The Devil's Touch | Kylo Ren

EIGHTEEN

The greatest betrayal is summoned only by the hands of sacrifice. There are so many ways in which someone can prove their bravery, whether it be by fighting for what makes them weak, or giving it up for the sake of becoming stronger without it. 

The Sister's weakness is only burdened by the sufferings mounted, hand-in-hand with the very person who had the ability to make her knees tremble, heart quake and breath wane – though, she's tired of the torment which comes with the burning pain of devotion, and with knowing that she will forever hold onto Kylo's heated hands of flames, she needs someone else to pull her away before she too, lights on fire. 

So, when the devil had sent up a cruel man who had the same amount of untainted violence coursing through his veins, as was Kylo's poisoned blood – she soon realised that there was only two ways in which she could fight or please the conflict buried in her heart – either to react with ignorance to her heart's adoration, which would follow Kylo Ren out of White-Ivy and lead a life of neutralised slaughter, or to ignore her sullen heart's love, and iniquitously seek to find another hand of suffering, to fight her own battles for her. 

Father Hux was prepared by all means, to keep the Sister beneath the same holy ceilings as him, as was he certain that he would never let a looney slip out of his halls – hence, when the young Sister had told him a clandestine with the voice of a timid angel, that her keys had gotten into the hands of Patient 727, who was pressuring her to meet by the statue at midnight, he rewarded her for seeking his guide and turning back to the light.

The priest had held her shoulders with his long fingers of credence, though his nails were the claws dipped in degeneracy, scratching at the material of her clothes, wondering just how many bumps and shivers were littering her soft skin beneath it as she tried to hold back tears – and why she was crying, was the only thing that snapped him back to his harsh, formative thinking in which is always stringing words and acts together, to find what could be corruptly going on behind his back. 

Something was not right. Perhaps, her lips were tight and she wasn't only holding back tears, but also the truths that could be seen within them. The young Sister was like a helpless child, one in which Hux presumes that if she had no dominie or master, she would be an orphan who freezes on a cold park bench, waiting through the trudge of snowy days with an imbecilic hope that someone would one day come and save her. 

As he had watched her walk back to her quarters, with the promise that they would see each-other in a few short, ominous hours – The Father had wondered what she was like when she was a child, was her previous guardians overprotective and never left her unattended to fall and become scratched with the grazes of childhood , or was she always as recklessly innocent as she was now?

When a child of God grows older, they get stronger – but the Sister lacked the wit that comes with experience which acts as a survival warning around danger, and yet, she only seems to be easily lead by peril and only flees whenever she deservingly gets punished for ignorantly being attracted by the dark in the first place.

Father Hux's utter evilness which lives in his heart is snapping its drooling jaw, preparing to bite into the void and the demons in which are walking out of the shadows with an outstretched hand, motioning the angel of God in. 

He will teach her with fragility and severity until she finally learns to do what she is told with the utmost compliance – for that was Hux's job, to enlighten those with dark eyes, such as her lying ones. 

When the clocks of White-Ivy all click to midnight, the time in which Eve had been dreading, has finally arrived with only one tick of a hand, and one embrace of another to come. Her nerves are frayed and electric, sending spurts of anxious and guilty shocks into her blood and sending shivers along every inch of her cold skin.