It's Friday the Thirteen—everyone go hide!

Or read this, and review please ;)


Chapter 2

Padmé's countenance was odd. Dormé and Cordé were sure of it. It couldn't just be that fact that it was Monday and it was 7:00 am. Padmé was always a morning person, so there must be something going on with her.

After Friday's party, they had barely seen her during the weekend. Padmé had stayed in their room all day and all night. Claiming she had a paper to do and also waiting for her boyfriend's call, which she told them, never came.

There were big noticeable purple shadows under her big eyes from a lack of sleep, her usually tan skin was looking somewhat pale after two days in which she didn't go out; her hair was a mess, her outfit was beyond simple; she didn't look at all like the Padmé Amidala they knew and loved.

She was once the queen in their high school, every tittle that she could've obtained, she got it. Always getting the majority of her classmates' votes. And now in collage, life hadn't been very different for Padmé.

She soon became the most popular girl in campus; she seemed to have it all: beauty, a hot and also popular boyfriend, wealth, and a bright future before her. Someone with so many qualities and privileges should always, or most of the time be smiling. And she always was. Was… was… was…

There was no smile in her pretty face that Monday.

"Padmé, we can't let you go out like that," Cordé said, standing between Padmé and the door.

"Why not?" Padmé asked, looking vaguely at her friend and roommate.

"Because you look like shit and people will look at you and know something is wrong."

Padmé's eyes widened. "There's nothing wrong—"

"Yeah, yeah; you said it. But we didn't believe you."

"I just…" Padmé muttered, shaking her head. "I didn't sleep very well these last couple of days—that's all."

"Missing your man, aren't you?" Dormé laughed. "Well, you're going to see him in a few hours so you have an even bigger reason to get yourself together."

Padmé suddenly looked changed. Her expression was one of fear, but thankfully, her roommates couldn't tell—they mistook the change for something else, something simpler.

"Ha! I knew that would work!" Dormé said and forced Padmé to go sit in front of her makeup table. "Come on, Cordé. This is a job for you, make our roommate pretty again."

Padmé let herself be handled as her friend put on her makeup; she let Dormé undress her and put her into something more becoming and less simple. Padmé had earlier put on gray sweat pants and a large T-shirt; now she was wearing a skin-tight blouse and a flowy and not too short brown skirt, all with simple yet pretty laced-black shoes. It wasn't her best look, but certainly an upgrade from her earlier one.


When there were twenty minutes to eight, Padmé seemed to finally wake up. The vague and void expression on her face left. Worrying about being late to class was a great relief, since it got her to not dwell on her other worry…

You're going to see him in a few hours…

Well, almost.

This was a class she hadn't been too excited about, no matter how nice the professor and her classmates had proven to be. It was a psychology course, and she had never been too interested in the subject. Today might be different, she told herself.

She walked into the classroom, calling everyone's attention, first because she was late, and secondly because, well, she was Padmé Amidala and people tended to stop and look at her.

"Miss Amidala," the professor said before she could sit down.

Damn, she thought as she artfully glanced at the watch on her wrist. She was twenty three minutes late. She thought that no matter how nice this professor had proven to be, he would kick her out of class for arriving so late.

"Professor Clovis…" she said, looking down. "I'm sorry. I am aware of how late I am… I—I have no excuse. I'll try to be on time next class…"

She had already turned her back on him, and she had made move towards the door, but the young professor stopped her with a word, in a tone of voice a million times kinder than she had expected.

"Miss Amidala," Professor Rush Clovis said. "You're here already. I would advise you to take a sit and pay attention. And of course, do not repeat such action." He smiled at her and she had no choice but to reciprocate with a faint grin on her face.

She sat all the way in the back, hoping to become invisible in the crowd of students. Hoping to have a moment of peace, while focusing only on Clovis and his class. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not pay him any attention. The same words rang repeatedly in her aching head: "I killed them. They're all dead! I killed them!"

You're going to see him in a few hours…

You're going to see him in a few hours…

She only realized the lecture was over when she looked up from her haunting thoughts and found that the classroom was almost empty and it was just her and the professor. She stood up, embarrassed, but Professor Clovis stopped her again.

"Padmé Amidala," he said, shaking his head. "I take it that you don't enjoy my lecture very much."

He was a very handsome man, in his mid-thirties; black hair, dark green eyes. His countenance was the elegance and class of an Englishman. He was very polite and nice, so it hurt Padmé to hear him say something like that—even when it was true.

"Forgive me, sir…"

"Call me Clovis," he said, surprising her. Even though she was no freshman, she still couldn't get use to the treatment she received from her professors, so different from her high school teachers.

"Mr. Clovis," was the best she could give him without feeling strange. "It's not you… it's just—I haven't been sleeping well lately."

"Oh, why?" again he surprised her with his interest.

"Oh I don't want to bother you with my problems… they're not even problems it's just…"

"Please," he stopped her. He put his hands on her shoulders and took her to his chair. She sat, not thinking much about it, and he leaned on his desk, watching her very closely. She figured since he was such a great smart and experienced man he knew what he was doing and that was not, or she should not see it as unusual.

Yet she was reluctant to speak, she could do anything except stare at the floor. She wasn't sure what he wanted from her.

Clovis put his fingers on her chin, forcing her to stare into his eyes.

"Now, why do you think you've been having troubles sleeping?"

She started shaking. "I—I had a nightmare a few days ago," she said, very quietly.

She found it very strange when he smiled broadly. "Good," he said. "That gives us a start. Would you mind sharing your dream with me?"

She shook her head. "I don't remember it very well…"

He took her hands in his own. "I just want to help you, Padmé."

"Why?"

"I'm a psychologist. I'm naturally curious about the human mind and human behaviors."

Is he thinking of me like I was an experiment? She thought, almost annoyed. But perhaps, Clovis could actually help her.

She had convinced herself that the words she couldn't stop hearing in her head came from an awful nightmare, induced by her drunken self that Friday night. There was no way that actually happened…

"I dreamt a stranger called me, endlessly, without ever saying anything…"

"And?" he pressed when she stopped talking for some moments.

"Then when he spoke at last… he confessed a crime. A murder."

"Okay. Was the caller someone you knew?"

"No," she quickly denied.

"Interesting. Have you ever had a dream like that?"

"No."

"Have you any clue as to what caused it?"

She wasn't even embarrassed to admit it. She wanted to end the conversation as soon as possible. "I was really drunk."

His kind and comforting smile was erased. "Oh, I see."

There came a strange silence.

Padmé would've stood up to leave him, but he was blocking the way.

"I thought you were different…" he said at last.

"Professor?"

"You're brilliant, Padmé. I had higher expectations of you…."

He stared at her long enough to make her uncomfortable.

"It's not something I usually do," she lied. Why? Well, his scrutinizing gaze was burning her skin, making her feel like a naughty child. Her lie worked perfectly because his kind smile returned.

"Maybe you shouldn't get drunk again," he offered as advice.

"I assure you, I won't be doing that any time soon."

You're going to see him in a few hours…

You're going to see him in a few hours…

You're going to see him in a few hours…

"Padmé?" he asked, shaking her arm softly.

"What?" she muttered.

"You seemed to be very into your thoughts," he said. "And you were quiet for a few minutes."

"I was?" she was shocked. And embarrassed. Ugh! She felt so strange. I need to act normal, she told herself. Why was that suddenly so hard?

"I'm sorry," it's all she could think to say.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he said, softly. "I was very entertained imagining your thoughts."

She didn't know why she found that statement so strange. It was at that moment that she realized he still had her hands between his own. Awkwardly she tried to pull away, but he didn't let her.

"If you ever need to talk to someone," he said, his voice turning into a whisper, the lower tone of voice causing him to put his face closer to hers, allowing her to feel his breath on her skin. "I'm here for you, Padmé."

Was that… seduction in his voice? Impossible! Padmé told herself. He's a teacher and I'm the student. He'll never think of it… but oh dear God his face was almost brushing against her hair…!

This is so inappropriate! I have to stop it…

"Padmé?" she heard someone at the door, causing her heart to stop for a few moments. "Professor Clovis?"

"Dormé!" Padmé cried.

The sight of another presence forced Clovis to step away from his student. He let out a long breath of air, picked up his papers and suitcase, gave a goodbye, and fled.

When he was gone, Padmé also breathed out, her flushed face becoming rested. She stood up and finally looked at her friend.

""Let's go," she said, feeling her friend's questioning eyes directly.

"Padmé," Dormé said, her surprise leaving her and her laugh finding her carefree voice. "What the fuck?"

Padmé turned crimson. "What?"

"Were you about to kiss Professor Clovis?"

"What?" she snapped. "Of course not!"

"I'm sorry," Dormé giggled again. "But it sure looked like it!"

"You're imagining things," Padmé looked down. "He's a teacher… he never would… I have a boyfriend!" she cried.

You're going to see him in a few hours…

You're going to see him in a few hours…

"Okay," Dormé accepted. "But those things don't prevent you from kissing that hot old man."

Padmé hated her for a second. "Of course they do—Dormé, you're such a slut!"

The girl laughed at the insult. "I never denied it. I least I have fun."

Padmé turned her back on her and left the classroom. Dormé went after her.

"You don't want to know why I was looking for you?" Dormé said, narrowing her eyes.

"No," Padmé walked faster.

"Fine," she said and continued to walk next to Padmé, having to race to actually keep up with her. "Okay, I'll tell you," she later said.

"I don't care," Padmé said, scornfully.

"You got a call," Dormé said and immediately Padmé stopped moving.

Padmé stood facing her, hating life more that her friend at the moment.

"Who?" she asked.

"Actually," Dormé corrected. "You got about a million calls."

"Goddamn it, just say it."

"It wasn't your boy—err fiancé."

She was too tired to yell at her for getting on her nerves.

"First," Dormé said. "His sister called." She was talking about Ahsoka, Anakin's adoptive sister. "Then, his Uncle Qui-Gon."

"Uh?" Padmé wasn't expecting them of all people. "And Anakin?"

"No."

Her heart started to race. She had been dreading hearing his voice again, and now she would give anything to hear him, no matter in which state or what words he said.

Her stupid dream had gotten her thinking foolish things that could never happen.

"Did something happen to him?" she cried, her voice shaking, tears streaming down her face, and her legs trembling.

"I don't know," Dormé said, quietly and without expressing any emotion.

Padmé ran to her house, leaving Dormé standing and speaking to herself.

When she entered the place she almost stumbled a dozen times on the long staircase, she actually scratched her knee, but she ignored the physical pain, as a deeper one was starting to kill her.

When she was on her room she destroyed her desk as she tried to find her phone book, then she ran for the phone. It trembled in her hands.

First she called Mr. Qui-Gon, and he didn't answer.

Then she called Shmi Skywalker, and there was also no answer.

Growing desperate, she threw herself on the floor and sobbed, imagining the worst.

Like that she stayed for a long time, till to her great surprise, the phone in her room rang.

"Anakin?" she cried before the caller could speak.

"No, Padmé," she heard and the person speaking was crying.

"Ahsoka?" Padmé was disappointed but relieved at the same time. "What's going on?" she dreaded to hear the answer.

When the teenager managed to get herself together and actually speak, she just caused Padmé to be in a similar nervous state. "Is Anakin alright?" Padmé quickly asked.

Tears prevented the teenager from speaking coherently. After a long time, she said: "Mother's dead!"

The phone in Padmé's hand finally fell into the floor.


AN: No romance or horror in this chapter :(

The next ones are filled with that so I hope you can wait.

And oh yeah, Clovis is in this, and he's British for no reason… I will just give a hint and say he is NOT the first one to be murdered.

Thanks for reading!