Kylo Ren lay in the snow, listening to the planet tearing itself apart around him. He had lost sight of Rey now as she moved away through the trees, and the adrenaline that had kept him on his feet and fighting with three shattered ribs was beginning to drain away. Alone in the fading light of the forest, he was suddenly aware of his wounds and of the cold, hard ground beneath him. But the pain still barely registered in his muddled thoughts.
Some part of him had expected to feel freed, clear-headed, powerful after...after the thing that he had done. But what he felt instead was an aching emptiness that was now turning to gibbering panic and grief. Faces flashed before his eyes—faces of family, old friends, new enemies. But mostly the face of his father, frozen in shock and weariness. The feeling rose wildly in Ren's chest until all he could do was scream. Huge racking sobs pulled his body into a miserable curve, and the pressure of the ground on his ruined side and the memory of his father's eyes filled him with nausea. He retched into the snow, the spasms bringing more pain as broken bones shifted and creaked. He noticed dimly that he was shivering violently. At least the ice cooled the burn on his face. When Ren's vision began to blacken around the edges the only response he could muster was relief. He would die here, anchored to the forest floor by frozen blood, and the world would move on and right itself. There was nothing else for him to do. There was no point in staggering through the ruins of his life any longer.
So when he was roused to consciousness moments later by the sound of a rescue vessel landing nearby, he thought that nothing, nothing had ever made him so angry.