She Has Always Loved Me

Written by Sailor Berchest

I've known from the night I turned 5 that I was special. That night, the sky crashed down around my mother and I while we stood with our faces up turned, counting the flashes as a million stars flung themselves to their deaths -- that was the night she told me. The night she told me I was special -- if I were blessed, I was destined to die young and see the coming of the greatest being of all time. She wept -- she knew she'd never see the one. Never see her great destiny be fulfilled. She held me, and she cried.

I cried too -- though, I didn't understand why.

My name is Passi. This is my story.

I've been in love all my life. There's nothing more incredible to me than to sit on the top of a Coruscant building with my legs dangling over, holding the hand of a pretty female. Maybe I'll lean over and whisper in her ear that I love her just to hear the sigh of contentment she'll give. She'll relax into my arms and nestle like a small animal who has just found the only safe place in a forest of horrors.

That may be when I push her over the edge, or I may wait a few moments because it feels so good to hold her in my arms.

But in the end, she is more beautiful flying to her death that she ever was sitting beside me.

I watch her, and I imagine that she is a star, falling from the sky landing around my mother and I. The night is still young. She still has her destiny. I do not yet have mine. In our own ways, we are still free.

Tonight, I fell in love again.

I have never seen a more beautiful woman. Critically, looking at her, she has breasts that are too large and legs that are too thin for my liking. She is too much of a flirt -- I like a woman who will be mine alone and wants to settle down. I'm old fashioned like that -- and she is too much of a slut. I can tell by the way she moves that she is full of confidence and pride. She is a creature of the world that I've shunned and I must have her.

She's dancing now, one thin leg wrapped around a glimmering pole and her long, purple hair flying out behind her as she spins. Her body is taunt and poised. Every muscle is working and I wonder if she's ever been in love.

Her laugh breaks through the music like a glass orb shattering and I decide to believe she is like me -- always in love. Always searching for a perfect love. Always watching the sky, waiting for the stars to join her on the ground.

It doesn't take much to find out where she goes when her set is over. A million men have asked that question, I knew, but I was special. I have known I was special since I was 5 -- since the stars fell down.

She's there when I arrive -- at the bar, standing out in the damp, dark dive that seemed to be composed entirely of hidden recesses and shadows holding creatures you never saw, who never existed, and who would cause total amnesia should the authorities ever ask. She is dressed in colors, a foreign concept in this fabricated world of brown and black. Even the glassware kept its glimmer to itself, as if it was concerned about its own safety.

My feet crush glass beneath them, and I consider that it may not be a false concern.

There's no reason to pretend I'm not there for her. She is a beacon in the wilderness and I know that she already loves me as I love her.

"My name is Passi," I say to her. My voice is rich, deep, masculine. I know this; I have been told by many lovers. "I saw you earlier today." She giggles, reaching out her hand to shake mine. It is beautiful. Her skin glows with an unnatural light--it could be the darkness of the bar, but I imagine that she glows like this all the time. An angel encased in flesh begging to be set free so that she may fly.

I wrap my hand around hers and find it unnaturally cold for her skin tone. She is an angel then -- the chill of space is leaking out through the veneer of flesh.

"My name is Suri," she responds, her eyes catching what little light the place offers and reflecting it back. They are deep grey pools; I am drawn in and lost forever.

I open my mouth to speak again, but the barkeep interrupts. She is a thin, pale woman with almost translucent hair. There is bitterness and anger in her eyes, as well as the far away look that speaks of addiction. I realize that I love her too, and count myself determined to come back and tell her when I am free.

"Suri, take your trade elsewhere." Her voice is gruff and businesslike.

"But Carm!" She is a child, plaintive and begging.

"Out." A parent's stern reprimand.

They have this conversation a hundred times, the same inflections, the same looks, the same tones. This is affection. This is kinship. They are sisters, I realize. They are sisters, and I will never see the barkeep again. It breaks my heart, because I love her intensely.

We walk out the door and she is talking in bubbly tones about dancing and movement. She could talking about nerf shit and I would still listen, drinking in every word. We are walking and walking and walking.

"Would you like to go to the surface?"

Her eyes light up. "It's raining," she says, her voice hushed. "It's always raining."

I take her hand and we get into a car that will take us away from the mangy underbelly of Coruscant. We are going up, up, up.

She and I sit, my hand on her thigh, talking. She places her hand on my chest and sighs deeply. Her eyelashes flutter playfully. She is a woman in love and she is mine.

The rain is coming down in soft sheets, peeling away from the clouds and floating down to the tops of the building where we stood. She stands there with her arms outstretched. Her body is framed by the splash of hundreds of droplets. I can hear her laughter.

Force, she's so beautiful. I have to reach out; I have to touch her.

We embrace and we kiss. Her mouth is like chocolate melting into mine. She is smooth and tastes of rain. Her hands run up and down my back, pulling on the soaking wet cloth. I can feel her body growing warmer in the cold rain and I know that she wants to consummate our love.

God, I can't wait to see her fly.

We are touching and she has her back against a pole. It's holding up a huge sign and casts just enough light for me to see her body stretching and see her lips parted, panting.

I lift her up and set her on the edge of the roof-the ledge is wide, and she clutches more tightly to me. I pant in her ear, telling her to let go, that I have her, that I love her. She is stretching out again and I realize that I love her, and I have never told her my name.

"It's Passi," I pant as I push her.

She gasps and falls, her legs tumbling over her head.

I don't understand why, but she's grabbed the ledge. She's holding on. I grab her hand. "Don't you want to fly?" I ask.

She screams -- anger flowing from her like the rain that has suddenly grown harsher, more violent. Her strong arms are enough to pull herself up, even with my attempt to let her go. She is standing now, above me, towering in her heels. Every muscle is taunt an poised. She is destruction. She is anger. She is... I love her.

This time, she pushes me against the pole. The force is such that wires shake lose and sparks begins to fall with the rain. They hurt when they land on flesh. I push back. I don't understand.

We begin to push and she is a fighter -- I still can't understand why she won't let me love her. We are fighting in rain and sparks and I lose sight of the building's edge.

It is inevitable -- she lands a punch that no woman should be able to throw and I fly backwards into a void. There is nothing beneath me. I am flying, surrounded by sparks and rain.

I look up and she is there. I cannot see her face -- she is only a silhouette surrounded by stars. She is screaming and finally, I realize what has happened.

She has killed me in a shower of stars.

Mother, I have fulfilled your destiny. Mother, the stars and I are coming.

I stand up. The world is gone and I am alone. My new residence is green and covered in flowers that vary from bright to pale yellows. There is a wall with an outline of a jnkee in a muted yellow tone. The jnkee holds in his hand a Staff twisted of three metals -- gold, silver, and bronze. I run my hand along it from the pointed tip to the inverted heart. It throbs with my touch and I laugh -- I am home.

She will come soon and I will tell her our story over and over. We will laugh and roll in the flowers and she will tell me she loves me.

She has always loved me.

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