Kidnapped by Kylo Ren (Star Wars)

Chapter Five

I was praying that Kylo Ren wouldn't stop and make a visit to my cell ever again. I never wanted to see any bits of his armor, his unique lightsaber, his mask.

I never wanted to see his face again.

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I was so alone. 

It's been seventeen days since I was kidnapped. I count by the food deliveries. They bring me one basket of barely edible food and one water bottle per day. I've received seventeen baskets. Seventeen days. 

I have seen no one except the woman that brings me my food every day. Before she comes, the robot voice tells me to sit on my bed with my arms on the wall above my head and my legs extended. The door opens. She walks in, sets down the basket. She walks out. The door closes. I divide the food as the day goes on, only eating when I'm getting pangs of hunger.

I have seen no other place except the blank cell. When I need to go to the bathroom, I press a green button on the panel next to the door. A small toilet drops down in the corner of my room. I go. The toilet goes back up. The first few times I went, I couldn't help but try and hide myself from the cameras positioned around my room. You get used to it. You get used to the embarrassing thought that people may be watching you piss. 

I get to bathe once a week. I've done it two times. The robot tells me to stand against the wall next to the door and place my hands and feet flat against it. The handcuffs and shockers scared me the first them. They popped out of the wall and attached so fast it made me jump. The handcuffs attach to my hands, attach to each other, and the chain rolls up into one so that they're uncomfortably tight. The shockers attach to both of my ankles and if I act out of hand they will shock me with a very powerful shock. The woman that delivers my food takes me to shower ever week. She has a contraption she holds that can tighten or loosen my handcuffs and activate the shockers if needed.

She walks me to the shower room that's a few steps down the hall. I walk in first. The bathing room is tiny. The floors and walls are black. There's a mesh grate in the ceiling where the water gently flows through. There are two separate spaces in that room. One is when you walk in. There's a little black bench there, and that's where the woman sits. The other part is the showering area. There's a tiny section for me to enter and exit the shower and a black wall that goes up to my rib cage that separates the showering area from the place where the woman sits. I get five minutes and a bar of soap to shower. The handcuffs loosen but don't come off and neither do the shockers. 

At my first shower, the woman used sharp laser to get all my clothing off. That way I don't have to take off the handcuffs or shockers to shower. 

She wraps towels around me afterwards and walks me back to my cell. I walk into my cell, she doesn't. I stand against the wall by the cell door. The handcuffs and shockers come off and go back into the wall. There's always new papery clothes waiting on my bed. These clothes have Velcro so the woman can easily undo it at my next bathing session.

I know nothing about this woman except she has sleek and long black hair, tan skin, green eyes, and dresses in a skin-tight white body suit. I don't know her name. Where she's from. Why she's here. Why she's assigned to be my helper. I know nothing. 

I feel like if I'm kept here much longer I will go mentally insane. I am egged by my constant worry that I will be tortured, enslaved, or killed every day. Never do I stop wondering if they will use me for their force field. I always am contaminated by the hopeless hope that they will let me go. I have absolutely nothing to do except think about my life and what may become of it. I always am looking over my back to see if Kylo Ren is there to kill me. 

Do you know what it's like to have everything you know destroyed and then you have to worry about being destroyed as well? It is mental destruction to think about physical destruction. I never feel as powerful as they say I am, and I wish I wasn't. I would be dead if I wasn't powerful, just like everyone else in Tunstead. Anything is better than the state I'm in right now. 

So I guess I wouldn't mind if the people in The First Order were to kill me; however, the longer I am kept alive, the less likely I think that my death here is going to happen. Maybe I was going a little crazy.

I paced around my room on the eighteenth day. I took a bite of the chewy blue nutrition discs they gave me for food and thought more about escape. There's no way I could escape from the woman. I know if I could get a fair shot at her I could overpower her but I could never get a fair shot. Whenever I'm remotely close to her, I have my shockers on, so if I tried to make a move she would destabilize me and perhaps make me unconscious. I have handcuffs on, too, and that doesn't make my escaping situation better. 

I had a lot of time to think. Constantly my mind went back to the same plans, attempted to revise them, but all my revisions lead to the same thing; problems, and my recapturing. I could not think of a way out of this damned place. 

It was the twenty-sixth day. At that point, I wasn't looking for an escape. I was looking to see another person or to see a new place. When I was awake, I saw nothing but the white and black walls. I saw no one except the woman. When I was asleep, I saw nothing but my dead mother inside the white and black walls of my cell. Sometimes my friends would swap and be lying bloodied on the ground, but it still had me waking up sweating, crying, and screaming for them. 

My stress and desperation to at least see anyone except for that woman that I've grown to hate (not because she's done anything wrong, because she hasn't; she's provided me with food, water, and bathing. I hate her because she's associated with the place of my increasing derangement) pushed me to my breaking point. My breaking point caused me to formulate a plan. A plan I couldn't believe I didn't think of before. The plan was risky, and if it went wrong, could result in some serious consequences. 

It was consequence enough being in this mentally discomposing place. I decided to go for it. 

Day twenty seven. I awoke early in the morning. Last night, for the first time in a long time, I had slept dreamless. Last time, for the first time in a long time, I didn't wake up with gut-wrenching sobs for the dead people of Tunstead. I was ready. 

Shortly after I woke up, the robotic voice told me to go against the wall with my arms against the wall above my head and my legs extended. I did so, but as I was sitting, I summoned momentum and began bouncing up and down gently on my bed. Ready to pounce. 

The white door slid open. I saw the woman. My bed-that-never-squeaked-or-creaked didn't give away my bouncing. I increased the height of my bouncing on the mattress, even though it chafed my arms. She set down the basket and stood up. She looked at me and saw me bouncing. Her face turned from a poker face to instant fear and surprise.

I instantly bounced off of the bed, and landed firmly. She had turned while I was in midair and rushed out the door. I kicked the food basket, hard. 

I was in disbelief. My plan had worked. The basket of food had stopped the door from shutting. 

There was no time to waste. The metal basket was being crushed, and the gap between the door and the wall was closing. I turned sideways and squeezed my way through the shutting gap. I got through, and the metal sliced in half. The door had closed all the way. I looked down one end of the hallway, and down the other. I was out. I could go. I was free. 

At that moment, I was free.

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Author's Note

So this chapter is just a little information on Nira's state. I wanted to make sure you all got a good grip of what she was going through at this time and that it wasn't some easy-going thing. That she's really suffering. 

Please vote and/or comment if you liked it or have suggestions and get the word out to your Star Wars friends! 

Thanks for reading! Will try and update again soon :)