Waking up is no longer the pleasure it was.
There is a fleeting moment as I come into consciousness, where I still think I am back home and I am whole again for a second, while I think my bedroom drawers will be the first thing my opened eyes will see; but that feeling evaporates faster than summer rain off burnt soil as I am met with only wide windows that are the only barrier to the galaxy beyond.
My eyelids droop back down, leaden with sleep but when my mind catches up, they snap open violently as if I'd been woken by sirens wailing. This wasn't my bedroom; this wasn't home.
I feel an emptiness in my heart, a shear nothingness that somehow, smothers me and threatens to consume me entirely. By the time I am fully awake, my brain has become overwhelmed all over again as if this was all new, fresh and blistering raw.
I wish I could linger in that blissful ignorance of slumber forever more, for I feel the need to wipe away any non-existent tears that I want to form but can't.
Looking around my new bedroom–it was a room with a bed and a table, nothing more. It had no effort put into its comfort and I wondered if that was a metaphor for my welcoming in Kylo Ren's home.
The misery washes over my body like harsh waves crashing onto soft sand. Each wave is icy cold and sends shivers down my spine as I drown on the water which rises like the lump in my throat. Kylo Ren was quite possibly the most discourteous person I had ever met, though in my lifetime I had only met a few people in general.
I wondered if that was why the First Order had hidden us kids from the rest of the galaxy the moment we were found: to keep us naive–leaving our trust in only their hands.
I glance to a clock that sat on the table beside my new bed and notice it was still early, but I was too awake to now go back to sleep, so I just laid as still as ever and endured the thoughts that bounced around my head as the hours went by.
An un-welcomed friend, boredom, had returned to consume my soul almost entirely–and as more time went on, a new friend arrived to keep boredom company, and I believe he won't be leaving too soon; melancholy was its name.
Melancholy is much different to boredom; he's gut wrenching and painful whilst Boredom is only a complete numbness. This melancholy is a heavy weight in which I simply can't let fall from my shoulders and we don't live together in harmony. Though, I let him sit upon my chest and I hold it so tight I still can't find the warmth or the insensible muffle Boredom provides; but the Melancholy still clings.
There is only one common ground Melancholy and I can both live peacefully among, and it is the agreement that we both crave what I once had: a home.
I wondered if I would have met my new friend earlier if I could remember what my original home felt like, what a parents love felt like.
Unlike the many warm days that made my old home feel like it bathed in only sunshine and glimmers of gold–my surroundings was now replaced with a thin layer of ice and the galaxy trying to etch through the panes. Though, the stars which shine amongst the black, showing the beauty of the many hues that weave together with a bright gleam, might possibly be my new favourite sight in the midst of all the murk and trepidation.
Eventually, a light turns on from outside my room, which creeps in in through the creases in the hatch of my door. I don't move but I watch the shadows move from outside; Kylo Ren must be awake.
Although, I had only met him yesterday, I already disliked him. With such hatred and malice that he held towards me, how could I possibly find a friendly bone in his body? He knew he was powerful and wasn't shy to prove it as I recall the way his fingertips danced along his lightsaber with a threat in wielding it. He had laid his words with a powerful punch, but when I could sense what he felt inside, that was even stronger than anything he could've possibly said.
I could sense that he loathed even the thought of me, and I don't know if it was because of how I looked or if he had a belief that he was superior to everyone else by virtue of his birth–much like I have been told–and he didn't wish to be assigned a weaker opponent to live with forevermore.
He exuded a cloud of doom around him that proved he had left humanity for good, and all that power with such little grace, was utterly toxic. Perhaps, without that vulgar side he possessed, he could have been handsome, strong even, but that coldness he held made him the ugliest damn thing in the universe.
His footsteps are heavy and quick as I watch the shadows he makes, and when they creep closer to my bedroom, I flinch. The hatch opens with a hiss and I don't bother to pretend to sleep as the light crawls into my room. Kylo's silhouette is sleek and fluid, the light behind not being able to enlighten his face entirely.
He isn't slumped, his body is clearly too muscular for that as he stands tall, cloaked and all–his helmet held tightly in his right hand. He's half in the shadow and half in the light, but I can still see the way his eyes lock into mine. Though, when they squint slightly, I realise he can't actually see that I am awake in my room's darkness... but he can most likely sense the fear building within my soul.
Something flashed beneath the surface of his hardened expression and I hurried to investigate the sudden shift but it was too late, the emotion disappeared before I could identify it. For now he only stands a flowing outline of black; I contemplate for a second. Why was he just watching?
Then, all at once he was gone with just the turn of fabric–returning me back into darkness as the hatch closes after him and soon after, heavy treading leads to the sounds of the entrance opening and closing.
He's gone–but I still wait two more hours in my bed to make sure he was truely.
When I cannot wait any longer, I savour my last warm moments in this tiny bed as I burrow myself closer into the clean, soft sheets. I rub the remainders of sleep from my eyes and curse to myself quietly as I rip the blanket off my skin, forcing myself off the mattress and introducing my feet to chilled tiles.
The outlines of his quarters look the same as it did yesterday, untouched and uncomfortable. I stand stable in the middle of such a large space, not sure what to do with myself in such an unwelcoming environment. I glance at the other hatch: Kylo's room, and as soon as I've looked, I tear my gaze away–afraid of even the thought of going in.
But I would have to one day. Though, Kylo had acted like he wanted nothing to do with me, I recall General Hux telling him to complete his requirements, which I knew was to be him stretching my legs open and filling me with his successor.
I grimace at the mere thought, but further wondered where Kylo's value lies: with the First Order or his distaste of me... for I hope once more it is the latter, and that I would never have to step foot in the room behind that hatch.
I sigh.
With nothing to do out here and the fear to touch anything laying heavily on my shoulders, I make my way back to my room and huff loudly as I sit on my bed. I guess I should get dressed and comb my hair, for I don't wish to sense an even heavier weight of disgust when Kylo returns.
Once done, all I am left with is the galaxy's gleam and the never ending tick of the clock which is driving me mad as more hours are lost–along with my patience. The room had dwindled to a barely perceptible lightening of the stars gloom, and with the twinkling I can only see taunt in their shine. Only silence lingers in the air and I shiver in the claustrophobic space, as a small sigh of anxiety leaps out of my mouth.
Tersely, my eyes flicker to the window, which before I found beauty in it but now that seemed to wither with age as the walls began to feel as if they etched their way in closer and the air was twining thin.
I am struggling to breathe and I can't tell if that is because I know the windows cannot open or if it is the growing anxiety that builds. I flush hot and my skin almost burns. In this heat I can barely formulate a thought. I curl my fingers around the thin fabric of my top, waving it in and out to create just a little air flow, but it's not enough–acting like an ice cube melting into hot soup.
I try pacing around the lounge but it isn't enough distance. I need to get out of these quarters. All the reasons not to come flooding in but as my hand reaches for the hatch, it is as if my body chemistry just sent them a middle finger and ignored the little voice in the back of my mind, screaming not to leave.
I feel the soft panic that can grow or fade depending on what I do next–but I still open the hatch and step out into the hall.
I didn't know if I was allowed to leave Kylo Ren's quarters but he hadn't necessarily told me I couldn't. With butterflies in my stomach and my head buzzing with possibilities, I did what my heart wanted anyway and began walking.
I didn't know where I was going, but anywhere was better than that suffocating space of lonesome. I was walking unusually slow, almost robotically, as if my brain was struggling to tell each foot to take the next step.
Each wall that I pass by was of tile that was identical to the next without an identifying marker of any kind. Standing in what could be any hall of the Finalizer, there were no reason that left would be better than right, or ahead better than doubling back; though I had no process of choosing. I even climbed stairs to higher levels, and my anxiety only tumbled down from them.
Starting to get a a sense of thought, my pace brought calmness. Now that I had mastered the art of having a clear brain–the serenity of feeling my own intellect rather than tiring myself with unresolved thoughts, I noticed the halls were filled with many people who would pass.
There were StormTroopers, engineers, servants and even some men who dressed importantly enough for me to know they were higher up than the rest; though none of them paid me any attention for they seemed much too busy on their own path to notice–or maybe the fact that my clothes resembled that of a servant. I looked not the slightest out of place, why would anyone bother to spare a glance?
Though, I thought too soon.
"Hey!" I suddenly hear a high-pitched voice squeak and then I feel a small hand wrap around my wrist, tugging me back and halting my pace.
When I turn to see who held onto the expanse of my hand, I was surprised to see the flushed face of Arion, who's hair looked even messier somehow beneath her headscarf. "What are you doing around here?" She hushed in a low tone, wrapping my arm beneath her own and walking linked beside me.
I watch her face try remain steady as she stares forward, trying to not cause attention from the StormTroopers who had just trudged by–their blasters ever so intimidating.
"Going for a walk?" I stutter and as the words leave my mouth it sounds almost uncertain, as if I didn't even know exactly what I was doing–and that, I didn't.
Arion looked slowly over at me, her once fiery eyes doused in ice water, unnervingly making the blue more pale, "You shouldn't be around here," She warned.
I furrow my brows and huff. I now live here but I can't go anywhere?
"Why not?" I contend. Our feet now in perfect pace of each other.
"Your nearing the control rooms," She states, gripping my arm now a little too tightly. "You don't want to run into any of the Commanders, let alone a General."
"I don't care for the Commanders, nor the Generals," I retort obnoxiously.
Right now every movement and word she performed seemed to infuriate me to no end.
"You will when they have you shot just for looking at them the wrong way," She barks, quieting once more when another servant passes. She gives me a side-eye and her shoulders tense, "Look, I will take you back to your quarters. Where is the way?"
Annoyance floods my chest and sits heavy upon my back. I had made it this far with no trouble and now she will try take me back to the place of suffering, the quarters in which I have to share with the most dangerous man in the galaxy.
As Arion walks with me arm-and-arm, her presence seems to buzz around me like a fly that you can never swat. I roll my eyes, ripping my arm out of her's as we reach a conjunction in the hallway. "No. I don't need you to babysit me," I frown.
She stops in her tracks and looks over her shoulders in attempts to find anyone who could be listening: Nobody. Arion's face floods with crimson red and I know I have angered her when she spits, "Babysit you? How pretentious could you be? I am trying to help you!"
"I don't need your help," I curse staring her defiantly in her pale blue eyes–alike Three or not, she was an annoyance when I could hardly think straight to begin with. Everything is overwhelming and she isn't helping, "–Ever since I have arrived here, everyone has been horrible to me. I can do what I want, and by myself. Don't act as if you care what happens to me, " I spit.
The anger from her eyes showed the scared child from within; the girl who was taught to be quiet and serve. I could see the pain beneath it and for a moment I regret what I had said, for that child reminds me of I was also brought up to be–but I can't help someone like that, I have to take care of myself now.
"You know, yesterday I really thought you were different. That you weren't like them."
I study her face for a moment but can't find the answers. "Weren't like who?" I ask.
I can sense the disappointment, "The Leaders. The First Order. You are as just as arrogant and destructive as them."
My mind was a surging perplexity. Her cold words hit my burning skin like a thousand of needle pricks being thrown against me. I blink in shock, my perception distorted. Different? The Generals I could understand, they were incredibly rude and I had only met two; but The First Order? Destructive? I don't understand.
"What do you mean?" I ask, my mouth going dry. "The First Order aren't destructive?"
Arion's face twitched, her mouth parting slightly in sudden realisation. All bitterness seemed to be lost from her face as her eyes widen, "You really were kept hidden from everything weren't you?" Her voice was timid and she spoke in a whisper, as if she didn't wish anyone to hear–not even the stars gleaming through the windows of the hallway.
I don't say anything as she continues,
"The First Order isn't who you thi–"
Suddenly, she stops speaking as if the words she could've possibly said were snatched from her throat entirely. I can sense her fear creep in and I turn to where her eyes are stunned upon–right behind me.
He glided down the marble floors like a slinking panther but tenser than a tiger who stalks his prey. Kylo Ren's feet thudded towards us and I couldn't do anything but accept my fate.
"Six," His mechanical masks roars.
I look away knowing his exuberance for fear is a passion. Previous feelings of eagerness to leave the quarters behind for the day had broken–once like the sweet melody of a blackbird, full of promise, freshness and new to come, now it sat like a cold cup of soup, waiting to be drained away. I wish I could drain away.
I almost want to sprint to somewhere far, somewhere safe, before he makes the last couple of steps to me, but the gears in my mind are halting and throwing its metaphorical anchor to the floor, stopping my feet from even the slightest of movement. The more anxious I became, the more pronounced became my intellectualisation of the whole process.
Arion is scared rigid too and as Kylo finally stands tall behind me, she etches herself away slightly, using my height to hide herself.
"Six," He repeats and I suddenly feel breathless. When I turn to face the masked man once more, I find my hands are shaking by my sides and my mind spins, trying to find a safe way out of this–but there wasn't a single place far enough from Kylo Ren, in which I could ever find liberty.
"Explain your reasoning as to why you are out of your quarters," He demands, cutting straight to the point.
When I look to the mask, my eyes reflect in it's glass–wide and riddled with uncertainty, "I-I don't know. I-I needed air."
I can feel the pain of an incoming storm of thick tears warning their arrival–but they never come as I try to calm them.
I am not a timid mouse.
"And that lead you to the Command Centre?" He tuts, and I notice his gloved hands clench, the leather tightening around his knuckles, "How strange."
His words were almost threatening and sarcasm was evident. Though, how much I tried to pry through his mask and understand his emotion: unlike yesterday, I couldn't feel anything from him, but maybe that was because an overwhelming sense of fright came from behind me.
He can feel it too. Kylo's mask jolts slightly to Arion behind me and stares with intent, he continues. "Who are you?" His mechanical voice questions with dark intentions, "What is your purpose in being here?"
Arion moves from behind me and her blue eyes glimmer, not daring to look into the mask of Kylo Ren. "I'm Arion, I serve Rook Jenkins. I was just leading this girl back to her quarters, I was aware that she had gotten lost," She claimed.
"A servant of Rook Jenkins," Kylo hums, like he is letting the words sit on his tongue for a moment, "–Jenkins is a cosmetic consultant, and he is found, if I recall, three levels below the one you stand upon. So, I will ask you again, servant... what is your purpose in being here, so close to the Command Centre?"
I can almost hear Arion swallow the lump in her throat and I glance to her.
It is as if she has retreated inside of herself; trying to find the right answer to his question. I can almost see her contemplations surround around her–all over, scattered in every direction possible.
She wasn't supposed to be here, and she knew that... so why was she? Something told me that Arion wasn't here to lead me back but rather for something else, but I couldn't read past those piercing blue eyes to find out why.
I think back to her words before which were laced with disappointment, 'I thought you were different.' And soon enough, my own come out of my mouth quicker than I could have put them together in my brain.
"She was three levels down, that's where she found me," I lie, looking back to his broad body, "I could've sworn this was where your quarters were, so I lead her here... I am sorry, Sir."
Arion's lips part in surprise and she finally looks into the mask's eyes as an attempt to confirm it.
Kylo pays her no mind as he looks back to me, though dismissing her completely when he barks, "Leave servant."
As he stood towering above me, the dread and anxiety deadened my mind and body. In my frozen state I let out a shaky breath, closing my weary eyes. Kylo Ren can tell I am lying–he knows it–I know it.
I look back to Arion as she forces her unwilling feet to move and I force a smile that felt completely unnatural, "Thank you for the help." I say with a curt nod and she returns it as she spins on her heel and leaves. In that moment, she and I both know it isn't me who should be grateful.
I watch her disappear into the labyrinth of hallways.
"Come," Kylo Ren utters now beneath his mask and turns the other way, expecting me to follow but I am too scared to. It is as if I can feel a leash wrapped around my neck, claiming me to him, but it is stretched too thin as I try and pull from it.
But it's no use, I know in the end that if don't follow him the leash won't just snap entirely, but instead strangle me until I let go and drag by his feet instead–so my own feet move willingly and I begin to walk beside his intimidating stride. Soon enough, we are almost back to his quarters.
Kylo Ren didn't speak and every person who passed by him him, masked or not, I could tell was incredibly intimidated by him. I lingered beside him like a good pet would and at that moment was when I realised, I was thought of as the very thing I refused I would be: Kylo Ren's bitch.
Maybe, it was his instinct for cruelty that made the others respect him... or fear him. They knew that if they didn't do what was expected they'd end up with a lightsaber gash or worse. I could tell Kylo ruled with an iron fist, whatever he said went. He is a leader with no morals, no conscience, no compassion. Everyone's terrified of him, not just myself.
"Your mind is in scatters," Kylo suddenly hisses, his helmet synthesising beyond what it actually is, "–It is irritating enough to bring on a migraine. Control your thoughts."
I am left in shock at his words as we reach the door to his home. He can read my mind? But I had been taught how to hide my thoughts and emotions from a very young age, to the point where I now did it unconsciously.
"You can read my thoughts?" I ask, eyes blown wide and mouth going dry.
Now standing in his suffocating quarters once more, he takes off his helmet in the comfort of his own space–but I only find that another reason to struggle with claustrophobia as his dark eyes practically eat up the tension between us.
I am still left breathless when he reveals his face–and I pray that he cannot notice the way I fight the urge to look at his lips.
He places the helmet on the counter, taking his gloves off after and from what he says next, I can tell he is thinking so deeply, already with a strategy that's several moves ahead of what I am ever capable of–and his words sound so heavy and quick that, to me, it seems unnatural.
"I can only feel what you are thinking and how your body reacts to what you ponder... but no, I can't read the words you fret."
Thank the stars.
"Oh, okay." I nod, trying to calm the nervous storm from within.
The silence in the air lingers and I feel fragile beneath Kylo's heavy stare. I am waiting for him to turn destructive any second, to pounce upon me with a harsh grip and a violent intent–but he fails to do so... just yet.
I shifted uncomfortably in my place and wiped my sweaty, nervous hands on my clothes. A filthy taste suddenly forms in my mouth. That familiar taste where it comes to you in a moment where you feel so impossibly uncomfortable, but you're too scared to do anything about it.
I make a move and he watches me with those deep, brown eyes as I sit on a chair which stood before him. He finally breaks the silence as I begin to sink into the hard surface, impossibly.
"I don't trust the servant," He speaks, his voice velvety. "I suspect I won't have to tell you to keep your distance as you shall only stay on this level from now on. Is that understood?"
"Yes, I understand."
My leash begins to feel tighter as if he has tied it to a post.
"Mouse," He suddenly mumbles only to himself.
Anyone may have missed his words, but I heard them clearly.
"What?" I ask, my jaw craning in attempts to not scream.
"You are a timid mouse" He says, a-matter-of-factly as he begins to make his way over to me. I visibly flinch when he stands before me, grasping my chin in his grip–gently.
"I am not–" I begin to protest, my tongue feeling funny between his hands.
"Oh, but you are..." He talked like he had a purpose but his mind was dancing in infinite directions, I can feel the chaos.
"I still sense your fears. It is as if you scream them from within to grasp my attention," He adds to my misery–tormenting me. He drops my chin and my breath comes in small spurts, hot and nervous. At my sides, my fingers curl into sweaty fists as he takes a seat beside me.
"And what... Do you find some sick pleasure in making me afraid?" I grit through my teeth, the space between us feeling a hundred miles apart, though I could feel the warmth he brings.
"Maybe, for fear makes you human," Kylo shakes his head and almost grins, a sly tongue poking out of his mouth and licking his bottom lip–malicious intentions sitting upon it with a taunting glaze. "I find pleasure in knowing even you don't stand a chance against me."
There is no boundary with his words and harsh realities that sit beneath those chimes. My blood boils but the anger I held had a dull exhaustion to it, like I have been over the same bitterness too many times before.
"I wasn't sent here to be a challenger," I stare defiantly, "–You know my purpose."
"Indeed, I do," He retorts, glancing to my neck for a second and then back to my eyes. I can feel him leaning in closer. "But is that your purpose? Or did the First Order merely give it to you?"
He saw the shock register on my face before I could hide it and a small smile played on his lips. I am left feeling so incredibly confused by his words–harsh like knives, coated by poison in an extraordinary sort of way, but he delivers them with such a richness of his tones, luxurious and warm, offering a smile afterwards as a reward.
But his smile taunted me, as if he was proud of himself for derailing my opinion on my own destiny. Was there something inside him that resented the First Order for giving me to him?
"I-I was born with this purpose..." I stutter, but it sounds more like a question than a statement, "I'm afraid that I do not understand what you are trying to imply, Kylo Ren."
I feel lost and confused, but longing to figure him out. I am like a ball of tangled yarn. The parts that are untangled are available, useable; but the rest is a mess–useless until it is untied. That mess feels endless and unyielding, but it represents the leash around my neck which my destiny had tied to him–or had The First Order?
"You were born with power. Not purpose," He murmurs, his hand that was behind my head now fiddling with a lock of my hair; not in adoration, but rather boredom. "... Much like I was. I believe we find our own purpose, not destiny."
I furrow my brows and ignore the shiver he causes that runs down my back, "And what? You decided this is where your purpose lies? With the First Order?"
He tuts, leaning in closer so now I can almost feel his breath fanning my face, "The First Order and my Supreme Leader is where my loyalty lies. They didn't give me a purpose, they gave me an order."
Suddenly, his hand etches his way over and makes its home on my thigh. Even before his palm had met my skin that laid beneath cloth, his fingertips were enough to make my lungs expand with briny air. With the grip of his soft hand, came electric tingles with the desire to play and nausea began to claw at my throat. It took everything in me to force down the rise of nervous bile.
"–And I will never fail either of them."
The look in my eyes is a flashing beacon that shows I am afraid but all I do is sit completely petrified under his grip with my lips quivering whilst his hand gropes my flesh. My breathing hastens, the intense rhythm of my heartbeat undergoes an irregular count, hammering quicker than a lightning bolt as his hand slithers higher.
When the anxiety threatens to grab me by the tongue and dry my mouth, I don't panic. So this is it. It's happening. Kylo Ren is about to fufill our destiny with the opening of my legs.
I've been trained my whole life for this moment, I've been taught what should happen–but now that it is happening, I am apprehensive.
This isn't what I want my purpose to be, but it is: whether destiny decided it or rather, the First Order. So, instead of letting it take me down, I tell myself everything will be alright, even though I do not believe so.
His eyes are so memorising even in this artificial lighting that I could be pulled into its gravity, if it weren't for his malice that weighed his soul down like an anchor. Suddenly, his hand moves from my upper thigh and makes its home my hip. My skin tingles where he touches me and my heart beats erratically in my chest so hard that I think it might fly out.
When he pushes me further into the couch and places his head into the crook of my neck, my mind is no longer wired to the rest of my system and my thoughts are now deaf. I hold my breath and hope this will be over quickly. His lips brush the skin on my neck. Not innocently, like a tease but hot, fiery, passionate and demanding. I want to pull away but his other hand is holding me in place.
My head floods with a thick haze and my body becomes numb in the sensation of his soft lips pressed against flesh in this fraction of a second. So this is what a kiss feels like? So warm and silken, his very smell was flooding my senses now... my stomach churns.
My body felt as if poison was coursing though it instead of blood. Memories of Commander September sitting Three and I down and praising intercourse as a sacred moment has now become scarred in my mind– disfigured into something so grotesque.
I keep my gaze off him when he pulls out of my neck, I couldn't bare to look his way, because if I make eye contact, I think I might vomit. I can hear his belt being undone, leather swiping through metal.
I'm trying to remain strong. I really am–but when he begins to lift my skirt up, I whimper.
Kylo Ren's hands, all at once, rip off of me whilst his eyes snap to mine, and I see just how deep they really are. They're not a solid brown, but rather, something is now hidden within them.
Suddenly, that colossal weight of repulse has hijacked my body once more and this time I am quick to familiarise with Kylo Ren's immediate disgust. I can feel everything the monster feels.
He stared as if I'd just grown horns and I could sense the sparks in his brain as if it was desperately trying to connect dots. He retreated, a look of discomfort on his face.
Oh, no.
I am conflicted. Absolutely no part of me wanted to endure what was about to happen, but now that his hands are off me and his belt is beginning to be put back on, I realise that one day it is bound to happen, and I would rather get it over and done with to end the emotional trauma that is waiting for its eventual happening.
He is stricken with a feeling of nausea much as I was, and it's overwhelming to endure both his and I's battles at once. What disgusts him? Was it me?
We stare at each other in an odd way, as if it were a silent argument. Our glances battled each other, a disgruntled look forming on his perfect features. I break the silence, covering my legs once more with my skirt and sitting up.
"I can sense you now." I whisper, and I swear I see him almost flinch. "You're repulsed within."
Kylo Ren hovered right there, quite soundless for so long, simply staring me down with a dark look. His hands then curl into a fists and I flinch at the thought of him using them–to which he sees me do. His fingers unclasp from their home in his palms and he runs one hurriedly through his soft hair. He didn't lash out, but I see the anger in his eyes still as he watches me with dangerous intentions.
I continue, curious to figure him out, though it may eventually be the reason of my death.
"How are you to succeed the First Order's demands if you cannot even look beyond your own disgust of the very thought of me?"
Suddenly, his hand hit and I fell with the force of it. Crashing to the ground with my cheek stinging in the shape of his palm; I hadn't expected him to be so strong but there was weight and strength enough to stun. Though, his hand was empty, it was like being hit by a metal bar.
"Know your place!" He roars, spit splattering upon my face as he now stands above me.
My heart drops into my stomach and all the planets in the universe instantaneously stop spinning, but I don't give in. One moment he resembled a raging sense of unclarity, the next he was deep shades of black and mercury–zll together forming a kaleidoscope of dancing hues, that never stick to one shade for too long.
"I'm right, aren't I?" I retort, shoving myself back on my palms as I stare back. "I know you are infuriated and repulsed by me."
His breathing then becomes almost rapid as if he is some animal and I see his lip curl inward. He was seething in either anger or distaste, I couldn't tell–all I know is I fucked up.
"You don't know anything."
"I-I can sense it..." I stutter, my voice croaking as I scan his unsettled scowl. He grabs my wrist. My heart skips a beat, my toes are now barely touching the tiles and my arm feels like it is about to be torn from it's socket.
"What is it about me that disgusts you?" I pester, wincing in pain but remaining insolent. "Is it because I am not to your standards? Not your type?"
I am becoming brave with my taunts but I know they will come with a price as his mouth jerks in anger. "Neither." He almost growls, pulling my arm even tighter.
I raise my other hand, clenching it into a fist and preparing to strike, but his eyes catch my dainty fingers nearing his body. Now holding onto both of my hands, I am helpless to his strength–so I do the only thing my mind can think of:
I spit right into his face.
For a suspended moment, he pauses registering what had just happened, but when his eyes glare back into me, time continues and soon enough, my back has crashed into the tile; the bones of my spine stabbing into the flesh as it harshly hits the ground forcefully as Kylo had thrown me.
Slowly, I tried to get up but I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out. Sharp pain shot down my back and colourful spots flashed in front of my eyes, it felt like my whole body had been beaten and every movement caused some muscle or bone to ache.
A little voice in the back of my head found me. It spoke to me in its cackling voice, screaming at my stupidity and cursing at me for getting us into this mess. His footsteps thrash against the tile and I can feel the breeze his cloak made in his long strides over to me. I watch with fearful eyes as his his hand sneaks beneath the mess of black, exposing the metal weapon he pulls from it.
All at once, with one strong snatch and a swipe in the air: the lightsaber exposed itself in the mess of a muffled circle as he twisted it once before he stopped it beneath my chin. The static of the fiery beam nicked and spat between the deathly stare we both shared. The heat it possessed, almost burnt the skin of my neck that his lips once danced upon.
Fear floods my system whilst adrenaline pricks my skin and beats in my heart like it's trying to escape. I think my chest will explode and my eyes are wide with fear. I try to move, but when I notice his other hand held out, I understand why I cannot.
Kylo Ren eyed the weapon with hungry eyes–the eyes of a passionless executioner. His blunt hands were steady as they lifted the saber higher, almost pricking the skin of my chin as it hummed with a dreaded purpose.
He enjoyed creating fear and the fear within me told my legs to go weak, my stomach to lurch and my heart to ache. Commander September once told me that there was nothing to fear but fear itself and in a dire situation, always stay calm. But let's face it, there is really only one thing I can do: plead for my life or die at the hands of the man who owns me.
Tears begin to form at my foolishness and I feel the metaphorical leash almost choke me. I hiccup, tears rolling down with the same quietness, "I'm sorry!" I cry, "Please don't do this."
Kylo knows he has the upper hand. Weapons like this are dangerous and made with the intention to destroy, who wouldn't pair such a weapon as this one to its purpose? He etches it further into my skin, threatening to kill.
I can taste saliva thickening in my throat and beads of sweat trickling down my brow. My eyes meet his once more, almost in acceptance of my fate–so this is what destiny had decided.
I stared into his eyes. Deep brown, like the autumn leaves of my home. They were strong, deeply soulful in the way all absolute things are. It was the sort of brown that brought the silent music of the universe so deeply within his core; but maybe that was just the force who showed me.
Something was hurting him. Something ached inside him. Something felt so wrong, so invalid and now I could understand the reasoning. I could feel him trying to fight beyond the cause for his unexplained pain, but he failed. He tried to reason this unbearable burning but didn't find any. Everything in him felt so confused, just like a jumbled set of a puzzle.
"You're not disgusted by me..." I abruptly whisper over the buzz of his weapon."–You're disgusted by my unwillingness."
Those brown eyes widen.
I lick my lips and try to move, but he still has the force straining me, "You asked if I believed that I was born with this purpose–the purpose to provide another generation of Sith. Truth is, I have no idea what my purpose is, and that's what makes me fearful."
Kylo was battling with himself on the inside and for a moment, I wondered if the reasoning behind why his lightsaber was held up to my neck is because he sees me as finally an opponent, rather than a pet.
I continue, "You don't wish to fail the Order," I plead, "And you won't. If you just give me some time, don't treat me like a pet and maybe don't hold a lightsaber to my neck, I will..."
He moves it only closer–daring me.
"–I will comply, and you will succeed in the Supreme Leader's order."
Pleading to him was like a verbal dance. In the push and pull between the primitive thoughts that swirl in his mind, I somewhat sit comfortably–his force finally loosening its mighty, vengeful grip.
His lightsaber suddenly retracts and I almost faint when he entirely lets me go. Kylo Ren didn't say anything before he turned around and left his quarters, but I felt the leash around my neck now snapping completely as the hatch closed behind him.
I can see it now, the battle inside of Kylo Ren between the good and the bad–the light and dark. He didn't wish to be with me no matter who ordered him to be, and it was the good in him that ultimately held him back–and he was scared of that, for it resembled the good... it resembled the light.