𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

    All around her were tall and shiny black walls, some accessorized in white lights. Her hair swished as she turned her head both left and right. They looked identical–both leading to a turn. Which way was she supposed to run?

    But her question wasn't unanswered for long. Heavy footsteps echo down the hall, coming from the right end of the hall. Astrid's stomach churned as she quickly moved her feet in the opposite direction of the incoming footsteps.

    Her head spun with thoughts, one prominent one was, how does she leave this night terror? She was so done with these games, all she wanted was a peaceful rest. Her eyes began to burn with building tears. A ball of frustration builds in her throat as she takes the turn only to find a similar hallway.

    Her legs began to feel a small burn as her feet hauled her further down the hall, the heavy footsteps behind her not stopping. Quickly glancing over her shoulder, her heart began to race as she saw the figure that was chasing her, the built-up tears sliding down her smooth skin.

    They were terrifying. A shiny black mask covered their face, carved into their facial features. If side by side, Astrid knew he'd tower over her. But she noticed one thing that made her heart beat even faster.

    The chestplate technology.

    It was part of the suits from her previous night terrors. Was Anakin under the mask?

    Astrid wasn't keen on finding out, so that brief moment glance at the towering man only encouraged her to move faster. Her lungs screamed for some relief, leg muscles on fire from the constant motion, the corset tied around her ribs digging into her skin from each rigid breath–her body wanted to stop.

    But she didn't.

    The thick skirt of her ball gown blew behind her, she cursed at herself for putting it on, it added so much weight. Her hair copied the dress's motion, sweeping over her bare shoulders and onto her back. She was thankful for the lack of shoes on her feet, heels would've made things much harder.

    "You can't run forever, my flower," a garbled voice comes from behind the running girl. Astrid had paid no mind to any sounds other than her heartbeat and his footsteps, but now that she was pulled from that gaze, she heard the same mechanical breathing from her very first nightmare.

    "Like hell I can't," Astrid mutters under her breath, arms lifting the heavy and thick skirt of her dress. The drag of it on the ground only slowed her down. The tears falling from her eyes slightly blurred her vision. Every hall looked the same.

    "Baby, you're wearing yourself out for no reason. Just stop running," his voice becoming more cold and demanding. Before, though it was strange, it was soft, almost teasing, but now, whoever it was, they were getting angry.

    Astrid didn't waver at the shift in tone. Her fate was sealed if she stopped running, so might as well try to get the hell out of wherever she was. "Please be a doorway or something," Astrid pleads in a quiet whisper as she makes another turn.

    However, it seemed like the galaxy was laughing at her, taunting her, using her for entertainment. In front of her was a duo of troops, much like the Clone troopers the Republic had. But there was something wrong with them.

    Their weapons were aimed directly at her. This wasn't the troops she was thinking about. Her feet slid to a stop, legs wobbly from the exertion. Her breath came out loud as she struggled to take in any air, resulting in the constant rise and fall of her chest that just so happened to be constricted by a corset.