I smelled it before I saw it.

Bacta. The sickly sweet aroma wafted over me in a way that made my stomach churn, and I waited a few moments before letting my eyelids flutter open. There was no sound except the soft whirring of machinery, which means - by some strange circumstance - I didn't appear to be in a holding cell.

At least, not yet.

When I finally opened my eyes, it took me a few moments to adjust. The medbay was brightly lit, a few medical droids working quietly in the corner, and there were no occupants besides myself and what appeared to be an unconscious man in the far corner. Even the massive bacta tank in the corner was empty. I blinked a few times to clear the sluggishness from my brain, no doubt from whatever sedative they injected me with when they dragged me onto the First Order transporter, but a distinct haze settled over me that I discovered I couldn't fight. Like lead coursing through my veins, everything around me seemed to be moving at hyperspeed while I lagged behind.

I tried to push myself upright, limbs heavy and shaking from the effort, but my arms quickly buckled and I collapsed to the bed with a heavy whoosh of air leaving my lungs.

"You're awake," a droid approached me. "One moment please."

Flicking a finger over its arm, the droid pulled up my file on its holoscreen before humming softly to itself. I tried to sneak a look at the data, but all of the words and numbers on the screen appeared to be a garbled mess in my half-conscious state.

"You should be feeling some lightheadedness and disorientation," the droid stated, closing the file and reaching forward to check one of the tubes snaking around my body and into my arm. "That's to be expected."

I winced as he pulled the needle from me without warning and glared up at him, but he paid me no attention as he continued his work. Taking the opportunity to assess my condition, I tried to sit up once more only to be shoved roughly back into the thin mattress beneath me.

"Please refrain from moving."

While I wasn't strapped to the bed, I was still a prisoner of the First Order, so it's unlikely that I'd find any kindness in the stark, cold interior of the medbay. Even droids programmed to maintain an optimal bedside manner can tell the difference between personnel and prisoner, and they probably wouldn't hesitate to kill me should I attempt to defy orders.

I let myself sink an inch into the rough white fabric beneath me, my fingers clutching at the sides as my whole body tensed under the droid's clinical examination. Everything ached - from the tips of my toes to the headache pounding steadily in my skull - and I gritted my teeth, squeezing my eyes tightly, as the droid touched a particularly painful bruise on my knee.

"Your leg is healing nicely," he concluded, checking the bacta patch covering the large wound slashing down my shin.

The door to my right slid open, and my eyes snapped to it as a stormtrooper enters the medbay. Instead of the immaculate white armor I was accustomed to seeing, this one wore gleaming chromium and stood well over six feet tall. My breathing escalated as the trooper approached, and it stopped in front of the droid without acknowledging my presence.

"Is the prisoner available for transport?"

The voice startled me. It was higher than I expected, although still somewhat filtered through the helmet, and I realized that the trooper in front of me was a woman. The black cloak draped over her shoulder is likely to signify rank, meaning this wasn't a grunt soldier being sent to collect me. This was a high-ranking officer of the First Order, and I highly doubted that was a sign of anything good.

"Yes, Captain," the droid responded.

A cold metal hand wrapped around bicep and hefted me upright, promptly causing the room to spin. Pain shot through my temple, and I clutched at it for a second before being pulled off the thin mattress to my feet. My boots were gone, along with my jacket, causing me to shiver as my bare feet hit the icy metal floor.

"Come," the trooper next to me commanded, and I dared not disobey even though my legs threatened to collapse.

The door leading out of the medbay whirred open, and I found myself in a dark corridor. Whoever my escort was, this Captain, I wasn't certain, but the stormtroopers and First Order officers that we passed in the hall appeared to show her some sort of deference that only served to frighten me further.

We made it twenty paces before my knees buckled.

I squeezed my eyes shut, anticipating the impact, but the grip on my arm disappeared to wrap around my waist and heft me upright. Leaning away from the trooper, I tried and failed to push away and I could hear her audible sigh.

"Your cooperation would be much appreciated it."

Studying the chromium helmet, I blinked slowly. Cooperation? What sort of cooperation did they hope to get out of me? They'd captured me, murdered my family, destroyed my home planet. And now I was supposed to do what exactly, pledge my allegiance to the virus seeping through the galaxy and destroying everything worthwhile?

The trooper ignored my hesitation whilst dragging me further down the hallway. My muscles screamed in protest, but the grip around my waist was far too strong for me to fight. It wasn't long until another door opened in front of us, this time revealing a dark, unfurnished room, and I was promptly deposited inside.

She left me without saying another word.

My body slid to the floor without hesitation, and I allowed my head to fold over so my forehead could press against the cool floor. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves and exhaled shakily. The room I'd been brought to appeared to be a holding cell of some sort, devoid of furniture or markings on the wall. A single red light illuminated the tiny space from the ceiling, just barely allowing me to see my surroundings, and I forced myself upright to lean against the far wall.

I didn't know what to expect. Interrogation was likely. Death would soon follow, especially once they discovered what I know. Or rather, what I don't know.

My father had worked under Lanever Villecham, the Chancellor of the New Republic, but - as a low-level politician - his role was wildly unimportant. He spent most of his day running errands and filing reports along with his colleague Korr Sella, and my uncle's trade was even less interesting. An alcohol exporter on Corellia, he'd left Hosnian Prime after being expelled from the Hosnian Prime flight academy, and he spent his time investing in more ludicrous pursuits. We were nothing - I was nothing - and I knew it was only a matter of time until the First Order discovered that truth and disposed of me accordingly.

I'm not sure how long I spent alone in the cell, drifting in and out of consciousness, until the door slid open and two unarmed stormtroopers walked in. I pushed myself into the back corner, pulling my knees up to my chest, and clenched my fists tightly.

"On your feet," one of them commanded.

I stared at him until his colleague groaned. He reached for me, and I lashed out instantly. My fists slammed against his armor, knuckles screaming under the pain of impact, and the trooper stumbled backward a step before retrieving a small device from his belt and jamming it into my neck.

Electricity coursed through my body as I crashed to the ground, tears welling in the corner of my eyes, as the stormtrooper straightened.

"Fucking Rebel scum," he spat, his voice filled with loathing.

The first trooper stepped around him, grabbing my arm and pulling me upright, and I winced at the pain shooting up my spine. My skin tingled from the after-effects of the shock, a million needles piercing through my flesh simultaneously, and I struggled weakly before a pair of restraints were placed around my wrists.

They transferred me to another holding cell, this one marginally larger than the first, with a narrow cot nestled against one wall with a small 'fresher in the opposite corner. Nothing more than a toilet and a tiny sink, my stomach twisted at the thought of relieving myself in front of the cameras that were likely monitoring this cell, and I frowned as one of the stormtroopers pushed me forward on my knees before releasing the restraints.

"Enjoy your stay," he quipped, his buddy slapping him on the shoulder.

He grabbed the device from his belt once more, laughing as I scrambled backward, before jabbing it into my neck once more. Convulsions racked my body, this time longer than before, until black dots began to swarm my vision. My body stiffened, all motor function ceased, and what couldn't have been more than thirty seconds stretched into an eternity.

The trooper stopped as soon as he started, a muffled gasp barking from his helmet, and his empty hand gripped at the air around his neck.

"I believe your orders were to transport the prisoner to a long-term confinement cell, FN-5294."

A familiar voice spoke behind him, and my eyes widened in fear. The second trooper whirled around to see Kylo Ren standing behind him, hand outstretched, before he nodded his head imperceptibly for him to leave. Abandoning his partner, the trooper scrambled to escape just as the first trooper - still immobilized - was deftly thrown out of the cell and into a crumpled heap in the hallway.

He made no movement toward the trooper, who had yet to recover, but turned his attention toward me instead. A towering figure draped in black, I could barely make out the detail of his helmet in the low-light of the holding cell they'd placed me in, and I pushed my aching muscles to slide backward until my spine pressed against the edge of the cot.

"Don't be afraid," he said, stepping forward before crouching down in front of me. "Tell me what I want to know, and this will all be over soon."

I resisted the urge to snort. I'd heard rumors of this man - this thing - in front of me. Kylo Ren, the mighty fist of the First Order, who leaves nothing but destruction in his wake. The entire galaxy had heard of him by now, although I was surprised to realize that the reality was worse than the rumors. Tall and drenched in black, even hunched over in front of me, his entire presence exuded power.

Power and fear.

He chuckled, a distorted sound through his mask, and my eyes widened. His leather-gloved hand stretched toward my face, stopping an inch from my skin, before I felt it. A subtle force pressing against the edges of my mind that tightened painfully with every passing second. Panic shot through me at the sensation, and I felt my body go rigid as my forehead scrunched up in pain.

"It doesn't need to hurt," his voice rumbled as a tear rolled down my cheek.

That's when I realized what was happening. I'd spent the last ten years of my life in silence, unable to speak, and relied on technology, basic sign language, and the support of my family to allow me to communicate. I couldn't use my voice, and somehow I'd almost forgotten that I had one. I'd become complacent in my solitude, comfortable and safe with the walls around my thoughts protecting me from harm, but - in that instant - I felt them quake and threaten to topple.

He can hear me. Oh god, he can hear me.

Everything in me screamed in resistance, and - while the force continued to push against my skull - I forced myself to think of something else. To think of anything else. I thought of the hanging gardens on Hosnian Prime, just outside the Republic City, and the massive sandstone pyramid nestled in the middle. Each floor was hollow in the center, allowing plants to grow both inside and outside of the structure. I focused my thoughts on my favorite trees that could only be found inside the pyramid - tall and willowy, I loved it when they bloomed with fragrant baby blue flowers. My father once told me that the flowers were known as a sign of new birth, of peace and prosperity, and that I could always find peace in their presence.

It was that semblance of peace that I clung so desperately to now, even as the grip on my thoughts continued to tighten. I inhaled sharply, and I could taste the metallic tang of blood from where I'd bitten my lip in my concentration. Tears poured down my cheeks, swirling with the dirt and grime that had caked on my face since I'd become a refugee, and I gritted my teeth as I focused on pushing the foreign sensation away from my mind.

Then, unexpectedly, it stopped.

Kylo Ren moved away from me in an instant, his breathing heavy through the mask, and he whirled around to slam his fist into the wall next to him. I curled myself inward at the display, wishing desperately that I could disappear, as his hand traveled to his waist.

I'd never seen a lightsaber before, and I prayed that I'd never see one again. Blood red and jagged, cut through the metal of my prison like butter as he raged around me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I could hear it buzzing above my head. Shards of metal fell around me, and I waited - terrified - for the blade to be turned on me. My left hand grasped at the crystal around my neck, no longer hidden beneath my tunic, and I remembered the prayer my mother taught me when I was young. She said it during her daily meditation, which she insisted I join, even though my father teased her and called it nothing but a fairytale. Something about it was comforting now, something I couldn't explain, and I clung to it desperately.

I am one with the Force, the Force is with me. I am one with the Force, the Force is w--

"I can see why they protected you," the voice seethed, interrupting the sounds of destruction around me.

Blinking away tears, I glanced up at him. His shoulders shook with emotion, and his hand still gripped the activated lightsaber. I could feel the heat radiating off it, and I found myself wishing that my death would be quick.

"But you should know that their sacrifice was worthless."

Another day, another update. Are you freaking out yet?

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