The heat from the lava outside flickers against the walls, casting long, angry shadows across the room. You sit on the floor, cuffed, arms resting in your lap, face turned away from the door. The food he brought earlier sits untouched by the wall. You couldn't force yourself to eat, not when you feel like a ghost trapped in someone else's life.

The door crashes open, and Anakin steps inside. His eyes burn with frustration the moment they land on the untouched food.

"You're still not eating," he says sharply.

You don't answer. You don't even look at him. In a second, he's in front of you. His hand grabs your jaw, firm and unyielding, forcing you to meet his eyes. His fingers dig into your skin.

"You think staying quiet will change anything?" he growls. "You think not being her makes a difference?" His voice shakes, not with weakness, but something darker. "You were her sister. Her twin. The way you look at me- it's the same. I see her in you."

You flinch, trying to pull away, but he doesn't let go.

"I lost her," he breathes. "I'm not losing you." He leans in close, his grip tightening just enough to sting.

"You belong to me now." When he finished those words, you knew he had gone mad.

He didn't want you.

He wanted Padmé.

And you were the closest thing he had left.