Surrendering to the Dark

The Marking

I stumbled back through the balcony doors and fell upon my knees. Barely noticing the pain, all I felt was shock and disbelief. After what we experienced yesterday, how could he leave without saying a word; without even saying goodbye. No other explanation sufficed. He wanted to break me.

I knew the pain in my chest was born of heartbreak. I had been stupid enough to fall for him knowing how it would end—with me used and broken—forever comparing every other man to him. But what about how our Force-signatures joined and what about the marks?

Remembering the branding on my skin, I studied the mark again. It had not changed or faded. Something warm and wet dripped upon the mark. It took me a moment to realize it was my own salty tears. The shock of his departure was ebbing away. Now, I passed into the grieving stage of heartbreak. I knew all too well from watching my father that this stage could last for years.

Hot tears poured from my eyes in an endless river. When in my agony I forgot to breathe, hiccups ensued as my diaphragm spasmed painfully. Lying on the floor of my room, I curled into a fetal position, curling into myself; making myself as small as possible, hoping to disappear—anything to take this pain away.

When my tears ran dry and my naked body shivered from the cold, I crawled over to my chair. The fire was out, but I hoped for a few live coals to build anew as I poked at the ashes. Not even one ember survived the night—not even one sliver of hope lived. I doubted I would ever feel warm again.

Wrapping myself in a blanket, I collapsed back in my chair and there I stayed. Cleaning droids came through, but except for allowing them to build a new fire, I banished them from my room. I didn't want anything changed. For now, I wanted to punish myself with memories of last night by occasionally looking over at his discarded towel on the floor and the ruined bed linens. The torn strips were still individually fastened around my wrists. I left them there. They were a sign of my bondage.

How did he fool me so well? He made me believe he cared about me.

The pain would come in waves of anguish, fresh tears erupting and stinging as they rolled down the raw skin of my face. It was late evening before I ventured around my room again. Stripping the ruined linens from my bed,  I threw them in the fire along with the ties on my arms. The only memories I couldn't discard were the ones on my skin; the bruises on both hips from were his fingers dug in pulling me to him as he pounded into me, the reddened ligature marks around both my wrists, and of course, the symbol on my left pelvis.

I had attempted multiple times to reach out to his Force-signature and felt a total emptiness, much like the area where my heart once resided. He had severed our connection, effectively cleaving my soul in half.

The Supremacy

Ren

I finished building my walls right before making port on the Supremacy. Placing every block I knew how to in my mind, I needed to keep Snoke out without him knowing I was blocking him. He had summoned me here, ordering me to leave Sonet immediately. The Knights were present during his transmission and although I was their leader, I didn't fully trust all of them. I left as soon as Snoke ended his call pretending it didn't bother me.

As the elevator rose floor after floor to Snoke's throne room, I slowed my breathing and heart rate, wanting nothing to give me away. I had blocked my Force-signature from Torrence after leaving Sonet. I couldn't let Snoke feel her presence while around me.

When the elevator door opened and I began my walk to the throne, I was Kylo Ren—master of the Knights of Ren—the Jedi Killer.

Snoke sat on his throne as usual, flanked by his Praetorian guards. He wore robes of royalty in the color of the finest refined minerals, but nothing could hide his monstrous features. His disfigured face always turned up in such a grotesque manner when he attempted to smile. He was a powerful Force-user, the embodiment of evil, and my master.