Cruel Destiny | Kylo Ren

The Resistance

My eyelids dragged down as if a hundred coins were sitting above them but I finally pulled enough strength within to open them once more. For the first time in forever, I had woken to lights that weren't piercing white and almost blinding. The slits of illumination above were still somewhat bight, but this time they were almost a yellow tone, nothing I was used to.

The air had a perfumed scent and every surface was dustless. Curtains surround the right side of the room, the other side only a bare window, showing the edge of the galaxy. The floor was slate grey which matched the walls. Examining the polystyrene tiled ceiling, I could hear moans from an adjacent bed behind the curtain.

I think for a moment that Kylo was worthy enough to get his own private hospital room, but I hadn't yet earned that privilege nor will I ever as a man coughed and spluttered cursing words at his pain behind a thin, mesh curtain that was split between me and a stranger.

Whimpering beneath my breath and clenching my eyes closed only to reopen them once more, but this time without a hazy overlay, I lifted my arms up to find one wrapped in a thick and white cast and the other attached to a drip—the needle forced under my skin, silvery and jabbing into my muscle as I moved it.

My abdomen ached and my legs were impossibly numb. Someone could cut them off and I wouldn't feel a thing. I was exhausted. Looking down to them, I struggled to tell my brain to move my toes beneath the sheets and although I couldn't feel them doing so, they still moved hesitantly under the thin cloth.

Tearing the sheet lower with my arm that was caged in a cast, I assessed the damage. My heart dropped and tears flooded to my eyes. There is no blood anywhere but my abdomen was purple and lumpy where it should've been smooth. When I started gasping for air, the muscle felt like it had been torn to shreds. My stomach was smaller. A deep scar was stapled together horizontally from one hip bone and to the other.

I thought the pain from before was unbearable, but now this certain pain was so excruciating in my heart that the name should tear itself away from its reason and categorise it as a form of torture instead.

I gasped in the hospital room and scratched my cold and rigid fingers along the tender flesh, almost hoping that my child is still in there somewhere, but my skin was only soft beneath the violent violets.

In that moment of loss, all the stars outside the window collapsed. Where there was yellow light above, became only shadows of hands that reached out for my child.

The torture ricocheted up my spine and sunk its teeth into my pounding heart. The heart monitor beside me suddenly started alarming disturbance, but I couldn't hear its cries above my own.

Where was my child? Had The First Order already gotten their hands onto my child? I spluttered and almost choked on the wet tears that seep through my lips and into the bone-dry feeling in my mouth; which ached when I tried swallowing. My ribcage constricted into itself a little tighter, my breathing becoming more difficult as I craved solitude all while the man behind the curtain only cried louder over my own wails.

I'm so scared and misplaced that I only wished to set the clock on the wall backwards a few hours so I could say goodbye to Kylo before he left for duty. Drink in his smile, bask in his honey eyes and feel his hands all over my swelled up body. But now, I was a mess of crimson and purple, which I knew would take a while to heal—not wishing to be touched when he eventually walked into the room, hopefully with my child in his hands—but I knew Kylo Ren would never show the newborn as much warmth as he hesitantly did to me.

Only it isn't Kylo who walked first into the hospital room, pulling the certain back and greeting me with a closed smile. Though it wasn't the familiar face I wished to see, I still distantly recalled that face from the brief, cloudy moment where I had woken up during surgery.