With her knees pulled up to her chin, Abigail looked up at the movie screen. It was a movie she’d seen a million times before. Well, she thought, maybe not a million. But it was the movie that played most often in the movie room, and the one she loved best. She pushed herself deeper into the cushions of the large armchair and watched the flickering figures move across the screen. The sound sometimes faded in and out, but Abigail knew all the words by heart.
“You are beaten,” she quoted along with the dark robed figured. “It is useless to resist. Don’t let yourself be destroyed as Obi-Wan did.”
Echo entered the room as Abigail was speaking. She climbed up into a chair next to Abigail’s and trained her eyes on the movie screen. Her notebook was on her knees, her hand tracing an ever-widening spiral on the top sheet.
Abigail didn’t look at her. “Hi Echo,” she said. Echo reached over and tapped Abigail’s arm. They both watched the struggling figures, the flashing points of light that had the ability to sever flesh and bone. “I wish I had a lightsaber,” said Abigail.
Echo tapped Abigail’s arm again. Abigail pushed Echo’s hand away. “Wait a second, my favorite part is coming.” They listened to the masked man as he tried to convince the young hero to join him.
“I’ll never join you!” said Abigail.
Echo rolled her eyes. On top of the spiral in the center of her paper, she began to draw two figures with swords.
Abigail continued, “If you only knew the power of the Dark Side. Obi-Wan never told you what happened to your father.”
Echo drew spiky lines around each blade. She filled in one of the figures completely and added a long cloak.
“He told me enough,” said Abigail. “He told me you killed him.”
On the face of the other shape, a large O for a mouth signified surprise. She drew two eyes squeezed shut and tears drops falling from them.
“No,” Abigail quoted seriously. “I am your father.”
Echo began to color in the other figure, starting from the feet, as Abigail continued with the scene. Deliberate dark lines gradually covered it with black, until it was as dark as the caped figure facing it.
Finally Abigail turned to the younger girl. She leaned over the arm rest of her chair to look at Echo’s drawing. “Imagine if your father was the Man in Black,” she said.
Echo shook her head. She drew an ellipse under the two figures and lengthened it into the shape of a whirlwind. Black lines leading from the figures’ feet sucked them into the tornado.
“I know,” said Abigail. She sat back in her chair again. The movie continued, but she didn't notice. "Sometimes I think he is. Sometimes I think really bad things and then I think that it's because the Man in Black must be my father."
Echo looked up from her drawing. She put a hand on Abigail's arm.
"Well, then where do those things come from?" Abigail demanded. "Sophie always tells me how I'm so sweet and I would never hurt anyone." She leaned closer. "Want to know what I would do with a lightsaber?"
Echo nodded minutely.
"I would take it into my room and I would push it up to my chest, right here." She pointed to the spot. "Then I would press the button and it would turn on, right through my heart." She fell back into her chair and rested her chin in her palm. "Do you think that hurting yourself counts as not hurting anyone?"
After adding seven hearts to the sheet, Echo drew a thick jagged line through each one. She tore the sheet from her notebook and handed it to Abigail.
Abigail studied the drawing. She folded it carefully. "Thanks Echo," she said. "If I have to be trapped in this place, I'm glad it's with you." Then she smiled sadly and left the room.
Echo watched as lightspeed gathered around the Millenium Falcon and catapulted it into space.