Kylo Ren sat at the end of his bed, running his fingers over the edges of helmet. The sleek black paint was beginning to peel off from all that rubbing, but he didn't care. It was something to do at least. Something that took his mind off of...other things.
That misbegotten little boy, the one whose parents never cared about enough to acknowledge. The one who starred in his nightmares, and chased him around in his dreams. The one that he couldn't go a day without thinking about, because that little boy followed him around in real life, too. Or his ghost did at least, because Ben Solo was dead.
All those faces. Every single person that he had ever killed. There were so, so many, and at times he wanted to apologize because he hated their constant chattering in his head. Hated it with every bone in his body, because he knew what they were saying was right.
That he was a monster and a thief. That he stole everything from them when he ripped away their children and then made them watch as he killed their families, then them. That this was not what his grandfather wanted, because his grandfather turned back to the light at the end of his life.
There were times that he worried about going insane, because sometimes he would see those that he killed in random places. Laughing with a stormtrooper in the hallway. Next to him when he fought that girl who used to be his cousin- Rey. He knew that they were the ones who made him fail, this was their way of getting revenge on him, the only way that they could.
Kylo Ren hadn't talked to someone, hadn't really confided in them for what- 18 years? The number in his head was getting fuzzy because it had been so long.
The truth was, no one cared about him. And he didn't expect them to. They were all of afraid of him, but so was he.
Afraid of himself. And what he might do. After all, he was just a crazy person who had voices in his head. Who didn't mind killing innocents if they got in his way, or just plain annoyed him.
His own mother probably hated him, after everything he had done to her. After all, why shouldn't she? He would too, if he was in her place.
So Kylo Ren sat there. At the end of his bed, running his fingers over the side of his helmet. It was easier than thinking about life.
A/N: Not really what I expected to write, but characters have a way of running away from us.