THE HUNT

Thirteen

    The new clothes are surprisingly comfortable. The thick cloth is breathable, despite the fitted nature of the pants and shirt. I've also been supplied with a hooded cape which is supposedly fire, water, and bulletproof.

    I watch myself in the mirror, lifting my fingers to the device behind my ear. I take a deep breath before tapping it twice, and the metal plates slide over my face. For the first time, I look at myself.

    Ren's creature.

    Nausea churns in me as I see the monster he's created. A faceless sheet of black metal is staring back at me, the smooth surface offering no features, no eyes, no mouth. Part of me wonders how I can see or breathe. The other part of me is horrified as I pull the hood over my head.

    There's someone else standing in front of me.

    "Monster." I say quietly, unsure if I'm talking about myself or Kylo Ren.

    Both, probably.

    I know the outfit is meant to hide who I am, to intimidate, and it works.

    In my fingers, I reread the handwritten note I found on top of the clothes.

    DO NOT LEAVE YOUR ROOM WITHOUT WEARING THESE CLOTHES AND YOUR MASK
    - KYLO REN

    With a scoff, I open my mask, crumpling up the paper before tossing it against the wall. I take off my cloak, throwing it on the bed before I flop onto it myself.

    I let my mind wander, thinking of Imrie, and my dream a few nights ago. I haven't seen Kylo Ren since then, and part of me wonders if he really was in my dream, invading my privacy, or if I just imagined him.

    My heart beats faster as I think of him, terror trembling inside of me.

    He's a monster.

    I close my eyes, picturing Imrie's face.

    He doesn't look like an Emily. Ren had said, laughter in his eyes. Sometimes I see a glimpse of the man he might have been if he hadn't chosen to be the beast he is. He has a sense of humour, albeit twisted, and seems to care for his Knights.

    I've heard stories of him. We all have. Even before I infiltrated the First Order as a spy, I knew of his horrific actions. I expected him to be worse. He's not good, but he's not as bad as the rumours told.

    My mission wasn't to interact with him. I wasn't meant to survive the torture. I wasn't meant to be trained and indoctrinated into his regime.

    But we're here, and maybe I can still be of use to the resistance.

    Which doesn't even know I'm alive. Doesn't seem to care enough to make sure.

    "I hope you're not sleeping." A voice says as the door slides open. I shoot up, reaching for a nonexistent blaster at my hip.

    "You're not supposed to be here." I hiss, looking around. "Get out." I stand, moving to push Armitage from my room.

    "Hunter, I won't let him hurt you."

    "You can't stop it." I shake my head. "Leave me alone!"

    "I'll talk to Ren about it." He promises.

    "I'm sure." I manage to kick him out of my room. "I owe you, but I cannot let myself fall victim to abuse because of your indigence of his rules." I slam my hand against the door's button, closing it in his face.

    Screw you, Ren. I think, hoping he hears me. Immediately, I feel a kernel of amusement fold inside my mind.

    "What for this time?" He asks, hilarity in his words.