Pet | Kylo Ren x Reader | Precious Pet Series | Book 1

Unmistakable Noise

Reconditioning wasn't as terrible as you had feared. You didn't feel reconditioned. You were bored. The elaborate chair you were strapped to was strangely comfortable. The black leather was nicely cushioned and slick. The metal of the chair was cold, yes, but none of your skin actually touched it. The room was warm enough that your gray gown felt like enough insulation, though it would certainly be nice if someone gave you some underwear.

You had to assume that the stormtroopers were given instructions not to hurt you because no one beat you when you fought. They had gripped you tightly, probably tightly enough to bruise, but there were no threats of violence. You didn't know how you had earned their tenderness, but you had tried to use it to your advantage. You had stomped on feet and thrashed in their clutches despite the wide cuffs on your forearms.

It had gotten you nowhere.

They had injected another one of their concoctions into you once you were secured. It was a clear serum and cold in your veins. You stared at the screen--image upon image fading in and out--taking up your field of vision and felt nothing different.

They were so sure you would break. Break from what? Break to allow in what? You didn't know.

Instead, you felt tired. You wanted to sleep. You let your head rest on the strap across your forehead and closed your eyes.

A 'trooper came in after an indeterminate amount of time to check on you. You stared at them. You wanted to snarl and snap and call them every filthy name you'd ever heard. The appearance of more 'troopers stopped you, though. You could abuse one, but five? No, you understood group mentality. If you egged them on too much, they would kill you where you sat. Orders be damned.

They put you back in cuffs and walked you in the opposite direction of the med wing. The hallways were bright despite the dark walls. You felt quite exposed and watched. In front of you was a hexagon-shaped station of controls with five uniformed officers busy within. There were hallways branching off from the main station.

You realized this was the detention center. You were a true prisoner now. The stormtroopers who were escorting you took you down C Hall and pushed you into a cell. They ordered you to stick your cuffed arms through the slot in the door, and you did so. They unlocked the cuffs, took them off you, and left.

The cell was lit from the grated floor. The metal grates hurt your bare feet. The hard platform protruding from the wall was a pitiful excuse for a bed. And it was the only comfort in the cell. In the corner was a toilet and sink combination. You sat down and wished for underwear or real trousers or a bra, for Maker's sake.

You were hungry, too.

You found out, after what felt like a couple of hours, that prisoners only got one meal and it was at 1200 GST. You reasoned your reconditioning was going to be as long and tedious and boring as your stay in the detention center.

The days went on like that, and you felt no different. You were no Order dog. You would never conform. They'd have to kill you, and you told them that much. Everyone ignored you.

On the third day, no one came to get you for your special session of ass-sitting. You paced in your cell until your feet hurt too much from floor. You felt off. Something was seriously wrong. You wanted to let out a wail for no reason you could comprehend. There was a sudden emptiness like something vital had been snuffed out. You sat with the smoke from a million embers inside you and stared at the opposite wall. You bided your time until you understood.

You heard footsteps coming down your hallway after meal time. Whoever it was, was coming for you. You could feel their intentions to see you, to feel you out. And, the more you reached out, the more angry you became.