Year 28 ABY
For as long as she can remember, she's felt the call to the ocean. An endless array of green, gray, bright and clouded blue. In her dreams she sees these colors, these foam coated waves so very different from the ever present sand. Unkar had told her there was no such thing as an ocean. Perhaps not on Jakku, but surely the galaxy has a water planet somewhere! If all the stars can offer is deserts then her family might be looking for her in the wrong place. That might be why they're talking such a considerable amount of time coming back. No, she says to herself. She shouldn't waste time on such petty ideas. Ideas don't put portions on the table. If they did, her rebel dolly would earn 60 portions per hour. At any rate mister dolly has better ideas than Unkar. When her family comes back, she's definitely not going to visit that overgrown larva.
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Year 29 ABY
Of all her dreams the waters are the most peaceful. The island each current beats against became her sanctuary. The untouchable asylum within the contours of her mind. When the night's frosty air chilled her to the bone, she'd summon the warmth of the island. When her bones broke (she had stopped trading for bacta after turning nine, one patch had cost her twelve portions, it wasn't worth the hunger pangs.) she'd picture the healing rush of the tides. The fourteen year old girl only has two types of dreams, or as she likes to call them: heaven and hell. Heaven is the mountains, beautifully scattered across her island, eternally guarded by the silent guardian angel whose back is always turned. A deep sorrow plagues him, he prays in Amatakka, she's not sure how she knows that but Rey is 100% certain that's what he's speaking. She tries to touch him, feel his cream colored cloak yet he slips away every time. He is like is the horizon, wonderful to gaze upon, exhilarating with the light that shines around him yet impossible to grasp. When she was seven, one of the scavengers had tried to take her to something called a brothel, saying she'd be much more comfortable in a soft feather bed than whatever shelter found here. Rey said no, her family left her on this side of Jakku, they wouldn't check the other side. Besides she likes fixing stuff and this "brothel" doesn't seem the sort of place for those activities. His traveling companion told her no sentient without a mental illness would marry a woman who chose looking for junk over a good night's sleep. Rey quips back that she doesn't want any husband they recommend. When she's all grown up she'll marry the guardian angel.
Hell is nowhere as pleasant. Above all, its a feeling: venom dexterously flooding her senses, colder than the snows of Hoth, deadlier than the flames of Mustafar. The poison stems from a shadow, deceptively frail and meek. His robe black as tar, his withered skin accentuating malefic yellow eyes that scrutinize each breath. He feigns endearment to her in public, assumes the role of a loving, grandfatherly figure. In private he touches her breasts with his spiderlike nails. His façade vanishes all too soon as he pulls her down into his quarters. Once the door closes, all modesty vanishes as his talons further blemish a body of mist like ivory, now coated with scarlet gushing through her thighs. With full intent, he thrusts inside her womb in an effort to conceive.
She's twelve and pregnant and her Master is ecstatic until she refuses his order to give her child to the inquisitors (whoever they are, they don't sound very nice) when it is born. He says nothing, she's failed him by yielding to a wanton desire (the real Rey wants to squeeze the life out of this prick for brainwashing anybody this way. Somebody should throw him off a ledge). The day after, he asks " do you love me, my hand?" Her affirmation is so fast she pities her imaginary self. Decrepit palms hand her a chalice. Her devotion helps her silence the shrieks echoing through the air. She drinks and screams from the pain. The small swell of her stomach is gone and she can't have another babe. He praises her loyalty, commends her sacrifice in tones meant to be soothing that sends shivers down her spine. Even worse, in her dreams she loves him for it. She wakes up that day to find blood trickling from her body. Her face turns white and she tries to scream but her lips are too frightened to move. He was real, he did this to me. In a frenzy she scrambles to erase the evidence of his defilement. The old woman at the Nimaa outpost sees her burning undergarments and asks when her moon blood started. She raises both eyebrows in confusion. The moon can bleed? Noticing her bewilderment, the elderly scavenger takes her aside to explain basic female anatomy for humans. The teenage girl has never been so grateful to be proven wrong .
Author's Notes:
Just in case it wasn't clear enough, I'm going with the premise that Rey is the reincarnation of Mara Jade Skywalker.
This character first appeared in Timothy Zahn's Thrawn Trilogy. Raised by emperor Palpatine, she held the position of "The Emperor's Hand", making her a Sith Acolyte, Assassin, Spy and Courtesan all in one.
You will pry Mara Jade's marriage to Luke from my cold, dead body. Got it Darth Mickey!?
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