THE HUNT

Seven

TRIGGER WARNING:
suicide attempt

I watch myself in the small, dirty mirror, studying the bruise forming around my neck. After a moment, I slam my fist into the glass.

It doesn't shatter, so I do it again.

And again.

And again.

I hit the mirror until it shatters, shards of it embedding themselves into my knuckles.

My heart pounds as I reach down, finding a long, pointed shard.

I drag it along the back of my arm first, making sure it's sharp enough.

I don't need him coming in while I'm still alive. He'll try to save me, but only for his own benefit.

It's been hours since he threw me back into my prison cell of a room, so he should be asleep. Or at least somewhere far enough away that he can't get to me in time, or realize what I'm doing until it's too late.

My mother did it. I found her, so I know how to do it. I know what will happen.

It will hurt, though.

"What are you about to do?" His voice echoes in my head, and I nearly drop the shard in surprise.

Win.

I bite the bottom of my lip, pressing it as deep in my forearm as I can.

"How are you going to manage that?"

You're creative. I'm sure you'll figure it out.

I drag it upwards towards me.

"You're in pain." He seems surprised. "What are you-" He stops, and I feel my body stiffen. The shard falls from my hands. "No."

Yes. You're too late.

It hurts, I knew it would, but my body is cold. Too cold.

To my dismay, the door slides open immediately, and he rushes inside.

"You idiot." He hisses, using his voice now as he drops to his knees beside me.

I didn't realize that I fell.

He tears a long strip of fabric from his own cloak, wrapping it tightly around my arm.

No.

No, he's too early.

"Go away." I mumble.

"This is not winning." He growls. "This is suicide."

"If you won't kill me, I'll do it myself."

"No. As long as I'm here, you're alive." He lifts me, tucking me against his chest. "You're going to fight this. You want to live." He orders. I feel my body obey his command. I don't squirm anymore, but my mind is still set on escaping through death, if not through my release or ability to flee.

I hate you. I imagine myself screaming. He shakes his head.

"And I you, but I will not allow you to take your life." He carries me into the hall, and into another room diagonal from mine. He lays me on the bed, grip still on my arm. "This is not victory." He snaps his fingers, and a droid comes to life in the corner. "Fix her."

The droid whirrs as it approaches, and fear floods me.

No, no please. I try to push away from it, but as Ren removes his hand, and the droid cuts through the fabric he wrapped around me, my body is held still. Let me go. Let me die!

"No." His answer is simple, and out loud, sending chills down my spine. He looks to the droid. "Sedate her."
—
My body is cold, too cold as I open my eyes. Nothing hurts but my neck.

And I'm alive.

I'm in my 'room' again, but there are changes.

I'm cold because there are no blankets. My neck hurts because there's no pillow. I sit up, noticing that the table is gone, and so is the chair. The mirror is missing, and the shards are cleaned up.

Ren stands in the corner, arms crossed as he watches me silently.

"I gave you luxuries, and you abused them." He steps closer to me, and my hand flies to my throat protectively. He reaches forward, and I move as far back on the bed as I can, my back touching the wall. He grabs my wrist, pulling it down with a surprising amount of gentleness.

"You've imprisoned me, and you expect gratitude?" My heart pounds at his proximity, at the brush of his breath across my face.

"If I were..." He hesitates. "Kinder to you," He says, almost as if the word was hard to force out. "Would you reconsider your hate towards the First Order?"

I scoff.

"Why? You'll never let me leave, have a thought to myself, or be able to move on my own."

"I want you to join me." He touches the side of my face, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You're talented, and I want to use your skills."

"Then control me." I dare.

"I can't." He says. "Not every moment of every day."

"Then give it up." I snap. He leans closer.

"Never." He breathes. "Three years is a long time to commit yourself to a cause that doesn't value you."

"I provided crucial information to the Resistance."

"And the second you stopped, they abandoned you." He grits his teeth. "They haven't contacted us at all to negotiate for your release. They haven't sent anyone to rescue you."

Tears burn in my eyes.

I knew this, and I was prepared for this when I chose to do this mission.

"They can't risk it."

"I would." He promises. "I would go myself and tear my way to you."

"Liar." I say, but my heart longs for something like that.

All those months while I was being tortured, I wished more than anything for someone who would come and find me. For someone to care enough to risk their life to come and save me.

"You know I'm telling the truth." A tear rolls down my cheek, and he brushes it away with his thumb. "I'd come after you, creature." I say nothing, and he draws back. "Think on it." He says, standing. "You're disposable to the Resistance," He lifts his chin. "But not to me. Not to the First Order." Then he turns on his heel, and exits the room.