until I returned from therapy that I heard what had been done about the Sardis Disaster. Nothing had been done. The public was told nothing. Sardis was wiped from the banks. Nothing exists in any archive about Kordos or Sardis. You won’t find it on any map. There’s no memorial day. All that is left is those nine and me. We have our memories. We have our nightmares and our scars. That is it. The Alliance abandoned us. But we survived Sardis so we can survive anything. We celebrate the anniversary of Kordos’ announcement in our own ways. I know a guy who picks a fight to dull the pain inside. I drink.
I haven't slept in five days. I'm running on caffeine and will-power. Memories haunt my dreams. I'm forced to relive what I've been trying to forget for more than a decade. So I don't sleep. Sleep is the cousin of Death. I've seen too much death.
So, stranger, here I am. Twenty-seven years old and celebrating fifteen years of dealing with my demons. The Alliance has crumpled, the Empire rules with an iron fist and I’m getting drunk. I’m neutral. I don’t lean to either side. I hate everyone equally. I’ve dealt with my share of bad guys and tyrants. I just want to help people, save them from having to deal with the pain I’ve experienced first hand. I don’t know how I can do that though. I’m Atlas, for the weight of the world is on my shoulders.
We went to stay with our mother for a week every month or so. She had remarried to a man named Pete. Pete hated us. Honestly we didn’t even see her when we visit half the time. We were left with Pete, and every little error earned us a tongue-lashing. Those weeks were torture.
Then Dad died and those weeks became a permanent stay. Still very little contact from Mom and Pete’s treatment of Sam and I grew worse.
Pete was a drinker, especially on weekends or holidays. On those times, if Sam dropped a plate, or I forgot to put ice in his glass, we got ourselves a whipping/beating whichever word you prefer.
I had to find a release for my anger, so I turned to adrenalin rushes. I would take the speeder for a joy ride, just down the road and back, to feel free. It worked until I crashed it. Mom came home to find me with a shiner the size of my fist over my eye. I couldn’t see out of my eye and was bruised all over. Pete claimed they were the result of the crash. Samantha was so angry she left home. She yelled at Pete, criticized Mom for not being there, told her the truth, and stormed off. I never saw her again.
Mom couldn’t take the stress. So she sent me to live with relatives off-planet.
Sardis was amazing. It was green all the time and flowers everywhere. It was paradise. Crops grew well. Everyone was friendly and happy.
Then famine hit. The crops failed. People went hungry. So the governor Kordos stepped up to deal with things. He decided it was good enough time as any to start his eugenics program. He gathered everyone in the town square and announced his plan. “Survival comes at a high cost,” he said. Then he announced who wasn’t good enough. I was called. People ran, mother’s screamed, children cried, and everything happened so fast. Blaster fire erupted as guards gathered people up. I ran through their arms and into the forest. I must have run for hours. By the time I stopped I couldn’t hear anything except my own blood pumping through my ears. I determined I would go back the next day.
I don’t want to go into too much detail. I try to forget. I remember certain things, like standing in a destroyed village with ashes of homes everywhere and blood staining the ground in a myriad of colors, blue, and red, and white. You never forget the smell of burning flesh once you smell it. It’s even worse when mingling with decay and the smoke from bombs.
I found myself in charge of a group of children who got away. The largest the group ever got was twenty kids, including me. I was their makeshift leader only because I was the oldest. Do you know how old I was? Twelve. I was twelve.
We had to eat what we could when we could because we didn’t know when we’d eat again and we couldn’t take any with us. I told them that, verbatim. The next oldest child was ten! I saw kids go to sleep one night and not wake up the next morning. We had close calls. I’m half deaf in one ear from a bomb going off beside me. My eardrum burst, and it wasn’t repair until months later when the damage was already done.
Twenty kids I said. Only ten people survived Sardis. Do you know how many of those twenty survived? One. You’re looking at her.
By the time the Alliance army arrived, the nine others and me were the only left standing. We were emaciated, beaten, and tortured in my case. We were given help, Kordos was killed, and all went back to relatively normal. I spent three months in counseling and therapy. I wouldn’t eat at times, and other times I would gorge myself. My brain had been rewired from those months spent starving.
It wasn’t until I returned from therapy that I heard what had been done about the Sardis Disaster. Nothing had been done. The public was told nothing. Sardis was wiped from the banks. Nothing exists in any archive about Kordos or Sardis. You won’t find it on any map. There’s no memorial day. All that is left is those nine and me. We have our memories. We have our nightmares and our scars. That is it. The Alliance abandoned us. But we survived Sardis so we can survive anything. We celebrate the anniversary of Kordos’ announcement in our own ways. I know a guy who picks a fight to dull the pain inside. I drink.
I haven't slept in five days. I'm running on caffeine and will-power. Memories haunt my dreams. I'm forced to relive what I've been trying to forget for more than a decade. So I don't sleep. Sleep is the cousin of Death. I've seen too much death.
So, stranger, here I am. Twenty-seven years old and celebrating fifteen years of dealing with my demons. The Alliance has crumpled, the Empire rules with an iron fist and I’m getting drunk. I’m neutral. I don’t lean to either side. I hate everyone equally. I’ve dealt with my share of bad guys and tyrants. I just want to help people, save them from having to deal with the pain I’ve experienced first hand. I don’t know how I can do that though. I’m Atlas, for the weight of the world is on my shoulders.
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