Growing Up Solo

Chapter Thirty

Snoke snorted in contempt. "That may be true." He agreed, "But, you will believe me. Of that, I assure you."

"No," Ben began again, shaking his head and glaring up at the hooded figure, opening his mouth to protest more. Instead, Snoke raised a pale, wrinkled hand, outstretching it towards Ben. "What...?" Ben began, but that's all he managed to get out before his head exploded with pain.

It felt as if cold hands had somehow reached into his head, ripped opened his brain, and began to draw out each memory that he had to examine it. He saw himself playing with Artoo. He saw his parents, his dad looking at his mom like she ruled his world. He saw his dad showing him how to fix things, saw his dad giving plastic ships to play with. Every birthday. Every happy moment, sad moment, even the boring moments.

All of it flashed before his eyes.

Then, the pain began intensifying, the memories began to morph and change. No longer were there happy memories. Some memories disappeared entirely, while others changed into something completely different. Each change that was created felt like a dagger was being stabbed repeatedly into his head, and he couldn't even see reality anymore. Just those changing memories.

It seemed to take years. Distantly, Ben was aware that someone was screaming—that he was screaming, squirming, trying to get away from the hand that was causing this pain to happen. But finally, as he reached the memories of him killing his mother, the pain began to crescendo, new memories forming in his head, until finally...

The world went black, and as he fell into the dark oblivion, the new memories swirling and throbbing in his brain, he felt something within him snap, something important, something...
He couldn't remember what, and darkness swallowed him, claiming him, before he could care enough to figure out what had just happened.

-

His dreams were full of flying through the stars with his father and his ship. He felt free. He was in control. As long as he could fly, he could do anything.

Soon, though, the dreams began to fade, and he was floating in in darkness. Wake up, someone was saying. It was a familiar voice, but he couldn't put a finger on whose it was. Wake up, Ben. Slowly, the darkness began to fade, replaced by a blinding white light. He squinted painfully, trying to adjust his eyesight. It took a while, but he eventually managed to clear his vision and finally see around him.

He was in a clean, white room. He lay on a large, comfortable bed, alone. He wore a plain blue shirt, and black sweats. Next to him, on the side table, were his old clothes, folded neatly, though they were still coated in dirt. He was hooked up to some machines of some sort, machines he didn't recognize. Slowly, he sat up, frowning as he looked around the room. He didn't remember how he'd gotten there, or where he was, or why he was even there. As he tried to think back, a sudden wave of pain hit his head, and he gasped, reaching up to gingerly touch his forehead.

With the pain beginning to fade, he decided to try to remember once the throbbing in his head stopped, and he reached over to his pajamas to try to figure out if he could come up with answers just by examining them.

A memory flashed. His mother, in danger. A man stood there, wearing black clothes, like the ones he was touching holding her, a lightsaber to her neck. The held the red lightsaber in his right hand, a strong grip around Leia's neck with his left arm. Ben focused on the scenery. The Jedi Academy...and his mother's stomach was still swollen, indicating she was still carrying Jaina.

The memory sent a fresh wave of agony, both through his head, but mostly through his heart. As if the clothes were on fire, he threw them across the room, breathing hard and shaking. His mother had always been kind to him, had always loved him. And, his father...