Not broken. The words ricochet against the walls of her skull, sending violent vibrations through her body with every bang. There's something to be thankful for in that statement, she knows, but it's muddied and clouded by the forceful undercurrent of guilt and shame - raging, destructive waters deafening her ears and pulling her below the surface. There are beams of light shining through, displaced and altered by the water's peaks, but for as much as she tries to reach out - take hold - her fingers can never capture them.
Jaw clenches, eyes close, fingers squeeze, chest tightens. There's no crying in war, Erso. Pull yourself together, get up, and try again, Staven scolds somewhere in the back of her mind. Slow inhale. Slower exhale. Eyes open lazily, half-lidded and out of focus on the ground at her feet.
"It isn't just that," she squeaks, voice hoarse and thick. "I know I wasn't in my right mind, when it happened." Memories are still fluttering in like petals on a breeze, haphazard and one-at-a-time. There are many hours of those last few days which are unaccounted for. She turns towards him, haunted eyes seeking out his - looking for the trust she wants to see, the betrayal she expects to see. Finds no hint of the latter, sighs, and continues.
"My mother was killed, when I was young. My father taken by the Empire for his genius and research. They tried to find me, but I'd hid in a bunker my father had made in case they'd caught up to us. I was seven. Or eight. I can't remember." Eyes fall back to the liquid of her mug. "I was taken in by a man named Saw Gerrera. An insurgent. He brought me to his planet, trained me to fight for him, turned me into a child soldier." Knuckles bleed white under the tension of her grip. "The first time they tried to teach me to spar, I wouldn't do it. I'd never hurt anything or anyone before. I did it eventually, didn't have a choice. But I promised myself I'd never hurt a civilian, not if I could help it." Her head turns back towards him, muted eyes now brimming with tears she won't set free. "I betrayed that promise the moment I hurt you, Kira."
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Jaw clenches, eyes close, fingers squeeze, chest tightens. There's no crying in war, Erso. Pull yourself together, get up, and try again, Staven scolds somewhere in the back of her mind. Slow inhale. Slower exhale. Eyes open lazily, half-lidded and out of focus on the ground at her feet.
"It isn't just that," she squeaks, voice hoarse and thick. "I know I wasn't in my right mind, when it happened." Memories are still fluttering in like petals on a breeze, haphazard and one-at-a-time. There are many hours of those last few days which are unaccounted for. She turns towards him, haunted eyes seeking out his - looking for the trust she wants to see, the betrayal she expects to see. Finds no hint of the latter, sighs, and continues.
"My mother was killed, when I was young. My father taken by the Empire for his genius and research. They tried to find me, but I'd hid in a bunker my father had made in case they'd caught up to us. I was seven. Or eight. I can't remember." Eyes fall back to the liquid of her mug. "I was taken in by a man named Saw Gerrera. An insurgent. He brought me to his planet, trained me to fight for him, turned me into a child soldier." Knuckles bleed white under the tension of her grip. "The first time they tried to teach me to spar, I wouldn't do it. I'd never hurt anything or anyone before. I did it eventually, didn't have a choice. But I promised myself I'd never hurt a civilian, not if I could help it." Her head turns back towards him, muted eyes now brimming with tears she won't set free. "I betrayed that promise the moment I hurt you, Kira."