His dream started the same: darkness before the sound of muffled cheering pounded incessantly in his ears. His breathing came slow, but his heart moved in his chest like a rabid animal. His eyes finally opened—his vison blurry at first until they focused. He saw the wide eyes of a young Padawan boy staring back at him, the glow of their lightsabers in his peripheral vison. The electric hum of his own weapon melted into the sounds of the background.

Usually, when sparring, Master Luke wouldn't let them use real lightsabers, but Master Luke was away and Ben let his passionate anger get the best of him. Being triggered by the support of the other Padawans, his opponent smirked and swung his lightsaber, aiming for Ben's left shoulder. Ben easily blocked it with his own, the lightsabers screeching and sparking when they met. The Padawan raised his lightsaber high and brought it down on Ben, but once again, he blocked it. Although the Padawan was older, Ben knew when and how he was going to strike. To Ben's surprise, the Padawan pulled away and started to walk around Ben in a circle, his saber loosely by his side. The Padawan watched him and Ben watched him too, clutching the lightsaber tightly, ready to strike at any moment.

"I don't understand why you're here, Solo." The Padawan spit. He looked around at the circle of Padawans for support. "You can't even hold your own ground let alone become a Jedi. You should pack up and go. No one wants you here . . . not even your parents wanted you."

Ben froze after he heard the latter part of the sentence, those bitterly hurtful words replaying in his mind. Over the years, the Padawans had found many ways to make fun of him—his gangly limbs, his protruding ears, his awkward personality. Hell, this whole fight had begun because this Padawan boy started to make fun his features. But this was a new low. Master Snoke had warned him of Jedi like this and thankfully, he had told Ben how to get rid of Jedi like that.

Looking up from the stone ground, Ben grimaced and narrowed his eyes at the Padawan boy. He raised his hand and aimed it at the boy's neck, allowing genuine anger and hatred to run through his veins like fuel. He imagined the boy's windpipes closing, his lungs failing to get oxygen, and eventually him passing out or dying. The boy's eyes widened and he dropped his lightsaber, desperately clutching at his throat to get air. Ben liked watching him squirm underneath his power—Master Snoke had also told him that the Dark Side was the only side of the Force that could give him that sort of power. The other Padawans gasped and began to walk towards them both, but they stopped when Ben flashed them a dangerous glance.

Becoming tired himself, he used the last of his energy to throw the boy against the wall. His head hit the stone with a crack before he fell to the floor, his skin pale and his limbs weak. Good, Ben thought. That's how he should be. No one deserves to be talked to like that. Ben threw the lightsaber to the ground and it automatically shut off. He looked at the shocked faces from the numerous Padawans and he knew he had left an impression on them. Ben watched as three Padawans walked over to the boy, picking him up and carrying him to the medical room while others discussed in hushed whispers, already conjuring up new ways to mock him. Ben knew Master Luke would hear about this once he got back, but for once, he didn't care. He didn't care what anyone thought about him anymore. He was under new tutelage and nothing could stop him.

Ben turned on his heel and walked out of the room, but he stopped in the doorway when he saw Rey peeking out from behind the wall. Her small, hazel eyes were wide with judgement, but also curiosity. She looked Ben up and down, tilting her head to the side with her lips pursed. For being six years old, she was already so adept in observing and evaluating situations like these. Ben let out a sigh and bent down to her, his hands on his knees. She had seen everything.

"Rey," he said slowly, "I know what happened back there looked back, but—"

"They were making fun of you again." Rey said pointedly. She pulled away from the wall and stood directly in front of him, playing with her fingers on her small hands.

"Yes, they were making fun of me. Again."

"What was it about this time? Ears or legs?" Rey tilted her head, an innocent smile starting to spread on her lips.

Ben felt himself smile slightly. "Something new, unfortunately. My face and my family."

"Who needs them? They're . . . scum." Rey said and crossed her arms over her chest.

"You shouldn't say things like that, Rey." Ben scolded her after he chuckled. Even though she was the youngest Padawan there and she was just starting her training, Rey managed to pick things up quickly, especially expletives from the older Padawans. Ben tried to protect her from their explicit nature, but occasionally, she would hear some words or phrases and would, unfortunately, add them to her growing vocabulary. Ben didn't want her to grow up too fast—he knew it didn't get any easier.

"Ben," Rey said and pulled at his sleeve, yanking him from his thoughts. "Could we go play outside for a bit? I'm bored."

"You're always bored when you're not training or playing."

Rey giggled and shrugged before she grabbed his hand. "Come on, Ben! I wanna see the sunset." Her hand was incredibly small in his, but her grip was powerful. If she continued to train with Master Luke, he would have a worthy opponent one day.

Rey dragged Ben outside and down the stairs to the grass where they played pilots while the sun went down—Rey pretending to be the pilot as she sat on Ben's shoulders. Ben held onto her knees as he ran around, making all kinds of different noises. Their laughter turned watery until it was a faint echo and the vision in his dream went black again, void of any light, sound, or emotion.

Kylo Ren sat up in his bed, his dark hair stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck with sweat. He stared ahead of him and out of the window, trying to count the stars in the pitch black sky as he caught his breath. Ever since he fought Rey, all of these snippets of memories came back to him in dreams, which were much more haunting because they seemed real. When he started to train with Snoke, he had taken those memories and put them as far back into his mind as he possibly could. He was successful for a while until he saw her again—it was as if she were the key to unlocking a part of his life he had almost forgotten. He wasn't sure yet if it was a gift or a curse.

Kylo threw the sheets off of his body and walked over to the window, crossing his arms over his chest. Once he turned to the Dark Side, he never looked back, even if he occasionally felt the Light calling to him. He knew it was the right decision for him, no matter what his family said.

He saw his reflection in the window and grimaced at his new scar, his bare fingers running over the pink, supple skin that stood out against the ivory pallor of his face. Maybe if I had this scar when I was younger, the other Padawans wouldn't have picked on me. Maybe I wouldn't have become this way . . .

Maybe . . .

Kylo's hand fell from his face and to his side. Unlike his dreams, the scar on his face represented a tangible, physical memory that he had created with Rey. At first, he was angry that he had been weak enough to let her do this to him. But then he realized he could use it as motivation. Even without Luke's training, Rey had become a worthy opponent—she was brimming with potential and power.

And Kylo would make sure that they would be together to complete their training.