The Devil's Touch | Kylo Ren

TWENTY

It was on the fifth day, Kylo Ren really lost his mind.

He hadn't seen her since that night, and the last memory that his bruised mind had desperately grasped onto before he fell into a black hole of withering bliss, was the image of her wet face looking down at him, and her warm hands almost burning the memory into his skin as it also has in the back of his tortured brain.

The sadistic part in him – the tiny devil upon his shoulder, whispered words of loathing and hatred into his ear and made his veins run cold with an unwelcomed feeling of hurt and betrayal. Though his brain had been melted and fried beyond repair, he still couldn't seem to find any logic as to why she had told Father Hux about the plan of escape – he understood that it may have been because she feared him, but then why did she cry and plead for his sparing when he was strapped to the bed?

Perhaps, his little Eve didn't truely know what she wanted until it was too late. Kylo could only think of it as if the biblical Eve had never plucked the apple and refused to listen to the sly tongue of the snake in the garden, but then was forever rotting away as she wondered what sweetness that forbidden fruit could have brought to her yearning tastebuds.

Kylo's not the one for apologies, in-fact he preferred to hear only people beg for forgiveness as he was already plunging his weapons into his victim's heart – but when Eve had whispered her remorse down to him, while the eyes of her faith all watch the treachery she bestowed in doing so, he knew one thing for certain.

She cared, and maybe too much for her own good. Kylo Ren had never been loved before, that and his own heart wasn't capable of producing such a thing either. Love was self-destruction in a mask of need. It's repentance which leads to salvational regret, and becomes the worldly companion of death itself – and though, he was still trying to figure out how the Sister could need and feel something further than passionate worship for him, Kylo presumed she was struggling with the comprehension as-well... for she had not crossed paths with him in four days.

Thunder may sound a warning, but it's too late for the lightning has already struck them both. Even Kylo is afraid that he may need further therapy, because his heart and mind is making noises – noises of pleads for her to come back to him. He's never felt this way before and for the first time in his whole life, he isn't able to hide, nor control his emotions. He cares for Eve, too.

And that is the only thing in which he sympathises for her, because his own hands will become the demise of her mortality.

The world is not fair. It is cruel and deadly, and the most merciless part of humanity is that the mortals upon the bombed, sinful land, somehow manage to find gold in the trenches of tragedy – but Kylo's guilty conscience is burning up in painful flames, for he doesn't want Eve to eventually find out that he is nothing but fools gold. A shine in the dark, but rotten on the inside. His darkness has always bled through, but Eve was as sick-minded as anyone in White-Ivy, for she only bandaged him back up and pretended as if she couldn't see the scarlet rising through the cotton of her devotion.

Kylo Ren threw his clenched fists against the walls of his cell and tried to punch through the cement as if he could still feel the fresh breath of liberty, seeping between the cracks of his permanent cage. His knuckles were bruised and sore, but the adrenaline coursing through his heavy veins was taking his tangled mind off the spin of his constant, annoying thoughts and wonders.

He had never been so lost before, usually he's ten steps ahead of everyone but Eve had completely swiped his feet from beneath him.

"727 –" A voice suddenly shouted, punching him harder out of his own mind than his forceful blows could ever lash out upon the walls, which keep slowly shrinking inwards and leaving the patient breathless with claustrophobia.