Daylight

18.The Shapeshifter

Keeping track of time was always easy for me, no matter where I was. Keeping journals that kept up with every event in my life was easy to keep track of, no matter what I caused. For me, it was necessary. I kept track of every day, every major event, every injury, and every person I've killed since becoming the kind of person I was. Yes, some aspects of my life are still under the Jedi, but what would you do if you had to survive independently? I've had so many people hunting me down; I would always forget where I learned so many things and how to fight until I was staring down into the eyes of a dead and lifeless body. My vast knowledge may have come from Luke, my parents, and the old Gray Jedi journal I once found but everything else I've taken from both the Resistance and the First Order. Not that any side knows I've done that. Sitting on the floor against the bed I slept in; I reached into the bag I always carried with me on my travels and grabbed the only writing utensil I had, and opened up the most crucial journal to date.

There was the difficulty being in space, especially aboard a ship that's always moving. Trying to figure out where the sun is based on what side we're on wasn't an option to find out what time it was. The one thing I did know at the time, no matter where I was, was that exhaustion was making it worse to be anywhere. I so desperately wanted to sleep but not here. I tried to relax my body without fear or danger of being attacked, but not here. I tried to sleep under the stars in a place that didn't house me with another killer, but not here. I would instead be surrounded by stormtroopers than be a room away from Kylo Ren. The door to my room suddenly opened as I felt his force coming through before I dare to look up from my book as his boots came very close to knocking into my knees.

"You should be sleeping." He sounded tired as the small light from the corners of the room barely gave off anything as I kept writing. But what surprised me was that it didn't sound like he had his helmet on, but it still sounded distorted. Does he have another kind of helmet people don't know about?

"So why aren't you?"

"You're bothering me." Furrowing my brows, I looked up as far as his boots but didn't go further up his body, even though I could barely make out the shape of his shoes. They were dirty on the bottom. Did he go somewhere? Or does he not clean his shoes like ever?

"I don't see how that's my problem, Commander. I'm just writing in my journal to keep track of my days here." I said out of boredom and trying to get him out as quickly as possible. Rubbing the back of my head, the headache from a few hours ago was still there as I flipped some hair behind my exposed shoulder.

"You're ignoring something physical. I can feel it."

"Well, I'm not injured in any way, so maybe you're going crazy or require sleep more than me," I commented, dropping my gaze back down onto the journal. Could he feel my headache? And why would that bother him? Maybe he wasn't used to having the company never sleeps.

"Well, then, find a way to fix whatever it is!" He shouted out as I reached into my bag to grab the orange bottle before chucking it into the air as I heard him catch it.

"What is this?"

"A sleeping aid that has been empty for weeks. What's bothering you is the headache I get when I'm not on that. Didn't realize you're so sensitive to your guests." I commented under my breath as I spoke the last sentence. I could faintly hear the crinkling of his leather gloves around the bottle before he shifted away from me but never left the room. Watching him walk over to the only light in the room, I looked up to see him dressed differently, but he did have a different mask on. Hmm, weird.

"Medication?" He sounded so surprised yet intrigued, and it caught me off guard enough to the point where I couldn't look away from him in the dim lighting. But something in his voice made everything feel off. The force around him was dark and cold, a feature I realized when he gets upset, but it was intense to a point where he'll lash out. Why was he acting like this?

"No wonder why you don't sleep for more than an hour." He spoke under his breath but loud enough for me to catch it as I dropped my gaze the second he started to turn his body towards me, my eyes landing on his boots again. Why did everything about him right now seem to bug the hell out of me!?

"Well, with the nightmares and the bonus of destroying things when I sleepwalk, it's probably best I don't sleep there for more than an hour or two. You should be happy your ship isn't in pieces by now." I decided to give him a fact about me since apparently, he's trying to gain my trust somehow as he walked towards me.

"What do you mean destroying things?" His voice was filled with more than just curiosity as I heard a smidge of concern as I looked down at my journal again. Should I go this far? Or end it with something simple?

"It's just something that's happened for several years now, mostly based on PTSD. There's nothing to worry about." I didn't want to stay on this subject long. I still hated the guy, and this wouldn't gain my trust for both of us.

"You're still in pain." He pointed out as the little detail was standing out to him more than the fact I could destroy his ship in one eight-hour sleep schedule.

"I'll deal with it. Besides, I'm human, unlike you, and pain is just natural to us. So unless something else is bothering you about me, please move on and leave. I'm busy." I remarked.