THE HUNT

Twenty Three

    I can't fall back asleep.

    The image of Imrie's blank face is engrained into my mind, and I can't escape it.

    I almost killed him.

    Granted, it wasn't real. But it felt real, and it opened my mind to the possibility that Ren could potentially force me to kill him one day, controlling my body with that power he has. The power he still hasn't explained to me. I know Bazzra used it to heal me, mentioning that they use it for evil. I can see how that could be the case. Ren forced me to kill Casius.

    After what feels to be an entire day, I can hear Ren's footsteps enter the room again. I lay on my side, facing outwards with my eyes closed. I don't dare open them as I hear him kneel in front of me. I make an effort not to flinch as the calloused pads of his fingers rest on my cheek, pushing hair behind my ear.

    "I'm sorry." He whispers, pulling the comforter up over me closer. My heart pounds, but he draws away fairly quickly. I crack my eyes open in time to see him leave the room, dressed fully in his armour. He doesn't look back. As soon as the door slides shut, I roll out of the bed, lunging towards the light switch. The room illuminates, and I look around. It looks the same as when I saw it before. I try the door, but it doesn't slide open.

    So I decide to explore. The room he went into when I first arrived looks to be an office. It has a large metal desk, with a datapad resting perfectly straight in the middle. I rush over to see what's on it, but there's a password. Instead of trying to break into it- I was never skilled with technology, I yank open one of the drawers, snorting as I lift a pile of paper stained with calligraphy. It's all nonsense, probably in a different language.

    When I return to the main room, my eyes catch the side of the wall.

    The books piled messily along the shelf are in different languages. Huttese, Basic, High Galactic, Mando'a, and Ryl, all of which I can recognize from my limited interactions with speakers of the languages. There are others that I don't recognize, and I scoff. Of course he's well-learned. He probably grew up impossibly wealthy.

    I wonder how he fell into this position of power, how he turned into such a monster.

    In time, I take every tome from its place, piling them in alphabetical order, separated by the languages. I spend several hours doing this, and by the time Kylo Ren returns, I've just stepped back, admiring my work.

    He stumbles in, starting as he notices me. Almost as if he forgot that he trapped me in here.

    It only takes a moment before he collapses, unconscious. I watch him for a moment, stunned.

    I consider leaving him to die, but then I'd be trapped in here with his rotting corpse.

    But if I let him live, he'll kill countless other people.

    There's an ever widening pool of blood spreading around him, and I don't want another body on my soul.

    So I curse, dropping to my knees beside him. It takes considerable effort for me to roll him over on his back, but when I do, I see the source of his pain.

    A long gash stretches from his waist to his chest. I wince, turning to grab one of the thinner, less puffy sheets from the bed.

    Honestly, who needs so many blankets?

    I pull his shirt up, pressing the fancy fabric to his wound, putting my entire weight on it. He flinches, jolting back into consciousness. Seeing me, he seems to relax, resting his head on the tile floor. I press harder, and he grits his teeth.

    "You have to get someone else to do this, Ren." I snap. "I hate you. I want you dead."

    "Yet you're saving my life." He slurs, voice almost inaudible.

    "Because there's no way in hell I'm going to be stuck in here with your dead body until I die." He laughs harshly, and an inexplicable rage fills me.

    "I'm sorry." He says, almost as if he thinks he's going to die. "For everything." He groans, and for some reason, my stomach twists. "I just wanted a-" He stops. "I didn't want to just be revered."

    "And what did you want, Ren?" I snap. "A slave? An enemy?" A moment passes, and he meets my gaze, carefully.

    "A friend."