Devotion |Kylo Ren x Reader|AU|

~The Target~

Your day started off exactly the same. The same alarm tone, the same coffee shop, the same six-word text from your father saying he was going to be late again. The same boring routine that you endured every single day of your life. Sometimes you wished that things would suddenly change. That something would spring up and change your life forever. Even bad situations oftentimes developed into something better. Something greater.

You hated your life. And you hated yourself for hating it. Both of your parents were wealthy because of their hard work. From a young age you had always been spoiled, but pampered to become something more. They were just cracking the whip to put you in shape to become one of them. To become exactly like them. When they weren't yelling at you to do better or reprimanding you for something that you thought you had done well but apparently hadn't, their noses were buried in their work. Just once you longed to have a normal, happy relationship with them.

When you were younger, you saw mothers and daughters playing on the park. Fathers clutching the hands of their children to take them to ice cream shops. Instead you got to watch from afar with stacks of books in your hands and your own private tutors. Tutors, you might add, that were given permission to slap rulers across your palms when you 'misbehaved.'

Despite your parents' immense wealth, they never allowed you to travel anywhere with them. Your mother rarely did any traveling--that was all your father--but they never bothered to invite you. They always insisted that travel would be a privilege you earned once you took your rightful place. There was nothing but ridicule within your household. They always reminded you how much of a disappointment you were whenever you did something they didn't like much. Nothing was good enough for them. You had to find that out the hard way when you were only thirteen. Ever since then, you stopped trying to please them. They put you under their control.

Any friends that you had were practically hand-picked by your parents. They were all the sons and daughters of other wealthy coworkers and family-friends. You hated your fucking friends. They made you miserable. With their endless chatter about who was sleeping with who and who was wearing what to where and the latest item from Gucci that had dropped. It was endless competition. One of your 'friends' had bought a paperclip from Tiffany's for $1,500. Needless to say you bent that paperclip out of shape and stuck it in with the rest of them. The girl didn't even bat an eye.

Then there was your boyfriend. Tom. Where could you even start with Tom? You loved and hated him. Despised and adored him. For a while at least. He was practically the same as you; grew up wealthy and thrust into a world of high expectations from a young age. He could relate to you easily and liked to comfort you. Sometimes you laughed and sometimes you cried. He would talk about everything and anything. Tom was simple. Tom was old-fashioned. Tom was... boring. Tom was fucking boring. There was also more to him but you didn't quite like to talk about it. They were parts you had buried deep inside.

He never did anything outside of his comfort zone. His calls and texts were endless. The riskiest thing he had done with you was sneak out after his curfew and it was only to return something of yours you had forgotten in his car. Not to mention that he never really touched you. He was very... vanilla when it came to that field. That was years ago. Everything had taken an abrupt turn just months ago. A rather violent turn that you tried your hardest to disregard.

So that was Tom.

As you climb back into your car with a muffin in hand, all you could think about was Tom. You were thinking about ending things. It would absolutely crush him, but you felt it was appropriate. You used to love him but the thought of marrying him now made your toes curl in your overly-expensive shoes. The shoes that your father had bought you for your birthday. The shoes you had three identical pairs of because he had gotten you the same pair three times. Did he forget? Or did he not care enough to notice?