𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 | anakin skywalker

8 - 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐝

(y/n)'s POV
"Kill him," he whispered in my ear from where he stood behind me, his tall, threatening figure towering over me.

My hand shook uncontrollably as I aimed directly at the man's forhead. The man pleaded, begging for his life. He screamed out the names of his family, hoping they would bring hesitation into my mind. Yet all I could think about, all I feared, was the thought of what father will do if I don't pull the trigger.

"Kill him now, (y/n). He betrayed us, and he will only continue to do so for as long as he breathed. You're not doing anything wrong, bad people deserves to die." Father continued whispering in my ear, his hands planted on my shoulders. "Pull the trigger, little lion." He ordered for the last time before I finally moved my finger the last inch, a loud bang echoing throughout the alleyway, my father's now ex co-worker collapsing limply onto the ground, his eyes wide and lifeless as a final tear rolled down his blood splattered cheeks.

I jolted up in my bed, my gaze darting around the room as beads of sweat rolled down my face. Just another nightmare. I laid back down with a sigh, already knowing Tennon has heard everything. "How long?" I asked, loud enough for him to hear from where he stood outside my cell.

"You tossed and rolled for approximently five minutes, a few whimpers here and there." He spoke up, walking in front of the bars so we could see each other. "So, was this another wet dream or another nightmare?" He asked with crossed arms, his expression somewhat amused.

"A wet dream?" I scoffed, "I could only hope to recieve one of those instead." I muttered, sitting up in my creaky bed, leaning my back against the hard wall. I saw his mouth open as he was clearly going to speak again, though I felt pretty done with this topic. "How is everything going after the riot?" I asked before he could dig any deeper.

"Well, there was a total of eighty-four deaths, inmates and employees included. The clean up teams are working hard to fix what was broken and remove every drop of blood that remains." He shared the information that he's not really supposed to share.

"Good luck with that, the floors were practically painted red." I sighed, closing my eyes while leaning my head back against the wall. Even melatonin doesn't help me sleep better. These damn nightmares are what's breaking me, not this cell, not this asylum, just my memories coming back to haunt me.

"You'll have a visitor in around half an hour, thought you should know." He said, suddenly feeling the need to share yet another thing he's not supposed to. "A psychologist." He added.

"Tell her it's not going to happen." I uttered, annoyed he would even agree to let another psychologist try to convince me their sessions would be good for me. I see therapy sessions as a way of torture, call me dramatic, but nothing can or will change my mind. I have no interest of reliving my life in a small room with a nosy stranger.

"First of all, it's not a she this time, and he's quite young, around your age, actually." He revealed, and it would be lying to say that didn't spike my interest just a little.

"He's still bearing the same intensions. We've been through this, already, Tennon. I am nothing more but a task to them, a broken object they need to fix in order to get paid and feed their petty families." I explained, again. It seems like my cellguard has been having a hard time absorbing my words lately.

"All I ask is that you give him a chance. Who knows, maybe he can help you with your nightmares. I know they've not only become more vivid, but you've been having them more often as well." He said, giving me the same pleading look he puts on every time he wants something from me, in this situation, optimism and I suppose accpetance.

"We'll see when he shows up." I replied, hoping this conversation would finally come to an end, at least for now.

☠︎

"So, you're inmate 501." I opened my eyes the minute I heard the familiar voice speak from the other side of the bars.

"Skywalker, I should've known it was your request to see me. Especially after yesterday's little collab." I stared him up and down while shifting in my bed to sit up straight. "How's the girl?" I asked, not out of worry—I know she's fine—but to start conversation, obviously.

"Ashoka is doing okay, thanks to you." He answered, flashing me a small, grateful smile.

"Get to the point, Skywalker. Are you here for the same reason as every other psycologist or did you just want to thank me?" I inquired, crossing my arms over my chest as I stood up from my bed, stepping towards the bars.

"I got fired because I was near death furing the riot. Mike doesn't want to be responsible for the Mayor's son's death. But, I've convinced him to let me stick around if you agree to let me be your psychologist." He explained, his eyes piercing my own.

"So you need my help, again?" I asked, wrapping my fingers around the bars, resting my forhead on the bars as well. Call me crazy for enjoying the way he uncomfortably took a step back, it was just the affect I had on people.

He nods in confirmation, "yes, and before you say no, you don't have to answer truthfully to my questions. Make up a backstory if you want to, (y/n). But even thought my future here is on the line, I do genuinely wish to help you."

"I'll agree, in one condition," let's be real here, I'm not going to tell him anything remotely close to the truth of my past, but that doesn't make him completely useless. He is the Mayor's son after all. "I want a list."

The young man frowned, "a list? You're gonna have to a bit more specific."

"A list with the names of every inmate in this place who's charged with sexual abuse. Do that, and we have a deal." I negotiated, and I could see his body tense once the words escaped my lips.

"...I'll see what I can do. If I manage to put one together I'll deliver it to you in our first session." Ah, I see what he did there. Smart man. A way to get me to actually show up.

"You better have it." I muttered with a sigh, turning around to walk back to my bed. "Take him away, Tennon." I said loud enough for my cellguard to hear.

"Monday, 12 o'clock." He said, and I could tell he was biting back a grin of pride as Chris placed his hand on his shoulder.

"Don't hold your breath, Skywalker."

☠︎

"So, you're telling me that (y/n) (y/l/n) has agreed to be your pasient?" Mike asked suprised, leaning back into his office chair.

"Yes, sir." I nodded, feeling a tinge of pride at his baffled expression.

"Tell me, how did you get her to agree in the first place, Doctor?" He asked, his look of suprise morphing into a look of question and slight suspicion.

"I happened to run into her during the riot. I'm not sure why she spared me, but I do believe it's connected to the fact that I'm the Mayor's son." I told him, quickly coming up with a believable excuse.

Mike went quiet, tapping his chin with his index finger as he thought to himself before speaking up. "Makes sense.." he mumbled with a light nod, his gaze locked on the desk. "I want you to write a report after every session you have with (y/l/n). If you manage to uncover the true story of her past, boy, you will make one hell of a reputation for yourself as a psychologist." He added, lowering his hand to tap his fingers on the desk.

"So.. does this mean I get to keep my job?" I asked carefully, not wanting to asume anything just yet.

A sly smile formed on his face, "of course."

☠︎