The Devil's Touch | Kylo Ren

FOUR

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.

Those words ring around her mind like a cracking and splintering halo. She can still taste his blood upon her lips, but by the time Hux and Roberts have leaped into the room, she runs her tongue over the gloss of scarlet, and lets it sink on her taste buds with a capricious temptation, to desperately hide the remnants of her sins.

She watches the way Kylo Ren falls back, his lips covered in as much blood as the rest of his face and hands, but his eyes are a bursting of dark colours which is a clashing to the red – as the brown orbs widen at her, only to then droop heavily and roll to the back of his head.

The syringe is stuck perfectly in his neck, the sharpness of the silver, embedded into a large, pulsing vein which loses the battle to the attack of sedatives, which charge into the bloodstream, and kill off the light to his sombre consciousness.

Her lips are tingling with a sensation of dilettante, but the engagement of their once moving lips, was above serious – how she had allowed him to sway her into his evil grip, again, was unfathomable, but so was the spring of desire, an emotion in which she had never truely felt before, that started to coil in her guts and make a permanent home in her body.

Oh, Lord. Please save her – she is falling helpless to Kylo Ren's promiscuous tales and fastidious prompts and commands. He's a destructive hedonist, fuelled on the passion of darkness and the desideratum inside his uncaged lust, which needs to devour of her morality... and she's only placing her hands first, between his sharp teeth.

Patient 727 slumps to the floor, just the same as a dead body would fall out of a thrown coffin – limp and slack. His eyes are no longer ghostly haunting her conscience, but her strength which initially kept her cautious around him, as been buried in that same, empty hole where the casket was meant to reside.

Just as Father Hux practically stumbles into the room, showing more perfunctory dishevelment than she had ever witnessed him be before, her heart drops to the wet and soggy floors, where Kylo lays – for the very moment the three stand above him, and his mind finally drifts into a deep sleep, he whispers her new, misnomer name.

"Eve..."

She gasps low below her breath and her eyes widen down at him, as she stands to her feet. Tenderly, Father Hux claps his dainty and pale hand onto her shoulder, keeping his touch upon her for a little too long.

"Marvellous job, Sister." He praises the young one, clearly oblivious to the unconscious patient's calling to his holy and devoted, Sister.

The dark and grotesque cell is still spinning around her and wavering her senses into a massive whirl, which was like the sudden blur of a twisting kaleidoscope. Her mind is still clicking backwards like a broken clock, going over the rushed memories of how Kylo Ren had just kissed her so demandingly, only seconds earlier. She felt an emense amount of guilt as she stares flatly at the syringe in the pale inmate's neck, but she had to count her blessings and thank her Lord, that He was still looking out for her, and keeping prying eyes away, for now.

As Father Hux's hand finally slithers off her shoulder, her eyes tightly clutch closed, just as she listens to the muffle of his applauds for her sick and demented doings. She had kissed Kylo Ren again, willingly – but the Priest, nor dimwitted Guard had seen that, they only saw the syringe in his veins and his eyes rolled to the back of his scrambled head.

Oblivion was fogged in the baptismal of the sunken night, which rain had now seemed to elope the darkness of the sky, and patter upon the manor – sinking through the bricked roof, and then decaying upon the walls of every sickening and perilous cell in the deepest corridors of the west-wing.