Jedi Healer
A scene from the past…
Valae’s speeder pulled up at home, and she hopped down with a sigh. It’d been a terribly long day. She’d started her morning off roaming the desert for any sign of scrap, and come up empty handed. Then, she’d managed to pull a night shift at the local cantina, dealing with dishes and drunks. It was not work that she liked doing, but times were especially tough. At least the line cook had taken pity on her and slipped her a hot meal to take home. The scant dinners that she shared with her father did little to nourish and almost nothing to satisfy hunger, this was bound to be a treat. With the meal container tucked gently in the crook of her arm, her worn out boots carried her towards the Kitra family dwelling. The sound of clinking glass broke the nighttime silence; Valae cast a glance down to find a scattering of ale bottles littering the sandy ground.
“Not again,” She groaned, her shoulders slumped in exasperation.
Stomping up the steps, she pushed in the screen door.
“Atticus Kitra, you good fer nothin--” She hollered, but the words caught in her throat.
Her brown eyes had settled on the motionless form of her father. He was sprawled out on his back, limbs stretched out limply. Valae could smell the alcohol rising from his person, clothing, and the rug beneath his body. It was almost like being trapped inside a bottle of whiskey. She stepped forward and gingerly tapped his leg with the toe of her boot. No response.
“Hey! Old man!” She called, “If you’re tryin’ to be funny… so help me, I’ll end you myself.”
Another step brought her closer. Was he breathing? The meal container dropped from her grip, the contents spilled onto the dirty stone floor. Instantly, Valae fell to her knees next to her father and her fists began to pound his chest. A gasping breath made Atticus Kitra suddenly sit straight up, the ragged man reached up to rub the scruff on his chin. His bloodshot eyes shifted to the side, and he jumped at the sight of his frantic daughter. Atticus narrowed his eyes suspiciously and pushed himself up from the floor with a grunt.
“What’cha doin’, crowdin’ me like that?” He rasped, “Give a man some space.”
Valae sat on the floor, surrounded by the remains of their dinner, her doe-eyes welling with tears. She wordlessly held up her palms to her father, they were shaking. Atticus turned to the bottle to help him forget – his own pain and his senses had been numb for years now. It had been a long time since he’d been a proper father. He’d even forgotten how difficult it was for Valae, losing her mother so young. He didn’t realize that his daughter always held onto the fear that he would end up leaving her, too.
“What’s the matter with you?” Atticus snatched up the nearest bottle and tipped it to his lips.
“What’s the matter with me?” Valae finally cried, and her voice cracked. “What is wrong with you?”
Standing from her place on the floor, Valae clenched her fists tight. Her jaw grew tight and she glared at the drunken man swaying before her. There were many things she wanted to say, but she knew that it was no use. Whenever her father was in this state, it was like trying to reason with a brick wall. Valae turned her back on Atticus and stormed into her small room. In a frenzy of emotion, she gathered up a random armful of clothing and shoved it roughly into her rucksack. Her fist pounded the bundle until she could close the leather flap, and she slung the bag over her shoulder. She refused to look into her father’s eyes, so she stormed right on past him and out the door. However, she didn’t make it far…
“Hey! Where you goin’, girl?” Atticus rounded on her, his form hunched in the doorway.
“I-I’m leaving.” Valae said, trying to sound confident and strong. But it was a thin act.
Atticus tilted his head back and roared with laughter, the cruel sound made Valae flinch. She watched as her father ambled forward, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. The bottle fell from his grasp and clattered against the ground, and his crooked index finger jabbed the air.
“Just where have you got to go?” He spat in the sand, “Nowhere -- that’s where.”
Valae took a couple of steps towards her speeder, but there was a sinking feeling in her chest. He was right, and she knew it. Before she could form a response, Atticus stumbled forward. His ankles got tangled up together, and the frail man fell down, his face in the sand. For a moment he remained still, but groaned and stirred on the spot. Valae immediately found her boots carrying her towards him, there was blood around his mouth now. With a sigh, the young woman hooked an arm around her father and hefted him to his unsteady feet. Together they moved towards the house, and she dropped him down against the wall.
“Kark it. Cut my lip.” He said gruffly, “But see? You aint never gonna leave. You’ll always come back.”
“I know,” Valae said softly, admitting defeat. “I know.”
