The ghastly black shade of nightfall brought an ominous and eerie evocative to White-Ivy Manor.
The brickyards had been slayed with a purposeful chill, and the tall, barricaded windows, had been embellished with a slight glaze of mist – which although, it fogged up the outside world, it wasn't thick enough to muffle the screams from within.
Across the yards and through the gated fencing, is the east-wing, which though it is still connected by only a few hundred paces from the west – the difference between both sides, is a haunting drastic.
The young Sister had managed to battle the constant toss and turns of a restless night, but eventually, she manages to work through the west-wing's ongoing, howls and aggrieved cries, and falls into a deep sleep upon her new bed – where the mattress is so thin, the bruises in her spine often leave her wondering if there was even a purpose for the sheet of foam, which only moulded around the metal frames and slats beneath it.
She dreams of nightmares, where brown eyes hunt her from the shadows and long, white fingers snap her faith into tiny shards, only to then use those pointed edges to slice her undefiled flesh open, and bury her heart beneath murky, soiled dirt.
Suddenly, a thundering sound awoke her.
The Sister shivered, freezing in her own skin when her eyes shot open and searched for the glowing eyes from her dreams in the dark spaces of her room. The weather was peaceful this night, but there was still a slight rustle to the tall trees outside her small window. It could've been just another scream that she had heard, another harrowing and demonic roar from the west-wing – but just as she clung onto her scratchy and thin blanket, there was another round of banging... upon her door.
She gasped and all the hair on her body stood up for attention, even the little fly-aways upon her head of locks, where without the thick, black veil of her habit-attire, it cascaded around her frightened features.
Her heart began to beat louder than any deathly scream, but it shouted and thrashed in the cages of her chest, instead of the cells of White-Ivy. Still in the groggy state of waking up, she couldn't quite tell if this reality was another nightmare, and when the door began to slowly open, she somewhat expected the alluring but utterly insane, Kylo Ren to walk in.
The door croaked and scraped against the floors, which squeaked beneath the entry of polished shoes. Tears stung at her eyes, but in her frozen state, she made no effort to blink, nor wipe the water when it began to silently fall down her chilled cheeks. Knees hugged against her chest, she leaned back against the metal frame of her bed – which beneath her weight, made as much sound as the floors did, pointing her out in the shadows, even if the slight ray of moonlight, wasn't already magnifying upon her terror in the corner.
Squinting through the smog of black, she tries to identify the silhouette of a man, who had sharp shoulders and a tall, straight stance – two little voices in the back of her mind were already screaming a name, which became a traitorous battle to both sides, on whether to stay or run away from the patient who had so easily slipped into her dreams, as he had slipped into her mind, throughout the day too.
But then the figure steps into the haze of moonlight, which snuck through her window – and although her fears immediately flee from her body, a mere flow of somewhat slander of disappointment snuck in, only for a new, harsh emotion to then smack every other feeling away and shackle her tight with utter confusion.
Her hair, undone and tangled, curtained her face as strands stuck to her teary cheeks, which moved slow as she raised a brow and uttered into the darkness, "Father Hux?"
The Priest's eyes widened slightly, meeting the Sister's groggy stare. Father Hux was completely dressed in his usual attire of black drapes and a clerical collar around his pale neck, where in the moon's eerie illumination, his slicked back, orange hair almost blended into the white of his skin.
With icy-blue eyes running along the waves of her hair in the night, time seemed to suspend for a short moment, until Father Hux finally smiled and bowed his head meekly.
"My deepest apologies for waking you up so late in the night," He hushed and side-stepped along a creak in her floor, folding his arms behind his back and running his fingers along the silver of his pectoral cross.
Her cheeks went impossibly red and her stomach churned with mortification as she tried to hide her face behind her hair, which was only then pulled behind her ears as she watched the way he eyed the strands so anomalously – this was the first time anyone here had seen her without her veil, and out of all people it had to be the priest.
But he seems to ignore the immodesty, for he was the one, himself, that had walked into her tiny quarters so early in the dark morning of a cold, Friday – but the time of day never mattered to him, for he would simply reprise that the wicked do not sleep, and it is his duty to always shine a light in the dark.
He tilts his head slightly to the side, his eyes moving to the window instead of falling once more on her vulnerable state, "But would you mind getting dressed and accompanying me in the western ward? We seem to acquire your help." He said in a calm tone, almost lacking emotion completely but rather his words were hinted with a sense of urgency...
Her heart was pumping ice cold blood through her veins and chilling every inch of her skin with every vibrating echo that bounces off the walls of the west-wing as she follows Father Hux to wherever he leads her to. He hadn't said much after requesting her presence, but he rather nodded after she had obeyed to his request with a straight face, and erratic apprehensions.
With her mind running rampant to fill the blanks of her fears, wondering just what Father Hux needed her for, there wasn't a single slate of her tired and feeble mind, that wasn't anxiously forming terrifying scenarios – which are so ridiculous sometimes, that she might as well claim insanity and lock herself in the cages that she passes.
She felt as if she had no choice but to peel herself out of bed and quickly get dressed in her black veils, for not even the Lord appreciates incomprehensible weaklings – but with a gentle push of enlightenment, He may speak through the opening of clouds and whistles of cold wind, to which perhaps, He would say to pluck some courage and do the duty that many do not have the heart to complete... but what that duty was, was still left unanswered as they curled around a corner and began walking onwards into the halls of thrashing shouts and horrific screams.
Walking so shakily behind the quick pace of Hux, the young Sister almost felt shackled to him, and with every face that would peer through the tray slots of every cell-door, she moved closer to him. The trepidation ricocheted down her spine, like a clang of a thousand rocks being thrown upon her. With every step, she felt a tug at her heels, which painfully willed her to go back to her own cell, and hide beneath the scratchy blanket once more.
Eventually, Father Hux lead her straight into the mouth of the ward where only the most dangerous patients stayed, and preternaturally enough – it was the most quiet hall that they had tip-toed down.
Never in her stay at White-Ivy, did she think that she would ever step through the doors that lead to the home of a hundred of the worst people alive – the castaways of the Lord, Himself, who had now bestowed Father Hux and her, the struggle of turning them back to the light, before the darkness swallowed them whole and pulled them down to the depths of Hell, where they truely belonged.
If the air wasn't so cold, and the feeling in her chest wasn't so painfully tight, she would still presume this to be a terrible, but strange nightmare, for all at once, she knew where she was headed... and she hated the tenacious part of her soul, which forced her steps to slightly quicken.
Tall and sloped windows barricaded all around the manor, which depicts beautiful murals in the daylight, where the sun's bright rays usually sink through the coloured stained-glass,– but at night, the holy faces in the windows were swallowed up by the darkness and expelled an spectral gaunt to their kaleidoscopic glass, making it seem as if they were the true lifeless phantoms of the manor.
The lights flicker the deeper they walk into the smothering quiet. With only slight illumination to the halls, there was too much black around which made her eyes morph ahead of her, and see shadows in which were truely not there – the young Sister had solemnly sworn to herself, that she had already seen the silhouette of another man around every corner, and that the one ahead was just another trick being played on her tired mind, but the closer she and the Priest got to it, the more the light above casted upon the shapes in the distance.
When the cell doors began to thin out from the next, almost separating the patients further and further apart, it wasn't until the very last door, did a few guards mingle around – obviously awaiting the Priest, and her, to arrive.
"Any good news?" Hux spoke to the figures, who were still unfamiliar to the young Sister's eyes, until she finally met them in the glow of the light above, which sat at their heads like an almost, daunting halo.
There beneath the flickering light stood, two guards and Sister Darlot, who looked as white as a ghost, almost blending into the walls if it weren't for the pink upon her cheeks.
"No –" The guard beside Darlot shook his head and said, the same Guard who followed Kylo Ren wherever he went. Tilting his head then to Darlot, he scowled, "He's still putting up a fight. Wouldn't even let the girl look at it."
Guard Roberts was an older man, the wrinkles among his face was the first give-away, but the lifeless look in his bland eyes were another. He's tall, but lacks the bulk which a large majority of his colleges have. Roberts was the very epitome of authority with his unloaded gun hanging idly at his hip, and his baton connected to his belt, which he had proved on numerous occasions, that he wasn't afraid to use.
Many had whispered about him since the youngest of the group in the dark hallway, had arrived – it was conjectured that before his time at White-Ivy, he was a reputable sergeant for a small county a few miles away, which had minimal crime, and apparently that was a clashing to his constant ticking for conflict, to which lead to the finding out that on his dreary highway shifts, he had been loading his unused and unnecessary pistol, and shooting at the passing cows.
Onwards, in the matter of a few years, he had managed to forget about his past and move up the ranks of security in White-ivy Penitentiary, which happened to be much more exciting to his thrill... especially when a murderous patient had supposably, stolen his packet of cigarettes that he left in his back pocket.
Father Hux nodded slowly and knitted his ginger eyebrows together, forming a crease in the middle of his pale forehead, to form.
"Well, let's just hope you're right, Sister Darlot." He sighed, turning his icy eyes to Darlot, who beneath all her drapes of black and veil, seemed to be shaking as much as the leaves outside the window were, which are barely hanging onto the branches of the trees.
The younger Sister, stood slightly off from the others and her head kept snapping between them, with every new person that hushed and spoke. She was utterly confused and her eyes were still somewhat stinging from a pensive tiredness that clung onto her heavy eyelids. She closed her eyes for a short moment and swallowed, just as Darlot began to whisper to Father Hux.
"Father Hux, I'm not so sure what to do if this doesn't actually work." She said, her eyes flicking between both Hux, and the younger Sister, who's eyes snapped back open.
Chills ran down the tired girl's spine, and her heart fluctuated oddly as she tried to understand what was happening, but there was a little voice in the back of her head which was already filling the blank, and assuming what was truely behind the dead-bolted door that they all seemed to huddle around.
Father Hux sighed sincerely and his shoulders dropped a little, "He will have to bleed out and deal with the scarring consequences."
Her breath hitched in the middle of her throat, "I'm sorry –" She suddenly interjected not being able to grasp onto the silence any longer and brave through the torcher of suspense, "Might I ask what is happening?"
Father Hux seemed to automatically stiffen, and a slow and drawn out, pensive silence loomed over the bundle of them. Hux then glances upward and turns back to the Sister by his side, his thin mouth pursed but slightly open and loose. His pale blue eyes look exceptionally dark tonight, almost matching the material of his drapes and the silver chain of his cross, matching the sly of his quick tongue – but she was yet to notice the hidden demeanour behind his mask of faith.
"Patient 727 has reopened his facial stitches," He says slowly, his words pausing before the next as if he is clearly thinking them over before speaking them aloud, "He got in an... alteration, and won't stop being violent with both the guards and nurses."
His eyes are fixed as if he's looking at something a thousand miles behind her own. The Sister's predictions and the hushed divination from her soul, had been completely right – but that didn't mean she still wasn't thrown into a clash of both timid, crushing nerves, and a drowning of distress.
She swallows down the sudden rise of a lump in her throat, but as it sinks to the swirl of her stomach, it feels as if she is swallowing shards of glass.
"And?" She asks, but she is already fabricating a new prophecy, in which Father Hux will give to her shortly. There had to be a reason in which she was here, standing outside Kylo Ren's cell, and by the lack of noise around, a slight blush rose to her cheeks as she wondered for a second, if he was listening.
Father Hux blinks and refocuses back into reality, and away from the trappings of his supposed virtuous mind, which upon a mere glance at the young girl, had wandered back to the memory of her hair flowing down the red of her cheeks.
He clears his throat, "And... Darlot had mentioned that he seemed to look the calmest she had ever witnessed him to be, when he was with you."
She clenched her mouth shut, to the point where even her jaw tensed and ached a little. There was no point arguing with the group of people around her, for two of them had watched the way Kylo Ren stalked into the back of the dining hall and sat across from her, as if it was a small-town cafe and she was a new face that he had never seen before.
Darlot interjects when she notices the flash of confusion smack across the other Sister's face, "– During lunch, the other day... when you were playing chess." She explains, as if that is going to help – but it isn't any help, for now the Sister's mind is panicking, knowing clearly that whatever is happening, cannot be deemed good, nor virtuous.
No matter how much her mind wavered through the darkness and to the dawning of day, it still couldn't seem to get the glow of Kylo Ren's eyes, out of its memory's regalia – if other people around White-Ivy, ever found out about what Kylo Ren had said to her, to which she actually listened to, or ever sought out the tiny hint of attraction she regrettably had for the murderous man... she wouldn't be surprised to be stripped from her veil and burdened with the life of a sinner.
"I–I don't think that has anything to do with me," She shook her head and tried to smile, but her lips twinged awkwardly and shook with apprehension, "I think he was just bored and wanted to play chess?"
Father Hux squints his eyes in the shadows, "Hm." He hums, then raising his brows and continuing in an almost, bored tone, "Well, like I said – Patient 727 won't allow anyone to get close enough to his wound... we were hoping that perhaps you could attempt to mend to it, before it gets worse and leaves him with a brutal infection?"
A dull tremor erupted throughout her system unceasingly when the worries laid like cement over her brittle bones. "You –" She stuttered, her mouth going exceptionally dry, "You want me to go in there alone?"
Father Hux nodded, "Yes."
Darlot winced and looked away, fear building in her own veins as she recalls the ways Patient 727 had continuously threatened her and made her leave his cell, as if it was his home and she was trespassing – never in her many months spent at White-Ivy, had she ever feared a patient more than she was terrified of Kylo Ren.
A horrid sensation seeped torturously into the newer Sister's heart and mind, striking her tired bones with the need to save herself from this situation and as her nerves ran over every possibility, it seems they only became jumbled in the messy knotting of her thread-like worries from before.
Her lips parted in sudden verity and when her soft features shifted into a dwindling expression of doom and vexation, she shook her head and uttered her round of excuses,
"But, what if he tries to k–"
But Father Hux was too quick to cut her off, throwing up a pale hand in the air and silencing her completely with the sudden, menacing look upon his face... but the second she sees the gleam in his eyes, its gone and a soft smile is rising upon his face.
"Don't worry. He doesn't tolerate the guards, but we will all be waiting outside incase barbarity was to be inflicted upon you." He chimes, his voice forcibly considerate and gentle, "And, we will give you a syringe of sedative... just incase you need to calm him down."
She's trying her hardest to act normal with no hint of hesitations, but all at once, a shrilling fever elutes all over her thin skin and scorches, as everyone's eyes are upon her in this dreadful moment, where the lightbulbs above, flicker their blaze to her heated face.
"If the guards cannot sedate him, why would I be able to?" She retorted, and just as Hux opened his mouth to speak, another voice spoke instead.
"Because, I think he's taken a liking to you," Guard Roberts interjects with a sly, and somewhat ridiculing smirk.
Father Hux fights the urge to not roll his eyes to the back of his head, and instead, turns to the older guard, who's pudgy fingers loitered around the silver of his handgun, which he never actually carried bullets for.
"Let's not suggest crass blunderings, Roberts." Hux says flatly, then flicking his gaze back to the young Sister, "I am certain that she doesn't wish to think that someone as vulgar as Patient 727, finds comfort in her..."
Her eyes were trained on the spectre of the entrance, her heavy eyelids a fraction too slow to blink as the irises expanded and nearly shoved away all the fabricated light out of the world, the moment the prison door was unlocked, and she was practically pushed through the tiny opening, before there was enough time for the monster within to thrash out and attempt an escape.
The cell was dimly lit by the moonlight, which crept through the barred window at the end of the square space. The floors had a strange grime to it, as if the rain from earlier days had managed to sink through the cracks in the ceilings and permanently find a home in the grout. The walls hadn't been scrubbed for years, that she could easily tell, but the scratches embedded in the cold stone, tried to cut the blood stains out of the surface, but eventually only left more behind to paint the black.
There was no tray slot in Patient 727's room, as did none of the other cells in the most dangerous corners of White-Ivy, for the Priest didn't think that someone as sinister as Kylo Ren, deserved gaps in his cage which allowed crisp air to loiter into his smothering box, or holes in which his fingers can reach out and escape his confinements.
No – Kylo Ren's room was nothing but four walls and an un-openable window. There was a small bed, just like her's, but it was empty and just left the space for a thin blanket to cover the rusty-metal frame.
He didn't even have a pillow for his blood-stained pillowcase, which hung limp off the side of the bed-frame – the Sister felt her heart twinge with guilt as she remembered the way she often scoffed at her own quarters, which at least had feathered comforters, and instead of holding onto the Lord's blessing of gratitude, she found herself taunting her own basic necessities, when in reality, she shared a home with those who truely had nothing... but doesn't Kylo Ren deserve nothing?
She felt fear bubble in her insides, and the ghost of a sting was invisibly slapped onto the back of her warm hands at the thought of her consequences if she ever said these thoughts aloud to Father Hux. Jesus did not preach torture, but surely the murky water that drips from the ceiling, isn't the drink of enlightenment... it's just hazardous.
Why would Father Hux even care to tend to Kylo's wounds, if the very cell he lives in, could give him the deathliest infection? She wondered to herself, as the syringe was tucked safely beneath the material of her sleeve, weighing her conscience down as much as her heart sunk to the cold, wet floor when she finally saw him.
"Eve?" Kylo Ren whispered from the corner of the cell, his body hunched over himself, as he sat against the scratches in the wall of the far left, and had his bloodied hands curled over his knees.
It's a ferocious cling of antagonism and conflict that results with him bringing a passion hotter than a thousand suns, whilst the reminder of her Lord's praise and destiny in which He had provided to her, are only the whispers of why she shouldn't lust after the deranged patient in the corner, the way she currently did upon the sight of his pale face and hands, which were richly smeared in blood.
She's done enough praying for forgiveness and saviour, but it seems her silent invocations, had been left wasted and repudiated – for she still can't get Kylo out of her mind, and her veins which lead to the crevasses of her now mangled, somewhat unhinged, heart.
The young Sister – who Patient 727 had officially called her by her new name – Eve, blushed in the darkness and whispered his own name, "Kylo."
Eve, held a small first aid kit in her right hand, but the second that her eyes laid upon him, the continents inside began to rattle around the tin, as every limb connected to her body, started to timidly quiver.
Hair of midnight black and a perfect pair of eyes to match beneath the framing of graceful brows. His skin was as pale as the moon's sorrowful shine, to which the complexion carried prominent cheekbones and a well-defined chin and nose, that together, was so chaotically jumbled, but it only added to his insane... beauty.
Kylo Ren had made no effort to move when he saw the door to his cell open, for he was convinced this time that the voices on the other-side of the metal, was actually her – his precious Eve, and not just the demonic curses in which his own madness created again.
His heart skipped a beat and he didn't know why, but a grin formed on his face, the moment she took a step closer to him, and gazed to his pale hands, which had been smeared with a mangle of scarlets... some of his own, and some of the crimson which was punched out of the nose of a previous guard.
She stuttered and began to carry the first aid kit with both hands, the sharp end of the syringe, jabbing into the skin of her curled wrist.
"Y-Your hands..." Eve whispered.
He shrugged from the floor, and his head fell slightly back and rested against the wall, "I'm fine," He said in a disinterested manner, as if the wounds upon both his face and hands, were the least of his problems.
"No, you're not," She shakes her head, suddenly feeling as if she was trapped in a lion's den, and the only way in which she will be allowed out, is the sooner she feeds and tends to the animal, "You're bleeding."
Kylo Ren chuckles. He sat there and slid his hands from his knees, to his thighs, and only then did she notice the crumpled, wet and bloodied, packet of cigarettes in his left fist.
"Did the church-man send you in to look at my hands or my face?" He slyly retorted, an amused smile forming upon his face, to which the blood slips through his soft lips and sinks between his white teeth.
Blood seemed to follow Patient 727 around – it was carved into the walls, torn into the stone of his face, sunken beneath his short nails, peeling at the grazes of his knuckles, and even drying in the fabric of his uniform.
Although his new clothes had already been scratchy, now it felt rougher than ever against his toned body. He felt frustrated, the smell of the guard's blood, pestering his senses as he tried to push through all the murk and only see, breathe, smell, taste, her.
A stray hair fell in-front of his glowing, roguish and troublesome eyes, but he made no effort to push it away, for he could easily see that the young Sister's focus was pulling in and out of reality. It was so dark, that she couldn't really see his face from this far, especially with all that blood upon the scar.
She moved a step closer, "Your face," Eve said, her whole body going warm as she found the courage to kneel before him, her knees clicking in the silence and her first aid box, tapping on the damp floor.
Now in this position, she was completely trapped – there were no silver chains upon his wrists anymore, and if he really wanted to, Kylo Ren could simply close the short amount of space between them and snap her bones in half... not even the syringe in her wrist could save her, but the most unnerving part about this whole situation was that ruefully, she wasn't completely scared of what he could physically do to her, but what he could do to her mind with those poetic, dark words of his, and the attraction in his mere gaze.
Eve swallowed raggedly and glanced down to the first aid kit, clicking it open and inspecting the materials inside. There was a thin and short torch tucked beneath the gauze pads, which when she turned it on, she wasn't surprised by the little amount of light it actually brought, but rather, Kylo Ren's next words.
"Then, look me in the eyes."
Eve looked up at him again, warm hands holding onto a torch the width of three pencils. He searched for something, anything in the Sister's eyes to tell him what her secret words were, the words in her sane mind, which she didn't wish to truely give away... not to the Lord, and not to him either.
Swirling in her enchanting orbs was... purity, innocence. Like her soul was untouched by the evil of the world, and she did not know the truth about people, in the many ways he did. He didn't wish to burden her honour and morality, but it seemed as if he already had in the short span that their dark and light, paths had crossed.
His little Eve, didn't know that human beings were tainted with ill-intent and negativity. She held a look one would only find in a young child, but never an adult, never anyone who had lived a day in the real world and trudged through the dirt and grime of the sickly mortals of mankind.
She was a blank slate, but since a young age, her pages had been constantly shoved into the bindings of a bible, a treatise in which she didn't particularly wish to reprint the eulogies onto her own canvas... this, Kylo Ren could easily tell, for he was the best at reading people, no matter how much lucidity they lack on their surfaces.
He squints his eyes slightly as she raises the torch to his face, but the light isn't enough to burn a halo in his gaze, for it is so dim, "You just woke up?" He asks, as Eve tries to look past the blood upon his face, and to the scar beneath it, without touching him.
She could almost taste the metallic of his blood on her own tongue, the smell was so pungent in the small space between them. His demeanour is shockingly calm, letting her briefly think over Father Hux and Guard Robert's words, before they eventually forced her into the cell.
There could be a possibility that Kylo Ren had taken a liking for her, but that couldn't be a good thing, for perhaps he did this with all his victims? Now known to him as Eve, she is still awaiting for the moment his small smirk fades into a scowl, and he takes this advantage of their closeness to plunge whatever weapon he secretly possesses, into her guts and to twist it in further for his own sick pleasure, but a blade never comes.
She nods to his previous question, "Yes."
Days felt like nights in White-Ivy, and nights felt like eternity – there was never a period of time spent in this manor, in which the time ticked by fast... especially when she was around Kylo Ren.
Kylo Ren's smile widened beneath all that thickness of blood, to which he shows the crimson upon his teeth, "They woke you up for me?" He chimes, a sarcastic, and playful tone in his voice.
She rolls her eyes and tries to fight the corners of her lips which tug slightly upwards. "Yes," She repeats herself.
In the cold space of the small room, her breath moves in tendrils of grey mist, to which he sucks in to fill his lungs, and exhales back out slowly, as if the fog was her soul and he was leeching on it, as if it was the cigarette in which he is craving so tenaciously.
His warm breath releases a cloud of fog into the cold air, too – but she didn't breath it in, but rather held her lungs and airways tightly closed, for she was scared that what he may be breathing out, is the cause in which makes her so addicted to him. Perhaps, he breathed insanity, and it was a virus in which her weak immune system, only wanted to catch.
"Hm," He almost purred, eyes flicking all upon her face as she inspects the mess of his own, "Did you pray to the Lord that owns you?"
She nearly drops her torch, "I'm sorry?"
His voice sounds gravelling, "Did you pray upon being awoken?"
Eve still felt uneasy around Kylo Ren, that he could also see in the way her fingers shook. There was still something in her that was scared of him, maybe it was her faith – but at the same time, there was a tremor in those same bones of her, which were comforted, guiltily, by his presence. The fact that she was somehow, kneeling with solace before such a murderous, psychopath of a man, made her feel a little bit on edge... but the thrill of it all, was unlike anything she had ever endured before.
"No," She shook her head and pursed her lips before continuing, "I'll pray in the sanctuary when the sun rises, but until then, I am here to have a look at your face. I heard that the stitches had re-opened?"
Kylo scoffed, "You mean that bastard, Guard Roberts, who punched me in the face and split it apart again?" He rolled his eyes and said, just as he dropped the packet from his hands and let it fall to the floor between his legs, "Yeah, they might have re-opened, but for what? A cheap brand of smokes and no lighter? It wasn't even worth the hassle... "
She had already figured out that his stitches actually hadn't been properly re-opened, but there was certain areas of it which had been presumably, tugged upon, allowing blood to slink through and smear across his marble, attractive face – but that didn't mean that she didn't prolong the time in-front of him, pretending to place her focus on his wound, instead of the words he spoke, which she was truely moving her inner pivot towards.
"Oh," Eve's lips parted softly, her eyes moving to meet his own again, "T-Then, do you mind if you glance to the side, so I take a closer look at the cut?"
Kylo Ren only stared, and that was the second in which she thought he was about to shift into the true monster in which he was, and kill her on the spot. Patient 727 watched Eve with pure evil in his brown eyes, words ceased and movements, frozen completely as a timid Sister, briefly met his expressionless, yet immensely musing gaze. She quickly looked down, hands fidgeting around the torch, ready to click it off and bid him a goodnight before he turned violent... but then, he complied and turned his face to the side.
The silence lay on her skin like a poison. It seeped into her blood and paralysed her terrified ponders. Eve's pupils became dilated and there was a tremor in her hands again, but this time there was no masking the flickering of her own light.
As she let her eyes graze along the sharpness of Kylo Ren's jaw, she was a tsunami of emotions that never mixed but clashed against each-other, fighting to be at the forefront of her wandering mind. She was nothing but a vein full of intense haunting, hollow-heartedness and affinity – the last emotion attached to Kylo Ren like a coiled up string.
His dark brown eyes are slightly melancholic as he stares out of the barricaded window, his hair is ruffled in a messy way as if he only just woke up too, but she knew that must be because of the obvious fight between him and the guards, which was the result of him stealing the packet of cigarettes from Guard Roberts – who was still standing in the hall outside the cell, waiting to hear anything that sounded like a commotion... but he heard nothing.
She quickly looked away, to rummage through the first aid kit, retrieving the gauze pad, which she then tenderly rubbed along the blood of his scar.
"You know –" Kylo Ren suddenly broke the silence again, this time his voice barely anything above a whisper, "You don't need to belong to your Lord."
He turned his face back to her again, letting her hold the gauze against his cheek.
"No?" She tilted her head and rolled her eyes, a small smile playing upon her lips as she felt as if she was suddenly sitting back in the dining hall, playing that damned game of chess with him, "And who are you suggesting that I belong to... the Devil?"
His lips rose somewhat gently, "I guess you could say that."
Their eyes met again, and Eve felt a mixture of emotions rummaged through her chest and clang against every bone of her ribcage. She could see the hidden meaning in his eyes, and she didn't quite like that she understood it so clearly.
"I definitely won't belong to you, Kylo," She shook her head and laughed nervously, finally feeling a little weakling of fear, build in her heart again.
The young Sister looked away, and avoided his lust-filled gaze, but she wouldn't know what that looked like, even if it was right in front of her – as it clearly is now. He made her incredibly nervous, more strung than the time she had to read a verse from the bible in front of her sanctuary.
"Not yet, my sweet, Eve," Kylo muttered, but she heard him, all too well.
Her brain felt like mush and the rest of her body ached more than she had ever thought possible. It felt like someone had tied her into an electric chair and this was what was left of her brain afterwards. Patient 727's words left her utterly breathless, but she knew that her silence may leave an answer for him to fabricate... as would the Lord.
"I don't want to... unsettle you," She suddenly commented, her eyes dropping and forming a glassy layer above the colour, for she felt as if she was defying her Lord, with every moment spent with the devilish, Kylo Ren. She held onto her breath for a short second, only to breathe back out and continue with a sigh, "But I don't want to be owned by you, especially after hearing the things you did to girls like me."
Kylo Ren still stared at her, listening intently, but not enough to care what her opinions truely were. "Girls like you?" He retorted with a sly gruff, "Those... women... they weren't anything like you."
Eve fought the temptation to laugh out loud. Anything like her? That's because her heart is still beating and she isn't currently chopped up into little pieces, and buried six feet underground... but her denomination for her morality might as well be.
She licks her lips, just the same as she had remembered he had done so, many times in the dining hall, "And why not?" She asked him, purely to bemuse the insane patient.
Suddenly, and all at once, she flinched when his big hand moved from the parting of his thick thighs and to her chin. Blood smeared across her skin, and his touch was incredibly cold to the heat of her face, which he gripped onto both, carelessly and delicately, to lift her eyes back to his.
Eve makes no effort to move – partially because she didn't want him to hurt her, and also because she didn't want his cold touch to leave her warmth. Her eyes are wide with bewilderment, and her heart seems to tightly squeeze its way up her chest and into her throat.
His brown eyes flicked all across her face, to which she only closed her own and swallowed.
Kylo's hand still holds onto her chin, his thumbs brushing more scarlet across the skin of her beauty,"Because you're pure." He whispers, and her eyes open only then to meet the darkness of his gaze, "You don't deserve the punishment served by the... cultivated disobeyers."
Her eyebrows furrowed, but still, she made no movement in his grip, "I– I don't understand..."
A collision of shock and unwanted need, spread a tincture among the apprehension in her chest and her mind clouded with the simple, hazy gaze upon him. There's an unreadable look in his eyes and his lips almost quiver just as much as her's did before him as finally, his hand moves from her chin – only to curl around her cheek.
"Everyone is so absorbed on the proposition of enlightenment, or some sort of twisted, religious nirvana. That God is good and faith is righteous..." Kylo Ren muttered as they knelt and sat on the wet floors of his cell, where he will rot forever in, "But with the Devil's touch, I was easily swayed into real erudition. I was shown a reality in which I can chose to disobey the light, and follow the darkness."
He says his words smoothly, the baritone of his voice reverberating through the Sister's chest as she sucked in a sharp breath upon them. Eve could feel the heat growing in her cheeks, and by now they must be beyond an attractive rosiness – but instead, the scarlet must be marking her out and basically urging him to sneer at the way they somewhat matched.
She felt as if all her faith's insecurities were writ large across her face and there was nowhere to hide, not even behind the black of her veil, or the pressure of the jabbing syringe, which still sits down her sleeve.
In the real world, the true evil walked the streets, masking themselves as innocent bystanders – the pastors always used to tell her that Satan had sent down a few of his worshippers, in hopes that some of them will corrupt the Lord's children – maybe that was what happened to Kylo?
The worst evildoers concealed themselves amongst the population, all bravado and impressive fake-ness, these people knowing just how to work the system from their own positions. The true criminals knew what to do, what to say, and how to act, how to sway the fickle and naive multitudes... and as he continued to speak, that is all she presumes him to be doing to her.
"And in the dark... I found that there were people all around me, who disobeyed the light too, and almost fed off the murk. But soon enough, they were no longer defying anyone, for they were now listening too intently to the Devil, who had lured them in from the start." He said, eyes now watching the way he paints her skin red.
Eve's surroundings begin to start spinning and she can't control her own thoughts as she takes a peek at those rosy lips of his once more, and whispers her next words, "So, you chose not to listen to both the Lord and the Devil?"
He nods, and she can hear the way he swallows before he speaks again, "Yes, exactly." He nods, "Because neither of them are truely righteous and truthful, nor do they have the answers to how us mortals should be summoned and controlled. I think that, only we should be able to control ourselves."
His eyes flicked to the hemming of her veil. If only she knew that his eyes had captured the first discovery of the colour of her hair, for a strand had just managed to escape the black, and stick to the blood he brushed it with. Kylo Ren smiled sheepishly, but soon brought his gaze back to her lips, when she asked,
"And in saying that... you mean to tell me that it was your choice completely, insanity or stable-minded, to kill those young girls?"
He somewhat hissed through his teeth, and shook his head, almost dismissing Eve, but still graciously answering her questions – for she was allowing him to use her heat to warm the ice of his hands, "I didn't just destroy women, that's just what the paper's wanted everyone to think, to make me seem sicker and more twisted." Kylo said, "No, I killed them all. There was no preference, nor fairness to my fights, for I was doing what your puny God should have, and weeded out the most deranged of us all."
She flinches in the grip of his hand again, but all at once, his other moves and holds onto the back of her neck, which is covered by her veil, never-less – but she still feels the freezing touch.
Eve's trapped in the snake's coiling, but when he tries to soothe her with his brushing thumb and sincere phrases of poetic reveries, she can't help but glance back to the apple-red colour of his lips, which were still covered in blood – that same way in which they were, that day he kissed her.
"Don't be afraid," He mumbled, "Like I said, you're not like them. You're truely pure, clean and... virginal, in all of life's aspects. You're almost the light itself, and my darkness is only drawn to it like an ignorant moth to a flame."
She held onto her breath again, for all too quickly, they were both leaning into each-other. Eyes hooded, lips tingling, hearts beating softly. Patient 727's nose brushed her own, and she could feel him slowly tugging onto her veil, wanting to pull it back and expose the rest of her locks in the darkness of his uninviting cell.
A yearning fills his heart, telling him to whisper back the words that are etched upon it, "... And I think that you see it too."
She sucks in a sharp breath, but doesn't fight his theorem.
A small sigh is bellowed onto her face, which is then followed by a soft hum that melts to a melody that her own heart now sings to. The cold touch would destroy the warm angel in his hands, and suddenly, that was the only thing in which he feared.
Though, regardless – Kylo Ren to his Eve, was mysterious. His expression lacked any kind of giveaway, and to the sheer darkness of the shade that painted his irises, the patient wore a shroud of something unknown to the young Sister, who seems to be braving through the demolishing of her morality, for her faith has become strung on the touch of the Devil.
It was just as scary as it was intriguing, and perhaps it was what had her still leaning in and then, softly pressing her lips to the metallic taste of his own, in the space of his cell at an ungodly hour of the night. An oddly welcomed fear settled itself in the pit of her stomach again... but maybe, all along, it was pure adrenaline.
Kylo Ren quickened the kiss in a mere second, and swallowed the soft gasp from Eve's lips before even an inch of the cobblestone walls around them could allow it to sink into the mould, and move onwards throughout the dead-silent halls.
The young Sister could barely form a coherent thought, not knowing how to move – but Kylo took the lead with such ease, guiding her lips with her own in a way that made her wonder, somewhere at the back of her mind, just how many times he had done this, whereas, she had never, willingly, before.
His lips burned more than her own blood ever could. A good kind of burning. A sensation which she thinks that she may always have to welcome, for Eve becomes a whimpering mess at the feel of his silky lips and tongue, swirling in the virtue of her mouth.
Eve was nervous, scared, but overall, she was enraptured with a feverish whirl of emotions in which she could not yet decipher, but she just knew she wanted it.
Though, the Lord seems to be always watching, for the very moment she feels the prick of the syringe in her wrist again, a loud knock is rhythmically banged onto the other-side of the metal door to the cell – and just when it begins to open, is when the panic elopes her.
Nobody else can see this, let alone Father Hux!
The Sister tries to push Kylo Ren away, but he doesn't care about being caught, and doesn't want this moment to end any sooner than it should – he only holds onto her tighter, pushing her face closer to his own.
She doesn't even realise what she is doing, but when Kylo won't let her go, she does the only thing that comes to her wiring mind.
Her fingers snap to her wrist, to shakily pull out the syringe quickly, and just as she feels the sharp end scratch along her skin, is when her eyes flick open in the kiss.
Eve watches her own hand grip around the exposed syringe, and she swipes it through the air in one sudden motion...
Only to then, plunge it into Kylo Ren's neck.