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Fear twisted around Ezra’s throat like a rope. He and Maul had barely seen or spoken to each other since what had happened the night before last. He felt like he was standing on a ledge over a steep drop as he sat there quietly, waiting to see if Maul was still angry. He wanted to apologize, to promise that he wouldn’t do it again, but he couldn’t find the words. And he knew that speaking out of turn might just land him in more trouble, even if it was an apology.
“I think it’s best if we put what happened behind us,” Maul said.
He set down a cup of water on the table in front of Ezra. Ezra took it, desperate for even one tiny sip of water after spending so long locked away. He was just glad that Maul was willing to move past it.
“I think you understand that what you did was wrong,” Maul said. “Don’t you?”
Ezra hurriedly put the glass down, nearly dropping it in his rush to answer Maul’s question.
“Y—yes, sir,” Ezra said. “And I—I’m sorry. It won't happen again.”
His voice broke as he said it, his gaze dropping to the floor as shame blossomed in his chest. Maul had taken him in, protected him, and after everything he’d done, Ezra had broken one of the few rules that had been set.
“I’m sure it won't,” Maul said. There was something strange about his voice. Some kind of…distortion?
Ezra’s vision began to grow fuzzy, and a sharp tingling feeling spread across his skin. His eyes darted toward the cup of water that he’d set down. He tried to stand up, only for his knees to give out beneath him. Maul caught him before he could fall, his grip making Ezra’s arms ache.
The next thing Ezra knew, he was lying face down on a hard, flat surface. He felt Maul’s hand press against his forehead. Something warm spread through his head and suddenly his mind cleared. He was in the workroom, lying on the table in the middle of the room. He tried to raise his head, but he couldn’t move. An invisible force was pressing down on him, pinning him down just as effectively as restraints could.
From where Ezra lay, he could see Maul pick up a knife and bring it to his own palm. He slashed the knife across his skin, letting a small trickle of blood spill into a bottle of some black liquid that almost looked like ink.
Ezra whimpered as Maul grabbed his wrist, rotating his arm until his palm was facing up.
“Wh—what are you doing?” Ezra asked. He could barely move his mouth, and the words came out in a faint, terrified whisper.
“Making sure you learn your lesson,” Maul said. “Permanently.”
Ezra cried out as the needle stabbed against his skin, leaving the black ink its wake. His skin burned like alcohol poured into an open wound. The pain grew worse and worse with each jab of the needle.
Ezra screamed, trying to pull away from Maul’s grip. But he couldn’t move his arm, and every time he tried, that crushing force would press down harder on him.
“P—please,” Ezra said, his voice breaking. “S—s—stop.”
Maul ignored his plea, continuing to stick the needle into Ezra’s palm over and over as he screamed.
Finally, at long last, the stinging of the needle against his skin stopped, and Ezra dared to hope that it was finally over.
Ezra cried out as Maul grabbed his chin, forcing his jaw open and shoving a rag into his mouth before picking up the needle again. Ezra screamed once more as the needle was stuck into his skin, his cries now muffled as the pain grew more intense with each jab.
By the time Maul stopped, Ezra was sobbing. He keened quietly as Maul circled him, grabbing his other arm and pinning his hand down, palm-up.
It burned just as much as his right hand had as Maul stuck the needle into Ezra’s skin, leaving the black ink in its wake.
Ezra knew hours must have passed by the time Maul let go of his arm. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for more pain.
Please, he thought, a quiet whimper escaping past the rag in his mouth. Please stop. I’m sorry.
He yelped as Maul grabbed his hair, pulling at it and exposing the back of his neck. Ezra’s eyes snapped open, going wide as he realized what was about to happen. He struggled against the invisible force holding him down. Once again, it only pressed down harder.
Ezra’s breath came in short sharp gasps through his nose as the needle jabbed into the back of his neck. He screamed as the burning pain spread across his skin with each stab of the needle. Maul ignored his cries, as if he couldn’t hear Ezra at all.
Ezra’s vision began to blur, and he didn’t know if it was because of the tears or the pain. Darkness formed at the edges of his vision, slowly closing in around him.
A sharp pain, even worse than that of the needle, burst through Ezra’s mind, like claws sinking into him, grabbing hold of him and refusing to let him go. Through the haze of pain and terror he vaguely recognized it as Maul, forcing that creeping darkness away and dragging Ezra back from the brink of unconsciousness.
Ezra whimpered again, silently pleading with Maul to just let him pass out until this was over. But Maul wanted him awake to feel this.
At long last, the feeling of the needle against his skin stopped. The burning pain in both his palms and the back of his neck flared, drawing another muffled scream from his lungs, before it subsided, leaving only a dull ache.
Pressure lifted off of Ezra’s chest as the force holding him down to the table vanished. His head was spinning as Maul removed the rag from his mouth and gripped his arm, helping him to sit up.
Ezra stared down at his hands and the identical black marks that were now tattooed on his palms. They were two concentric circles, with small lines connecting them. Within the inner circle was a strange design that looked almost like a knot, two diagonal lines sprouting from it and reaching back to the outer circles, like an X, crossing something out.
Ezra flinched as Maul grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up into his eyes.
“You will never be able to use your magic against me again,” Maul said. His grip tightened for a moment before he released Ezra, who dropped his gaze to where his feet were dangling several inches off the floor.
“I—I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to –”
“Go to your room,” Maul snapped.
Ezra quickly slid off of the table and bolted from the room, running down the hallway back to his room. Once the door was closed behind him, he leaned back against it, tears trickling down his cheeks as he stared down at the tattoos on his palms.
He hadn’t meant to attack Maul. He was just scared and had wanted Maul to stop hitting him. He hadn’t even realized he was doing anything until Maul was slamming against the wall on the other side of the room.
He should have known better. He was more than old enough to control his powers. He should have just accepted his punishment like he’d done dozens of times before. He knew he deserved it, anyway. Maul had told him over and over that an apprentice would couldn’t follow simple directions wasn’t worth being taught, that a weak and disloyal apprentice was barely worth keeping alive in the first place. But still Ezra had hesitated when Maul decided it was time to test his loyalty.
Ezra jumped as he heard the scrape of the lock on the other side of the door. He quickly wiped his tears away, as if Maul could see them.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice just loud enough to carry through the door.
There was no response.