"I HAD NO IDEA WE HAD THE BEST PILOT IN THE RESISTANCE ON BOARD."

The sith apprentice’s deep voice pierced the stagnant, dry air in the prisoner cell. His voice was quiet, yet commanding. He didn’t need to yell when he was as intimidating and massive as he was. His mere presence could strike fear into the hearts of the strongest warrior. I didn’t falter, however- I didn’t have a choice, I couldn’t. I had known perfectly clear what I had signed up for when Leia had gave me this mission. I had been faced with the blunt fact, however daunting it may have been to others, that if I was captured, it was practically a guarantee of my death. And all the while I had known that it might have been my last, I only had one thought in that moment. At least maybe my death would give BB-8 just a little more time.. A little more time, anything at all was helpful to his mission, so long as he could get that map as far away as possible from the First Order..

Kylo Ren considered me as he walked in the room. I could only imagine the smirk dancing upon his lips from underneath the mask. His mere presence made me utterly sick. He used to be such a different person, but that person was now dead. The Ben I had known before as a child had been replaced by a monster, that much I knew for sure. I’m sure he just loved the sight of me bound in the interrogation chair, my arms restricted in firm stirrups at my side.

“Comfortable?” he asked cooly.

“Not really.”

“I’m impressed.” He took a deep breath, taking a brisk step closer. “No one has been able to get out of you what you did with the map.”

My eyes scanned him up and down. His voice had become gruff, territorial, frustrated that I had hid that secret from him.

So I held back a smirk. Jerking my head towards him, I advised simply, “You might wanna rethink your technique.”

His gloved hand flew to the space in front of my head instantly. I could feel the anger radiating off of him, growing in the atmosphere of that tiny, threatening room. I defiantly glared up at him, daring him to make a move. You don’t scare me.

All of a sudden, I felt a pulse of energy make impact. It took me a moment to realize it had come off of him like an attack. Unimaginable sadness began to overwhelm me. It overtook my body and my head fell submissively to my chest, tears threatening to bring to my eyes. Every bitter heartbreak, every shattered soul, every broken dream in the galaxy hit me all at once. I felt it stabbing at my heart as I heard the cries. Out of the blur, however, was the worst of them all. I heard a scream. A repressed yet familiar scream buried deep inside of my memories. My mother. How- How did he dig so deep? How was he able to pry so personally? My body shook with anger. My outraged eyes tried to meet his, but as I struggled against his attack, I found myself unable to. They stung with tears. I fought to hold them in, to not let them fall, but I also fought to keep Ben out of my mind. These memories weren’t his to see.

My mouth fell open involuntarily to let out an anguished grunt, an impassioned noise of the conflict in my head. I was fighting a losing battle, however; him prying in places he had no business of being in made me blind with fury, though it continued to happen. As a last ditch effort, I opened my mouth and screamed.

Suddenly, my head rushed back and slammed against the metal back of the chair. I felt a jolt of pain paralyzing my neck, a moan of discomfort hissing from my split lips.

As the metal struck my head and sent crippling shockwaves down my spine, my eyes jolted open.

I found myself thrust back in reality instantly. I was bolted upright in bed, the same bed on Poyter, the same bed in Uma’s house that I had fallen asleep in. I was in a cold sweat soaking through my white shirt, and though the bed was comfortable as can be, I was anything but. I found myself terrified. My heart thumped like an out-of-sync bass drum, and I felt like I couldn't breathe- like I had been impaled. My chest heaved up and down, up and down. My hickory eyes were blown wide. I felt a scream escape my sore throat, my muscles contracting in painful tight clenches.

“Mmh?” Alya stirred from next to me. She must’ve sensed my panic. Despite the pillow barrier we had enacted, she reached over and tossed it aside without a care. She could feel my movements in the creaking bed, her hands fumbling clumsily for me in the dark, determined to find me. “Poe,” She said, her eyes fluttering open. When I didn't answer, only look at her with wide eyes leaking with tears and a heaving chest, she sat upright at once. Her hands gripped my shoulders and her voice raised, sounding frightened. “Poe! Poe! What's wrong? You're..You're scaring me!”

My mouth fell slack, at a loss for words. I had none to say to her in that moment; my mind was completely wiped blank. More tears fell, I couldn't control them any longer. “I-I..”

I felt heat rise to my face, seeing the confusion in her own. My stomach felt queasy, my head was spinning. Just the worry and compassion in her eyes made me want to cry. I was causing her to feel this way. I didn't want her pity, I didn't want her judgment, I didn't want to be seen as weak! Especially not by her.

It had been nearly a year since Ben had pried open my mind. I wasn’t supposed to still be plagued with this trauma, I was supposed to be a strong war hero. Everyone expected me to be strong, usually they needed me to strong when they could not. So many people relied on me. So many people’s lives have slipped through the cracks because of me, who was I to be selfish and succumb to this weakness?
So I did what any rational person would in the situation, where they're having a panic attack in bed, tied down by demons they couldn't quite shake, next to a deeply intense and passionate soul who only wanted to help. I shoved her away from me and ran out of the room. Rational, right?

•••
A/N: hi guys! so here's my author's tangent. it's been really tough to find motivation the last couple of days. it's difficult not to second guess myself, especially with this emotional angsty piece that leaves me suuper emotionally drained. in order to get in the head space that poe is in, i look into my own trauma and reflect on it, which isn't a fun time.
but other than that, i find myself comparing my work to others and beating myself up about it. i write for me, not for anyone else, but it's not always that easy to remember that. i don't even know if anyone will read this and bat an eye at it, i doubt it but that's okay.
as always, remember to vote and comment and show your support! it means the world to authors like me ♡
xx Natalie