DEFIANT • kylo ren (18+)

03 - Your thoughts are a distraction.

Your eyes open slowly, squinting, to reveal the last place you wanted to be. Back in the cell. Your mind races over the events of what you assume was yesterday, you have no way of knowing. Disbelief laces your thoughts as you recall your actions for the masked Commander. Never will you allow yourself to be so vulnerable to him again. You can't.

After a drink, you wonder if they will feed you. The tray from your escape attempt has been cleared, stripping you of any hope to gain back some strength. Maybe that's why you haven't been fed, they know you're weak and want to keep you this way. Your wrist feels a lot better, which is something.

You decide to drink more water, hoping to fill the void in your stomach that aches for nutrition.

Next, you stretch while you meditate, needing to feel some sort of connection to your old life and happiness. Thinking of yoga back at the resistance base, pretending you have a mat beneath you, you stretch your limbs. Holding your ankles, touching the floor, standing on your head to stretch your legs in the air.

You have to be careful and slow with your wrist but just the small thrill of the blood rushing to your head is enough for your meditation to thrive. You can feel everything. The Force is everywhere. You know where the Commander is, speaking with a General in such passion, such rage it almost leaks into you. You try to clear your thoughts of his negative energy, focusing instead on the location of escape pods.

You can't find them. You drop to the ground, your head in your hands, frustrated that he distracted you. You lay there on the cool floor, flipped over onto your back, and stare at the ceiling. You follow the patterns until you land on something you hadn't noticed before. A way out?

Eyeing the vent, strangely painted to match the tiles of the ceiling, you consider it as an escape. It looks small, but you decide you could fit, pushing yourself to your feet and reaching for it on your tip toes. The ceiling is far too high for you to reach, even jumping your fingers barely scrape the metal. You sigh and relax your body. No chance.

Sitting on the bed, if it can even be called one, you begin to think back to Kylo Ren. Somehow, no matter what you're doing, his broad shoulders and large leathered hands creep into the forefront of your mind. His deep, commanding voice. You play with the hem of your top, reminded of the way he gripped it.

Gods, stop! You have to stop.

Instead of thinking about it, you look to where your fingers fiddle the tshirt, scrunching your nose up at the sight of yourself. Dirtied and bruised.

A wash. You need a wash. Your skin seems to crawl with hatred and dirt the more you ponder a hot steamy shower. Soap. Bubbles. A deep warm bath. You hum under your breath, imagining water coating you, a scrubber or a sponge soaping your smooth skin. Anger bubbles deep inside of you when you snap your eyes open to the sight of the grey cell.

How dare they keep you in here and deprive you of basic needs. How dare he.

Bitter and enraged, you pull the top up over your head despite the stinging of your wrist, to expose your white lace bra. You realised quite quickly that you'd been left in it and must've been wearing it when you were captured. Throwing the top across the room, you stand to wiggle the shorts down, the matching lace panties for your bottom half. Heated by the hatred for your captors you begin to bang on the door, not caring that the bruises from the last time were still stinging your fists.

"HEY." You shout, clanging your hands against the metal of the door. Your wrist is inflamed, but you've stopped caring. "AT LEAST HAVE THE DECENCY TO LET ME SHOWER." Your throat roars, voice cracking at the raised volume. You kneel over, a coughing fit rising in your throat, coughing so hard you feel like your lungs might explode from your ears. Your chest wheezes. "Fucking pricks." You hold your chest, coughing still, holding a middle finger up to the camera in the corner.