--- [ Year 3 BTC | 6 Years Old ] --- 
“Keep your voice down, Lucretia… you will wake the girls...”
Truth be told, Briella had already awoken. The tiny child sat nestled against the door ajar to the sitting room, having crept her way down from her room at the sound raised voices. Her dark cheek carefully pressed to the silver rim of the door frame as she silently observed her parents fighting.
Father’s work kept him starbound, often living more on his starship than at their opulent Kaas City apartments, and usually his homecoming was a cause for celebration. It put Mother at ease -- something rather rare to come by. This night, was different, and Sabriella knew it was her fault.
“I took her in for the slim chance she was Force-sensitive enough to catch the notice of the Academy! Not to play mother to some alien while you’re off playing battleships on the other side of the galaxy. She’s your child, Remus… not mine!”
Her Mother’s words were a dangerous hiss, barely an attempt to lower her volume. Sabriella would have known their meaning even if she was deaf. From the open crack in the door, her opalescent eyes took in the scene beyond with the help of the Force -- a gift and a curse, granted from the woman who gave birth to her.
“Lucretia…” her Father’s voice sounded tense, though he was farm more controlled than his wife. “She is only six years old. Your hopes may still yet be realized.. And if not, what? She is our responsibility now, whether we like it or not.”
“You’re not the one who has to deal with hiring a new tutor every few months because they can’t stand how she knows things she just… shouldn’t,“ her Mother retaliated. Her aura was red and jagged with pain and anger. “Or ensure with the social niceties I must deal with, when they all know she’s dirty. I am tired of playing the philanthropist, Remus…! If she is not Sith then she is no good to me. I just can’t...”
Sabriella wilted against the door frame, listening to her mother break down into furious tears. She squeezed her eyes shut, burying her head into her knees, trying to block out the sight. But it didn’t work that way. Just as the Force was ever-present, so was Sabriella’s vision. Her Mother’s embarrassment and anger. Her Father’s guilt. She didn’t understand why exactly… but she saw it clearly, and knew it was because of her.
Her Father sounded worn out as he sighed heavily and relinquished his glass of whisky.
“I know someone at Veleshtikov’s,” he said finally. “I cannot leave my post, Lucretia… but perhaps boarding school will alleviate the burden on you while I am away. I’ll set up the meeting tomorrow before I depart…”
She couldn’t bear to listen anymore. A swell of tears threatened to run down her cheeks as the half-miraluka got to her feet and went to dart back to her room and hide beneath the covers of her bed like this was just a bad dream. When she cleared the hall, she found her older sister awake, sitting upright and glaring at her with a deep, red disappointment.
“You shouldn’t spy, Bri,” she accused. Though the girl was only thirteen, she spoke with a icy authority, the way their Mother did. “Go to sleep before I tell them you’re snooping around the house like a sneaky thief.”
Sabriella hung her head, creeping into the covers and buried herself in deep.
Why am I different? Force, please... Please… please make me Sith… please…
