Renegade - Kylo Ren x Reader.

Day 7300.

You fell back on to your small, uncomfortable cot, sweating and completely out of breath. You took a small metal tool from the shelf beside you and etched out another small line on the dusky wall.


Day 7300.

You sighed deeply, wiping your sweaty hair from your face. Today was your bornday. Despite it being a day for celebration, you didn't have much to celebrate, so instead you spent the day training. You had spent the entirety of your twenty living years inside the small under ground bunker you called home. You had never breathed fresh air, felt rain on your skin, never so much as seen the stars in the night sky. You didn't even have a name, your Father just called you girl.


You were buried alive, living out your days in the same four walls, over and over again. You never heard a sound, or a voice, other than your own. An old comlink sat dormant on your weathered table, since your Father died, no one ever made contact.


You sighed, placing your makeshift weapon beside you and pulling your boots from your aching feet. Today was defence training day, it always tired you out. You were close to mastering all seven forms of lightsaber combat, your technique was flawless, as was your form. But it would help if you had a real lightsaber, not a shabby piece of wood.


Your Father, Jorah, always told you that when you were ready he would build you a real lightsaber; you wished he could see you now, you were more than ready. Your Father was a war hero, he fought beside the resistance in the Battle of Endor, he was your teacher, your trainer, your guardian. But he was gone now.


You remember that night like it was yesterday. Your Father had shouted at you, called you unbalanced, unworthy of the force, blamed you for your Mothers death. You felt anger like nothing you had ever felt, it flowed through your entire body, a darkness. It seduced you, luring you deeper into your black, blind rage until you unleashed havoc. An energy, a force, more powerful than you thought possible launched from your fingertips, sending your Father flying backwards into the hard durasteel wall of the bunker.

You heard the collision through your unconsciousness, the bone meeting metal, the shattering of your Fathers skull rang in your ears. Once you were out of your trance you looked up, through red raw eyes you saw his body, laying there, limp and unmoving. His eyes were wide open, staring up at the ceiling, a single tear had leaked down his cheek. You had killed him. Your power was stronger than you knew, it was deadly. You were a monster. You wrapped your Fathers body in several comforters and dragged him into his quarters, before you locked the door shut and never opened it again.


You shivered in your cot, looking over at the spot on the wall where your Father met his untimely death. You felt your own tears begin to fall, he had been gone for so long, but the pain inside you had never gone away. Your Mother, Asha, died in childbirth. You didn't remember her face, or ever feel her embrace but you knew she was a beautiful, powerful, force sensitive woman who your Father loved more than he could have ever loved you. But now, you were an orphan, living alone in complete isolation from the rest of the galaxy. 


All you wanted was a loving family, a name, a destiny. A reason for living. You couldn't be destined to stay inside of a confined bunker for the rest of your life. Your Father trained you every day since you could walk. He had finely tuned you into a weapon, a killer, in the hope that if anyone were to find you, especially a member of the First Order, then you would be able to survive.


The First Order ruled over the Galaxy, coming into power shortly before you were born. The ruthless dictatorship had send a warning out across the stars, that any living being with the force would be executed or sent into slavery to work for the First Order. So to save your life, you were born in the bunker, kept hidden from your enemies, unlike so many others who were put to death just because of their gift. 


Your Father had explained that the First Order had methods for testing whether or not you were force sensitive. They would test your blood for you midichlorian count, tiny microscopic cells in your blood would give the First Order all the evidence they needed to kill you. You knew your blood couldn't lie. Your Father tested you soon after your first bornday. Your Father told you that your count was 19,000. You never understood what that meant, but it seemed to worry him; and he never elaborated on the matter again.


Once your breath had slowed down and you felt rested, you got back on your feet. Your moved your aching legs, stretching your arms above your head as you walked to the small kitchen area. You got yourself a bottle of aquilie water and a bowl of ration bread. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. You also helped yourself to a moon muffin, seeing as it was your bornday. Your Father had stocked the bunker to the brim was drinks and portions, enough to keep you nourished. You ate the doughy, flavourless mixture, followed by the sweet cake, and sat back down on your cot. 


You laid back, trying to get comfortable, but your bones ached. As well as your body, you also felt a dull pain in the side of your head, lurking behind your left eye. You squeezed both eyes shut and held your forehead, rocking back and forth trying to alleviate the pain.


"Ugh...not now." You groaned. The intense migraine making your jaw clench.


You had been getting several of these headaches recently, they came from nowhere, attacking you every time you stopped and rested for a moment. 


"Please go away..." You mumbled, laying down on your cot and covering your head with one of your soft pillows.


Crrrrrrrk. Sssssh. Crrrrk.


The unusual noise startled you, you sat up, clutching your head as you looked around. The comlink was flashing.