She doesn’t know.
Why haven’t I told her yet?
She still thinks…
No, I did. I can’t think I didn’t. He’ll find out…He can’t find out…
I rack my brain for the right answer, but I can’t find it. My hands clench my head. They’re shaking. My gloves are still on. I was just talking to Hux. Snoke is skeptical of my heart. I don’t want to give him another reason to. If he knew, this would be the kiss of death for me. Most likely literally. I have to continue training my mind so he doesn’t see what really is the truth. He needs to believe what I myself believe, at least what I try to believe most of the time. I don’t want to believe it though. I still can’t believe what happened. How could he do that? How could I—
“What seems to be the hold up?” someone asks from behind me. I’m still in the middle of the meeting room where I’ve been talking to Hux. How could I be so clumsy? Getting emotional in plain sight…I guess I’ve been getting clumsy a lot lately.
It’s Hux again.
“I was just thinking about what we were talking about. Why are you in here again?” I ask, grabbing my helmet from off the table. Chairs outline the table and are neatly placed around the room. Nothing else is in here. It’s all plain, dark walls, chairs, and one large table in the shape of an oval. Nothing else is necessary.
“I have another meeting,” Hux says in his usual tone of duty and pretension. I nod and put my helmet on. As it seals upon my head, I take a deep breath and close my eyes.
“Well get on with it then,” I say, my voice filled with static from the helmet. With that, I stride past him and head to my living quarters. Well, sleeping quarters. I wouldn’t call my present state living by any means.
Blurs of suits and dark and white colors spin around me. I make my way to my room and take my helmet off almost instantly. I throw it on the ground and grab my head once again. I stagger, my back hits the freshly closed-door and slides to the floor. My insides feel like they are being ripped to shreds. My mind is raging like an angry storm.
Rey’s face flashes through my mind.
I clench my eyes shut and try to remove the image of her searching eyes, her longing to understand me.
“No,” I grumble to myself, shaking, “I can’t tell her. I can’t…”
What if she’s the one who can help me? What if she understands? I can feel a war within her. I can feel my soul wrapped with hers. Our stories are intertwined. She will understand. Even if she doesn’t, I should tell her. I have to. I want to.
I don’t want her to see me as a monster. I want her to be the only person who truly understands me. I want her to continue to look at me with those searching eyes. I want to feel her breath on my skin as she tells me what she thinks. She already sees me in a way no one else has before. In a way my father never even saw me.
She believes in me. She began the moment everyone else had given up.
For that, I have to tell her.
I have to tell her the truth.