"Cad!" the young Duros woman screamed. "Cad, don't look! Stay in your room, baby!"

The tall, dark figure that stood larger than life with the belt in his hand, whipped it across the woman's face. Her pale green blood sprayed the dirt wall.

"I said shut up, you stupid woman!" her husband shouted.

The woman's face was full of her own blood. She clutched the 4-month old infant in her womb, as her eyes looked toward her son on the other end of the room. He was hugging his scabbed knees, trying not to cry, staring terrified up at the man he was forced to call his 'Father'. This brute was anything but. She never should have given herself to him, but it was much too late now. She had been so foolish. How could this man be the father of her son? Her beautiful son whom she loved so much.

"Cad, baby," she cried out to her son again, choking on her own blood.

The 7-year old boy flinched and discovered his back was pinned up against the wall. Father was hitting Mother again, hurting her, making her bleed, making her cry. He hated to hear his mother cry. Why wouldn't Father stop? Surely Father would stop hurting her now—didn't Father love Mother too?

"When I'm finished with you, the little runt's next! The more you talk, the more he gets it!" Father shouted.

The little boy found himself beginning to cry, no matter how much he had tried to hold back the sobs. He could already feel that horrible belt lashing his face.

His mother held back another scream. She had to be strong, for her son. The belt cut open her stomach. The infant inside her was bleeding, dying; she felt it. One last time, she looked up and saw her son—he was the spitting image of his father, with dark-blue skin and furious crimson eyes. She felt her strength giving out as the baby inside her died.

No, she pleaded. As the belt whipped at her pale, thin legs, she thought of her son. Her only son. The only joy she had ever had in life—the only gift she had been given. Be strong, my son. Don't be afraid of your father; he can't control you. Don't let him like I did. Be strong, Cad.

She sucked in her last breath.

Four years ago—and Cad still couldn't erase the memory of watching his mother die right in front of him. Father had said you were worthless, you were nothing. Then when he was 10 years old, the dark strangers took him away to the black, intense, and filthy place they called Coruscant. They had said he would be living in "a boys' home" from now on, "where they would take care of him and teach him how to protect himself". He had never wanted to come here; he wanted to go home. Sometimes his mother would put his hand on her womb, and he would feel his little brother kicking inside there. It had taught young Cad two important things: 1) women have wonderful, invisible things inside them, and 2) new life is beautiful. But now, he was beginning to hate life.

"Stupid runt!" the headmaster hollered. He grabbed the young Duros by the front of his shirt and yanked him up. "What do you think you were doing, you stupid thing? What's the matter with you?"

Even now, Cad could still feel his father's cold, bloody belt, that constant symbol of worthlessness, power, and death. He knew he still carried the scars on his face and back—he didn't know those scars would stay there for the rest of his life.

"S-sir," Cad stammered, trying to find his voice, "it wasn't my fault. They said th-they were going to beat me up. They were gonna kill me if I didn't—didn't…"

"If what? C'mon, enough with the stammering! I'm sick of it!"

"If they couldn't have my, my…"

"Don't test me, little rat," the headmaster snarled.

"If they couldn't have my ten credits," he said.

The headmaster loosened his grip a little, but not much.

"So, you gavethem your credits?" he asked, almost incredulously.

"No, they took it. They were g-gonna kill me."

At that, the headmaster, as if disgusted, threw the Duros to the black floor.

"Listen here, peedunkey," he hissed, pointing his finger at Cad, "they didn't take your cash; you gave it to them. You never give what's rightfully yours to someone else. Boil it down to this, and you'll se that all that matters in life is your credits. Credits can't get sick and die; they never betray you. They're all you need to survive out there on your own, and by learning to fight, you can protect them. When you figure that you, you stupid son of a whore, you won't have to worry about those bullies anymore. Understand?"

At that final insult, something ignited in Cad. He had felt it four years ago, as he listened to his mother's painful cries for the last time. Something in him had wanted to wring his own father's neck; now he wanted to do the same to the headmaster. In a sudden fit of rage, he jumped to his feet and punched the headmaster in the nose, then kicked him in the stomach.

The headmaster, not expecting the attack, tumbled to the floor, as the young Duros shouted with fury boiling in his bright crimson eyes,

"My mother was not a whore!"

The headmaster's advice, however, was the best advice anyone ever gave to him.