The Devil's Touch | Kylo Ren

EIGHTEEN

As she walks down the empty and eerily dark halls towards the secluded entrance of the manor, she flicks her eyes up to every passing clock on the wall and wishes that she could smash her fist into the glass face and either pull the time backwards or at least halt the dawn of a new day of supposed freedom, from ebbing its gradual way into a sombre night of treachery.

Heart beating fast, deep down Eve knows that it was not Kylo Ren, who was to fault for the death of her faith – it was only her own. She had willingly done all that he had wished, and when it came to the final request of escaping their boundaries she knew that she couldn't refuse, but neither did she desire to follow him through the gap in the fence.

She hadn't told Father Hux about the hole in the silver, chain-link fence – nor did she speak about the uttering of a plan to leave, for that would lead in further punishment than deserved. 

But both Kylo Ren and her, truely deserved to be punished – they deserved to perish in the burning flames of hell, only to rise back up to the mortal world as flickering embers that would die a thousand times over in the winter made by the Lord's gracious angels. 

The Sister felt a stab of sadness plague her insides in a distasteful, torturous way and for a split moment, she wondered if betraying Kylo is a crueler form of punishment than anything Father Hux could reprimand either of them with. She had begged the Father to not discipline the patient, for it was her fault that she had accidentally left her keys on the dining table and had not realised that he had taken them, before it was too late... and although Hux had promised her, she couldn't stop whatever he did behind her back, and he had never been the one to keep a promise. 

When she reaches the conjunction which leads straight to the ceramic Virgin Mary, Eve stops in her tracks before turning down the left hall, and blows out an exasperated and shaky breath. In the deadly silence of midnight, even her heartbeat seems to have stopped working as she frets that what she had done, wasn't for the best. Perhaps, a life outside of White-Ivy could have truely been wonderful, and she would have been just like those women on the street which she envied, walking with her hand curled around Kylo's bicep with a cheery smile perched on her cherry-red lips, hair blowing in the wind – that was the life she had always wanted, wasn't it? 

There's still time – the devil is whispering with malice and mischief upon her shoulder of ways in which she can still escape and become young, wild and free with the man that has captured her heart... but that was just it, there was no liberty when it came to Kylo Ren, either. He had managed to catch her so eloquently, despite his raging sickness, and Eve knows deep down, that he was not the kind to simply walk down the street with a beautiful woman on his arm, for he would only lead them into a dark ally to slit her neck and tear his claws through her hair.

The future was unforeseeable, but there was no denying that either way, it was going to be dark and deadly. She has seemed to forgotten that light had even existed in a time before arriving to White-Ivy, and after Kylo Ren had taken over her mind, he had become everything she has ever wanted, when she had never even craved iniquitous relations before.

The pain still lurks, but it's easier to pretend it's not there than to acknowledge the horrors she has buried in the deepest parts of her mind, as she shakes it from her head and turns the corner with a saddened sigh. Kylo Ren wasn't good for her, and she wasn't good enough to fix him, for she was only encouraging his sinister tendencies with every lash and bruise his warm hands laid upon her yearning skin.

She was simply overwhelmed by the power of her emotions and taken by the wind of passionate tides, which carried her away from enlightenment and divinity. The Sister has to flick the devil off her shoulder and only listen to the voice in the back of her own mind, even if that type of thinking could land her a cozy place in one of the cells with shackled hands, with the labelling of Schizophrenia upon her own file – but at least that voice beats walking to the Virgin Mary alone, with this shattering of a heart in her hollow hands and fright trembling every single bone in her body.