Before I begin to tell you about my life, I must, in good conscience demand of you, the reader, one thing: I am not to be pitied.
“Self pity is the enemy. If you yield to it, you will never accomplish true greatness.”
No. I do not reveal my history to you so that you may feel provoked to express such feeling to me. Rather, I share myself so that I may serve a greater good. In order that I may serve as a shining example of strength.
"Real strength is a decision made within oneself.”
Now that the terms of this self-revelation have been established, we may proceed with my story.
I was born on Fantasia, an Elfin planet divided into two classes. The aristocracy is made up of the Asrai, or Wood Elves, as outsiders refer to them. They are noted for their light skin, brown hair and deep brown eyes. The lower, working class, Svartalfar, or Dark Elves, are easily identified by their blue skin, their white hair and their brilliant blue eyes.
No doubt you have wondered about my alluring appearance. My Svartalfarian heritage is clearly evident in my hair and eye color. However, my skin is extremely light blue, almost pale. Far lighter than what is usual for the Svartalfar. As some have fathomed, I am quite unique.
I am the by-product of a loving, but highly illegal union. For you see, it is a violation of the greatest law for any Elf, regardless of class, to breed with another species. My father, of course, was well aware of this law. However, it did not stop him from finding my mother, a human, pleasing.
They kept their relationship carefully hidden. A secluded home far from prying eyes became their private sanctuary. When I was born, I became their most treasured secret. Sadly, as with most secrets, theirs became known. I have no memory of just how it came to be revealed. However, I will never forget the day we were discovered.
Father was helping me with my ciphers while Mother prepared the evening meal. We had just sat down at the table for one of my favorite meals of wild mushrooms and Hsuberry roots. Suddenly, the front door burst open and armed police rushed into the room. I was restrained while they subdued my parents and forced them to their knees.
I watched in silence as an Asrain officer strode purposefully into the room coming to stand before me. A look of revulsion crossed his face as his eyes closely examined me.
The only thing worse than a Svartálfar is a halfbreed.--Fantasian Police Officer
Turning away to face my parents, he read aloud the charges against them. In a crisp, clear, authoritative voice he declared them guilty on all counts. Frozen in horror, I watched as he pulled out his blaster and first shot one, then the other, in the head. Their bodies fell with a sickening thud. All I could do was stare. It was the sight of their blood mixing together on the stone floor that awakened me from my shock. I became filled with burning hate…a reservoir which I still draw upon to this day.
“Fantasian law enforcement does not fuck around.”
Without further preamble, I was torn from the only home I ever knew. I was deposited unceremoniously in the Fantasian Home for Unwanted Elves. I do not know what I expected, but it was certainly not what I received. Prejudice, ostracism and hatred were the norm and that was just from the perspective adoptive parents. From the fellow children and administrators, I faced much worse.
Daily beatings, hunger and other physical and mental cruelties were my rewards for being unique. Yet I endured these hardships with a quiet resolve determined to view it as training for a greater future. Of course, at that time, I had no idea how right I really was.
"Allow hardship to strengthen both your mind and your body.”
It was the practice of the orphanage to parade all available Elfin children around the village each month. This was done with the hope of eliciting emotions sufficient to move families to open their home, or at the very least, their purse strings. During such parades, I was subject to hurled insults as well as the occasional thrown fruit. I became proficient at avoiding such projectiles and blocking out distractions. The years passed by without any family rising above their prejudices to accept me into their home.
Thus you can imagine my surprise when I was informed that I was to leave the orphanage. I packed my meager belongings consisting of one change of patched clothing and a tattered book. Stepping out the doors without even a backwards glance, I felt as if my life was ready to begin anew. Determination filled me. I would make the most of whatever awaited me.
“A weak person waits for opportunities to find him. A strong person creates his own.”
When I arrived at my new residence, I am sure I stood there with my mouth agape. The splendor of this home was in sharp contrast to my two previous lodgings. Of course, I immediately recognized that this manor could only belong to an Asrai. However, the class of the owner did not concern me. I knew from experience that hatred, cruelty and prejudice were not class exclusive. Instead, my mind began to swirl with possibilities… schooling, fine clothing, a soft bed and a full stomach.
I was ushered into an expansive library. There I came to stand before an elderly man. I was immediately struck by his pallor. Clearly, this was a man who found himself more comfortable amongst the tomes of this room than the beauties of his own gardens. Oh how I longed to explore and discover the mysteries and knowledge contained within those walls.
My place within the household was explained to me. I would not be an adopted daughter, or a beloved relation; rather, I was to be trained as a servant. Not an ordinary servant, for my assignment was not one of menial labor. Instead, I would interact with and facilitate the needs of the visiting dignitaries to the home. One might imagine that I would be disappointed upon learning of this role. On the contrary, I was fascinated.
To prepare me for this future, I received a varied and challenging education. My instructions covered everything from etiquette, history, language and art to proper grooming and presentation. I learned to speak with eloquence and carry myself with dignity and grace. During the course of my instruction, I was well clothed and enjoyed nutritious food and a comfortable room. Physical comfort and mental stimulation combined to form what I pictured as an idyllic life.
"If you are traveling a road without obstacles, it probably isn’t worth the journey.”
Everything was progressing according to plan until just prior to my thirteenth birthday. My new curves and enlarged bosom heralded my admittance into puberty and my first steps towards womanhood. It also resulted in leering stares and unwelcome advances.
It started innocently enough. I was trying on a newly purchased outfit when the master arrived. I dressed hastily not realizing that my blouse was askew. He carefully looked me up and down. As he reached out to make note of my error, his hand brushed softly across my breast. I trembled slightly from the contact. He smirked pleased by my involuntary reaction. From that moment onward, my life would never be the same.
More and more frequently, he found reason to have me near him. No longer were the touches accidental. He would simply reach out and fondle my breasts or slap my ass as I passed within reach. Clearly, he viewed me as his property and could do with me as he pleased.
One evening I found myself alone in the library. I was absorbed in a thesis regarding the Kumumgah, the early inhabitants of Tatooine, and did not hear him enter the room. Spread about me on the table were the various reference books that I was consulting. When first he touched my hair, I was startled and annoyed for the interruption. Then he took my hand and pulled me to my feet facing him. Without a word his lips were on mine. The fruity, rich scent of Alderaanian ale tainted his hot breath. His mouth traveled first down to my neck and then to my chest. His hands cupped my ass and pushed our bodies together. It was then I felt his bulging groin.
I pushed him away and was immediately rewarded with a striking blow to my cheek. He shoved me backwards onto the table and struck me again and again. The taste of my own blood filled my mouth. My blouse was ripped away exposing my pert breasts to him. His hands harshly grasped at them as his mouth bit my nipple. I savagely kicked and clawed at him. He responded with a sharp uppercut to my chin followed by repeated punches to my stomach. My vision began to darken as I fought to remain conscious.
He forced my legs open and climbed on top of me. His knees pinning my legs down. I felt his hardened member search for entry into my body. I scratched at his eyes only to again be punched in the face. My nose broke with that hit and blood spewed down my face. He grabbed my wrists with one hand and firmly clasped them above my head. Obviously, I was not sexually aroused so when he forced his cock into me, I was without any lubricant. I screamed as my body tore to accommodate his girth. My pain seemed only to further excite him. He began to mercilessly pound into me harder and faster.
Enraged I writhed beneath him. I would not be a victim. My life was not to be ruined by this man. I refused to allow him to continue raping me. How dare he treat me this way. My hate began to bubble forth. He had to be stopped. He deserved to die.
In mid-thrust he suddenly stopped, his back arching away from me. His cock shriveling up. His face contorted into a mask of anguish. From his lips came a torturous scream of agony as blood begin to leak from his eyes and ears. His hands clasped his head in misery as his body was wracked with pangs of torment. Tremors spread across his chest as his body suffered seizure after seizure. Blood began to seep from his pores. With one final horrifying scream, his body was rent in two. His heart, brain and other vital organs burst forth spraying matter around the room. The foul, fecal stench of his ruptured intestines and rectum filled the air. Overcome with nausea, I emptied my stomach of its contents.
At the time, I had no way of knowing that I had just tapped into my latent force powers. What I did know was that I had just killed an Asrain. An act that would surely cost me my life. I rushed to clean myself of the filth that tainted me as my mind raced furiously to develop a plan of action. Possibilities were examined and quickly discarded. There was only one solution. I had to flee. I needed to leave that world, that life far behind. The spaceport was my only hope.
“To withdraw is not the same as running away, when hope is no longer possible.”