𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐄 » 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗇

𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

HER EYES OPENED TO THE HUMMING OF MECHANICS.

But not the good type. It wasn't the familiar humming of the Razor Crest, oh no, it was of torturous devices situated in the rooms around hers.

Her head throbbed, her body sluggish with sleep. Thankfully, her helmet was still on.

The stone room had no windows, only plain walls, a thin bed — which was a mattress on the ground and it was dark, dingy and cold. No one was around, and there was no noise of the outside world, which made her scared. The intense fear of abandonment and loneliness settled upon her, sheltering her cold body like a uncomfortable blanket.

Slowly, she sat up, off the thin bed, all her weapons and armour off of her body, making her feel bare and unprotected, defenceless against anyone who came in. She felt vulnerable.

At least they allowed her helmet to stay on.

Her chest tightened, walking over to a wall, pressing her ear against it trying to hear something. Faeyth banged against it, hoping people could her. But no one came. She then started screaming for someone, and again, no one came.

With a frightened expression, she ran to the door, slamming her fists onto it, and hollering for someone, anyone to help her. She begged and pleaded, but no one came.

Faeyth turned away, fighting tears, biting her lip enough to draw blood as she paced back and forth, mumbling to herself, wanting nothing more than to be out of there. She knew she would end up back here eventually, but god did she miss the company of the Mandalorian and Grogu. Then remembered how the child had been taken, and so had she. She looked at her hands, that were in cuffs, which were too small for her, pinching her wrists uncomfortably. She knew that if she tried to use the force, she would get electrocuted, badly.

It took all her courage not to breakdown and panic.

She repeated the same few phrases while pressing herself into the corner of the room, curling into a ball and starting to cry. The feeling of helplessness and fear embedded itself in her body, her mind making up possibilities of how she were to die in here, in the process of insanity.

She held herself and cried, cried until she lost her voice.

Then, Faeyth went quiet, too tired to weep helplessly, voice far too hoarse to shout. The silence was torturous, and all she could do is sit with her own racing, terrified thoughts and be consumed by them. She wondered when someone would come. She wondered if he would ever come back for her, or he had he just left without her or the kid. She wondered if he tried to rescue her already, and failed.

What if he was dead? A tiny voice whispered in the back of her head.

No, no, don't be stupid, he's a Mandalorian, she thought, however the impending fear of being alone swallowed her up, a yearning to cry, she could feel it in her chest, yet no tears fell.

What felt like years later, the door opened, Faeyth perking up with hope, sitting up from her spot on the mattress, only for it to be crushed when a guard walked in. He noticed her figure in the corner and advanced over, his gun aimed at her.

The same tall, lean man entered the room and she knew that this was the time for her punishment. Her mind was fuzzy and hazy, still groggy with whatever they injected her with. She wobbled to her feet, leaning against the wall before staggering toward him. Her eyes were full of hatred and anger, "You're an asshole."

His eye twitched, lips curling into a cruel smirk, "You're not going anywhere now. We have you here and here to stay."

She was grabbed harshly, thrown to the ground, vaguely remembering her cloak being taken off, leaving her just in her plain black clothes. She was kicked in the stomach, knocking the air out of her: there was definitely going to be a bruise there. A low humming of electricity filled her ears as something excruciating was held on her stomach.