Gripping the stylus tightly, Bria wiped away her tears, then forced herself to finish the most difficult letter she would ever write . .
.
Han knew something was wrong even before he opened his eyes. There was no sound, none at all. “Bria?” he called. Where is she? Sliding out of bed, he pulled on his clothes. “Bria, honey?”
No answer.
Han took a deep breath and told his wildly hammering heart to calm down.
She probably went out to get some stim-tea and pastry for breakfast, he told himself. It was a reasonable guess, under the circumstances—but something told him that he was wrong.
He sealed the front of his coverall, then picked up his jacket. Only then did he notice that Bria’s duffel was gone.
With a low moan of anguish, he saw something white protruding from the pocket of his jacket. Han pulled it out—and found himself holding a pouch illed with high-denomination credit vouchers. And there was something else, too …
A note. Written on creased and folded flimsy. Han shut his eyes, clutching it. It was nearly a full minute before he could force himself to open his eyes, force himself to read:
Dearest Han.
You don’t deserve for this to happen, and all I can say is, I’m sorry.
I love you, but I can’t stay…
15
Out of the Fire
She’ll come back was Han’s first thought, and I’ve lost her forever…
was his second. He stared wildly around the room, feeling as if it might explode if he didn’t DO something. With a loud curse he hurled his jacket at the wall, then he yanked the pillows off the bed and flung them, too.
Not enough—Han wondered frantically if he were going mad. His head felt too small to contain his mind, and he was filled with the need to howl his pain and anguish aloud, like a Wookiee.
“AAAAHHHHHHHHH? he cried, and grabbing the battered chair that was one of the room’s three pieces of furniture, Han swung it over his head and sent it crashing full-tilt into the door. A loud curse from his next-door neighbor followed. The chair lay there on the threadbare floor matting, unbroken. The door was still intact, too.
Han collapsed onto the bed and just lay there for several minutes, head buried in his arms. The pain came and went in waves. His chest ached, simply breathing hurt. His only relief came when he felt numb all Over.
Somehow, the numbness was the worst of all.
After a long time, it occurred to Han that he had not finished Bria’s letter. Except for the pile of credit vouchers, it was all he had left of her, so he dragged himself upright and squinted in the dim light to read the shaky words on the flimsy:
Dearest Han, You don’t deserve for this to happen, and all I can say is, I’m sorry. I love you, but I can’t stay …
Every day I wonder if I’m going to snap and take the next ship back to Ylesia. I’m afraid I’m not strong enough to resist—but I must resist.
I must face the fact that I am addicted to the Exultation, and that I must fight this addiction. I will need all my energy to do this and win, I’m afraid. I’ve been leaning on you for strength, but that’s not good for either of us. You need all your strength and determination to pass those tests and make it through the Academy.
Please don’t abandon your dream of becoming an officer, Han. Don’t be afraid to use the money I left. My father gave it to us freely, because he likes you and is grateful to you. Like me, he recognizes that you saved my life. Accept his gift, please. We both want you to succeed.
I’ve learned so much from you. How to love, how to be loyal and brave.
I’ve also learned how to find people who will help me change my identity, so don’t bother looking for me. I’m going away, and I’m going to beat this addiction. I’m going to do it if it takes my last measure of strength and courage.
You’ve been free all your life, Han. And strong. I envy you for that.
I’m going to be free someday, too. And strong.
Maybe then, we can meet again.
Try not to hate me too much for what I’m doing. I don’t blame you if you do, though. Please know that, now and forever, I love you …
Yours, Bria
Han made himself finish the letter all the way through. Each word burned its way into his mind like a laser torch. When he finished, he decided to go back and reread it, because he was trying to put off the moment when he’d have to start feeling and thinking again. While he was reading Bria’s flimsy, it was as if she were still here. He could almost hear her voice.
Han knew that the moment he stopped reading, she would be gone again.
But this time, although he squinted hard, he couldn’t make out the words.
They were too blurred.
“Honey,” he whispered to the letter, his throat so raw that he could barely force the words out, “you shouldn’t have done this. We were a team, remember?”