First Love
by Armitage Hux
Within the past year, I have found it difficult to continue my destiny of becoming supreme leader. I am haunted by an experience or a series of experiences that have led me to question my place in the Order. It is with a fragmented heart that I hope I will someday no longer expect to see his face under the helmet of random passing troopers. It is my expectation that getting these thoughts on paper will alleviate or greatly reduce the emotions and memories that will not vacate my mind.
It all began in the aftermath of a scuffle between several former imperial officers wherein I had suffered several deep cuts along my back. It was shortly after my father had conveniently passed on and I was working my way through the ranks, as was my destiny. I cannot remember what Phasma was doing at the time, but I had not seen her for several days during this incident.
I walked quickly toward my quarters, furtively concealing the extent of my injuries, until I happened upon a stormtrooper standing by himself in the corridor. It was painfully clear that his eyes were on me despite the large white helmet concealing his face. He had even turned his head slightly as I approached to further the deception.
"You there," I commanded him. He straightened right away. "With me."
I selected this lone trooper and made sure no one in the vicinity was aware of it in an attempt to limit any gossip that would arise about the results of the fight. I immediately began to regret my decision as the trooper's clumsiness proved he wasn't up to the task. I paused several times on my way to my room to allow him to catch up.
I placed my hand on the panel and my door slid open. The trooper entered behind me as the doors drew to a close. I struggled out of my coat and hung it where it belonged. I removed another article of clothing and exposed my bare back. The cuts were visible in the mirror behind me and were so extensive I felt my blood run cold at the thought that I could have been killed if they had run any deeper.
All the while, the trooper stood awkwardly at the door. I glared as a final warning before I would unleash my fury upon him. He did nothing, apparently mesmerized by my near-fatal wounds or perhaps, as I would find out later, by something else entirely.
"What are you standing there for?!" I yelled or screamed at the top of my lungs.
The volume of my voice broke him out of his trance and he approached. I reached an arm into a cabinet of medical supplies I had previously hidden away for a situation such as this – where I would need to maintain an illusion of near-invincibility amidst the aftermath of a deadly quarrel – but I immediately lurched back. The immense pain proved to be severely limiting and now I had no longer felt the need to force myself to endure it.
"Get the bandages," I said to the trooper. "They're at the back of the second shelf."
The trooper obeyed and began rummaging through the shelf before his eyes fell upon them. I do not know what took him so long as the cabinet's interior were lighted so thoroughly and at every level that it should have been easy for anyone with a pair of eyes to see inside. I silently breathed a sigh of relief as I saw him reaching deep into the shelf.
His helmet immediately contacted the base of the higher shelf and stupidly, he tried once more to stick his head in and the helmet stopped him again. Rage had been building in me for a while up to that point. He turned toward me as though to ask what his next move should be. I was speechless at how utterly useless this trooper seemed.
"Take this stupid thing off!" Ignoring the pain that had nearly consumed me, I violently grabbed his helmet and began turning it side to side until a hydraulic sucking sound was heard. The helmet released quite easily afterward. Upon throwing the helmet aside, I was struck.
I can't describe how I felt at that moment except to say that the rage within me seemed to instantly vanish. I was staring at a handsome young man with impeccable features... a bit like mine, but – and I hate to say this – slightly more masculine. I was inexplicably drawn to this dark-haired young man who outwardly appeared a bit frightened and shyly kept his gem-like eyes averted. I felt as though I couldn't easily breathe or perhaps I myself was too afraid to let him hear my breathing.
The moment lasted for only a few seconds, but I felt entirely changed within as a result of it. The trooper resumed reaching for the bandages and quickly took a hold of it. I faced my back to him as he sprayed the chemicals upon the gashes. In the mirror, I watched as the wounds sewed themselves up and within a minute, the cuts and exposed flesh had been replaced with slightly reddened patches of skin. I could breathe deeply again. The pain had subsided.
I turned to face him. He kept his eyes mostly averted, but would steal glances at me, especially at my abdominal region. After a few seconds, I thought the encounter was completely over. I would command him to leave and then he'd leave, and then I would likely never see him again. My heart sunk slightly, but I had a position to maintain, a role I needed to continue playing no matter the circumstance. However, as I gestured for him to return the medical supply, he pointed near my chest.
I hadn't noticed the cut to my side. It likely happened as I tried to wrestle the bastard's knife out of his hands after he had made several swings at me with my back turned. For the record, I won the fight. Do not believe anything the bastard officer says regarding the incident. I followed the trooper's finger to the wound and saw that there was a faint, thin red line just under the last rib bone. I was preoccupied with the more intense injuries on my back that I never noticed.
"It's fine," I told the trooper. "It's already healed."
The trooper approached carefully and bent slightly over. He ran a single, slightly cold finger just above the cut. There was a... I don't even know how to describe the sensation. There was still a bit of sharp pain at the location which his light finger aggravated ever so slightly. There was a coldness from his finger, but there was also so much warmth in that moment. I had never been touched by another person quite like that. His brought his cheek and lips so close to my chest I could feel his warmth. My breathing became faster as he rose to face me. His eyes were full of a mix of fear and intense want. I could bear it no longer. I brought myself closer to him as I heard his quick breaths.
"Do you want to?" I asked him quietly with his lips within a mere inch of mine.
He replied, "yes."
I seized him. I began to pulling away more and more of his plastoid white uniform as he worked away at my trousers. The next second we were tightly embracing one another as our lips met over and over. His hand slid back and forth all over my body as I did my best to imitate him. I led him to my bed and he crawled on top of me. At this point, I was already satisfied. I had hoped for nothing more than to embrace the handsome trooper for the entire duration of the night, to keep him, to own him. I needed him as close to me as I could get.
But it didn't stop. That night I had learned so much about what I could feel. All the pleasures I had been denied my whole life, I finally experienced all at once. All the energy building inside of me was released. To my surprise, when it was over, I only wanted him more.
In the weeks that followed, I saw myself taking a more nuanced approach toward the trooper. He called himself Tayden or Tay. His official designation was FN-1012. He hadn't been born into the First Order as many others had, but instead, had been recruited at some point. The other officers got suspicious before I could get much more, but it seemed he had a history of being demoted; his original rank had been higher, but I couldn't get any more details without giving myself away.
To that end, I found myself lying to everyone around me. I couldn't give a single hint of what was going on to Captain Cardinal, not even to Phasma, who at this point, I considered to be a powerful ally and possibly a friend. Maybe. But every so often, I would track down Tay's position in the ship and order him to my quarters for some important task. He didn't appear to have any friends in the corps and noone seemed to care when he was whisked away. Regardless, I couldn't risk any of my behavior looking anything less than official.
Whenever I snuck him off into my room, I'd take complete control. I pretended to be aggressive and rough when we played. I'd use him up and then when we were finished, I'd order him out of the room. I now know that I was not only hiding myself from the others, but I was also hiding my feelings from Tay. He was much more important to me than I let on. At any rate, I ordered complete silence about our activities to which he'd agree.
It was about a month or so after our initial encounter that I found myself face to face with an enemy of the First Order. A spy. He had infiltrated the First Order and planned to gather information which he would send to to the New Republic, though his actual connections to the republic seemed doubtful. He was quite possibly just a freelancer trying to get noticed, but he realized that we were significantly more of a threat to the republic than anyone knew at the time.
We looked all over the ship for him. We had deduced he would attempt to stealthily escape with one of our ships, so we directed the search toward the various garages. Phasma, Cardinal, and I split up with some semblance of a squad with me receiving significantly more troops than the others. I do not believe anyone in the First Order at the time realized how capable of a fighter I was. Everyone assumed I was only capable of leadership because of my father.
I arrived at the scene and immediately ordered the troops to scour every fighter ship for signs of the intruder as I looked on. Within minutes after they dispersed, I saw a shadow in the corner of my eye and instantly knew it was the spy. He was attempting to sneak out of the garage now that he spotted us. The majority of the troops were too far away so I gave chase. I cornered him at the far end of the garage as the troops began to form a circle around us to prevent his escape.
It was then that he made me an offer I couldn't refuse. It would be a duel, hand-to-hand. I readily accepted and ordered the troops not to intervene. I had been aching for a real fight for a long while. The fighters in the galaxy were too preoccupied with cheaty light weaponry and the so-called "force" that they couldn't possibly best me in a fight such as this, one which required true skill.
I tried to use the presence of the troops to my advantage. If he could be distracted by constantly looking behind him, I could quickly sweep and bring him down hard. My first attempt at this was unsuccessful as he was far more rigid than he appeared. With all my strength I couldn't cause him to lose balance. Instead, I was the one who found myself on my back. All he did was shove. I tried to get to my feet, but he rushed in and put weight at the top of my chest. I struggled to breathe as he began pummeling me with his fists. I was instantly brought back to my early days, constantly defending myself against the larger, older boys in training.
There was no opportunity for me to reverse the situation, but the man suddenly produce a large light knife seemingly from nowhere. At this point, I mentally prepared myself against the thrust of the searing beam of light, but instead one of the troopers threw himself at the spy, taking the blunt of the entire blade and casting the man away from me. The trooper instantly collapsed and the spy tried to recover from crashing head first against the floor. I stared at the trooper's body on the floor and I just knew. I couldn't control my own actions after this.
"No!" I screamed at the top of my lungs so loudly that I could hear my own voice bouncing back from the walls at the opposite end of the garage. I rushed past the spy who was already returning to his feet and I knelt beside the trooper. I wrestled with the helmet and quickly pulled it away. My worst fear was confirmed as I saw Tay lying on the cold floor with a bit of blood emerging from his lips. His eyes were shut. I screamed again, much more loudly this time. With Tay's helmet still in hand, I swung around smashed it straight into the spy's head. He tried to stab me but I hit him with the helmet again and it seemed to switch something off in his head. He stumbled back and I did it again, this time, he fell to the floor and a bit of the helmet came off. I completely lost myself as I continued to bring the helmet down upon his head over and over until there was little left of either, all the while I continued screaming. Even after he was still very clearly dead, I continued smashing in the remains of his head with my bare hands. Bits of his skull had cut into my hands, but I couldn't stop myself. I eventually stopped and sat up on my knees. I screamed again, this time lasting for as close to a minute as possible. My hands were numb, my arms were hurting, and my breathing exasperated. I glanced over at Tay and saw that he was still motionless. The other troopers were standing perfectly still during all of this, dumbfounded by what was likely very confusing to professionally trained fighters.
I struggled to speak at first, but soon found my voice again.
"T-Take him to my quarters," I commanded of the troops as I pointed at Tay's lifeless body.
The troopers only looked at one another.
"Take him to my quarters and then get every single medic on the ship to see him," I commanded. "Fix him! Heal him up."
The troopers continued to stare, confused.
"DO AS YOU ARE TOLD!" I screamed each word at the top of my lungs. "FOLLOW YOUR ORDERS! GO!"
The troopers finally obeyed and began to move Tay's body back to the ship.
It took me a bit of time to heal from my own injuries and overexertion from that fight, but none of that was important. I sat beside my bed in my quarters as Tay lay there, desperately hoping to see him stir himself awake. The medics had determined that he was stable and that I needn't worry and I quickly sent them away with another order to keep silent about all of this.
When Tay finally awoke, I produced a sound from my throat I can't put into words. I rushed to my feet to help him sit up, then I regained my composure and stepped back. Tay was momentarily confused to find himself in my bed again after likely assuming he was dead. He looked up at me with his beautiful crystalline eyes.
"Hi," Tay said with a smile.
"Explain what you think you were doing," I said.
Tay looked confused.
"Tell me about your actions when we nearly captured the spy," I said.
"I-I saw that the spy had broken the agreement to fight without weapons," Tay said. "So I thought I'd intervene and help you."
"You saved me," I said firmly.
"Yeah, it's my duty," Tay responded.
"No, it is not," I said. "Your duty is and will always be to further the interests of the First Order. Your allegiance is not to me, but to our greater cause. You acted completely irresponsibly as a stormtrooper and have practically betrayed our cause."
Tay was speechless, which I expected.
"I'm demoting you."
He let out a quiet, disappointed sigh. He was in disbelief.
I continued, "From this day forth, your role will be that of a mere groundskeeper. Your job duties will be to keep every surface in this room and the surrounding area clean and spotless. You will deliver my meals from the kitchen directly and promptly three times a day and then return them to the kitchen when I am done. You will make sure my hat, coats and pants are presentable every morning, ironing them by hand if need be. You will alert me when any officer requests a meeting or if I have an appointment I have forgotten. You will make my bed and fluff my pillows every morning. You will forbid anyone from entering my private room. You will wash the sheets quarterly and wash my clothes regularly, and you will take on any other task I order of you regardless of its mundanity. Do you understand?"
His head was down for the majority of my explanation, but when I finished talking, he looked up at me.
"So I'm going to spend the majority of my time in here?" Tay asked. "In your quarters?"
"Correct," I replied.
There was a hint of a grin emerging from the left side of his lips.
I kept my expression as stern as possible. "I am giving you a designated amount of time to recover from your injuries before your new role takes effect."
Tay only nodded.
I reached toward the panel controlling the light directly above us and dimmed the light significantly. I then crawled into my bed making sure not to put any pressure where the light blade had pierced his chest. There was an extra bit of jolliness from Tay that night and practically every night after that. Despite his injury, he twisted himself around to position himself above me and rested his head on my chest. We couldn't be rough that night, but we did what we could, shall I say.
It was not more than a day after that night that Phasma began asking for me all over the ship. I dreaded the encounter for fear of ridicule. In hindsight, I had no reason to treat the situation with the spy from the republic the way I did, and the thought that so many troopers had witnessed my defeat at the hands of that amateur agent made it difficult for me to even leave my quarters for many months to come. I will have to devise a plan with which to silence them, though the identities of all but one of them are a complete mystery to me.
Phasma quickly found me in the hall at midday (trying to elude her).
"General, I hear you demoted one my troopers," she started. "May I ask why?"
Obviously, I continued on my way without an answer.
"What did he do?" Phasma continued. "What offense?"
At this point, I concluded my continued silence would be far more suspicious than any nonsensical excuse I could conjure in the moment. I stood and looked intensely at her as I waited for some fleeting thought to adhere, with which I could produce a reasonable story.
She continued. "Don't get me wrong, I understand that though we are both currently generals, one day your rank will far surpass mine. However, I do not wish to obey you in the future simply out of fear. I do not fear you, general. I never have and I never will. What I am seeking is mutual respect. To that end, I request that you are open to me when you make decisions like this. I want to know that I can trust your leadership in the future."
I may have possibly exaggerated the elegance and articulateness of her speech here slightly for no reason other than that her words at the time of this event were simple and uncouth, having been a mere savage for all those years prior to joining the First order. It pained me initially to have to speak to her in person. She has since improved her vernacular greatly.
"He has treated me with disrespect, if you must know, general," I began. I hadn't yet conceived of any background notes with which to substantiate the accusation.
"Is this in any way a result of the thrashing you suffered at the hands of the sp-?"
"Quiet!" I cut her off immediately. "Please do not bring that up in front of me ever again."
"Are you simply lashing out, General Hux?" She continued. She was a very tough, and intelligent young woman who was extremely persistent and I normally quite admired her for it. "Is this some attempt to threaten the other troops into silence?"
"I refuse to continue this line of questioning," I said.
"That's unacceptable," Phasma said.
"If you must know, the trooper in question is in good hands," I told her. "I have not tortured him or mistreated him or ridiculed him in any way. If you absolutely require him in your squadron, then by all means – promote him back to a stormtrooper. I can find countless other cadets that can do his work in half the time."
I started for my quarters again, but her next words were spoken with a softer tone and not accusatory in the least. So I allowed her to continue.
"General, you may not want to hear this," she started. "But everyone loses a fight at some point. We learn from our mistakes. It is only in defeat that we can grow and improve. I won't pursue the issue any further, but I hope your actions are well-intentioned in the future. Don't dwell over a solitary loss. The sting of change is nothing compared to the pain of obsolescence."
I added that last bit as it felt fitting. She had said something significantly less poetic.
In the months that followed, I grew closer to Tay. I confided in him. He didn't have much to share of his day-to-day experiences tidying up my rooms or pressing and folding clothes, but he'd occasionally reference the fact that we'd known each other for years, which I found rather strange. At any rate, I never hesitated to update him on the state of the First Order and how much closer we were getting to finally unifying all of the systems and bringing order to the galaxy. I'd also share more private details with him.
The two of us would lie in my bed as I fumed quietly.
"I hate him," I'd say to Tay whist gritting my teeth. "I hate him so much. Someday, when he's not looking and Snoke is preoccupied with some force thing or meditating, I'll end him. With a single shot to the back of the head when he's unconscious. He has no claim to the throne. He is nothing but a petulant, weak-willed child."
To which, Tay would simply nod and stroke my cheek with his hand. To my surprise, having him around did not distract me as much as I had thought it would. I felt less exhausted when I worked. I felt that I had twice the energy that I had previously. There was something very special about returning to my quarters every night – no matter what stressful event had occurred during the day, I would be well cared for afterward. I had never realized how lonely I had been prior to Tay's arrival.
It was a comfortable arrangement that had come to be, but the next event would forever be burned in my psyche. Ren and I always had our disagreements. They were as bound to occur as stars were bound to burn. They typically occurred whenever Ren would overstep his bounds, either questioning my methods and leadership to insultingly giving me orders.
At one such occurrence, I was at my wits end. He had the gall to correct me in front of Phasma and her FN Corps. Phasma held similar reservations of Kylo Ren as I did, and she too appeared disturbed as he was very clearly wrong. His training as a "Jedi" had lead him to believe too much in intuition and not enough on actual skill. In this regard, I've been told, he was also a failure, having abandoned his training early at some point, but I digress.
We were at an impasse and I knew that only by besting him in a physical fight could I make my point. With all his "Jedi" training, he had developed an ego quite possibly more enormous than the volume of seven systems. He needed to learn to submit to my authority. He needed to be put in his place. I requested a private word with him one day and proceeded to lead him to the Sky room. It was a sizable room with a glass ceiling overlooking the stars. Ren and several of the other force-oriented fighters would go there to meditate or clear their heads or something. In my mind, there could be no better place for me to rectify the situation – defeating him in his own territory.
I have never been one to simply begin attacking someone mercilessly. I was well versed in proper behavior; I possessed fulsome honor, integrity, and manners – all the things the republic sorely lacked. As such, I gave him an introduction and a reason for the impending brawl. I told him that his insolence could no longer be tolerated and that the loser in the duel would submit to being the lesser of us and could no longer make demands of the other. He readily agreed.
My first thought was to somehow thrust my monomolecular dagger directly into his stupid, ridiculous-looking helmet. A serious injury that he would have to wear outwardly for all the Order to see. Even Snoke himself would finally see that all of his hopes rested on some commoner doomed to fail every mission he is ever assigned.
I watched carefully as the the beam of red light extended from the metal hilt of his saber. This was far from the first encounter I had with such a weapon. Though most would say that the only possible counter to a light saber was a light weapon of your own, I have always opted for the elegance of more traditional weaponry. I grasped my lucky dagger and held it low at the ready. There was a brief moment, less than a minute where the two of us stood, patiently waiting for the other to make the first move.
Ren has always been recklessly impatient despite his so-called training. He made the first attack, swinging the beam of light directly at my head. Ha! I dodged the blade with ample room to spare. I immediately slashed at his dominant arm just as the his blade swept overhead. I could hear his agonizing wail muffled somewhat by the stupid helmet.
He made several more attempts to catch my limbs with his annoyingly noisy weapon. I dodged every swing. Even with my back turned I could hear the damned thing buzzing like a primitive light fixture. How such a blatantly obvious flaw could have possibly popularized such a weapon, I will never understand. Granted, I have seen light sabers used more expertly and significantly less noticeably than Ren.
Ren was an oaf. I could clearly see him stalling directly after each strike. I waited for him to swing again and after escaping the slash, I kicked at his hand and immediately disarmed him. His saber dropped to the ground and the safety system kicked in, switching it off. He retreated several steps. Again, he was too clumsy to understand he mustn't create distance between himself and his weapon. I took my time approaching him with my dagger. I wanted to savor the moment and I wanted him to dread his defeat for as long as possible.
I made the move. He stumbled back and I found myself laughing at the sight of the deep scar on his helmet. That was enough. I would show him mercy and pronounce myself the victor. It wasn't until I noticed his right hand was clawed that I began to feel the burning. I hung my head and saw the red beam piercing straight through my chest from behind. The dagger fell from my hand as I dropped to my knees.
I screamed, not from pain but from the blatant unfairness of it all! I was a mere mortal. I played the game fairly, performed all the right moves, possessed both the superior strategy and maneuverability and lost simply because their overwhelming advantage enabled them to cheat. What a farce! He performed some garish march around me to my rear to proclaim his victory as though such a move was something to be proud of. He then, with the blade now in hand, began moving the light slightly left and right to torture me. I had my hands and teeth clench as I screamed. Tears began streaming down my face as I waited for him to show just a hint of mercy. He showed me none. He grasped the blade and slowly dragged it out of my back before switching it off. I couldn't tell if it would be less painful to collapse forward or back. Blood was quickly pooling around me as I felt my life force quickly drain away. With my hands in fists, I waited to hear the sound of his boots leaving the room before giving in. I let out a pathetic whelp and whimper. Intense throbbing in my chest and back caused me to begin shivering.
Just then, the sound of footsteps rushed toward me. I looked up to see Tay with a pained expression on his face. He had evidently been spying on Ren and I after slipping away from a briefing in the other room. But there he was, my savior. I instantly felt better. He spent several seconds eyeing my injuries before resting his warm, soft hand upon my cheek. I confess I felt a bit of guilt at that moment. I would be abandoning him shortly and though it wasn't by choice, I hated the thought of him being alone in the days to come.
"Wh-What should I do?" He asked worryingly
"Help," I squeaked. "Help me, please."
I held his warm hand in mine.
"I'll carry you to the sick bay," he said as he grasped my left arm and started to lifted it.
"No," I said. "No, listen quickly. There's a blaster in my holster I'm too weak to reach for. T-Take it. Position it on the side of my head as central as you can. And fire."
"Armi..."
I couldn't bear to see the pain I was causing him. He wiped a tear away as he reached for my belt with shaking hands. My breaths were short as I felt my eyes growing still. He produced the blaster and I heard it turning on with a high-pitched whirl. I was ready to close my eyes and await Tay's kindness but I stared in horror as I saw him turn the blaster on himself, aimed at his abdomen.
"No! What are you doing?!" I grabbed the blaster with both hands. "Stop it!"
We struggled for a bit before he overpowered me, wringing the weapon from my hands and firing a single shot into his abdomen. My jaw hung open in disbelief as he dropped to his knees before me. I must have wept another tear as I watched blood dripping from the hole in his uniform.
I stared him straight in the eye as I screamed. "WHY?!"
"Armi, I love you," he said softly and weakly. "I want you to know that you needn't worry about me when you're gone. I want nothing else but to be with you, no matter where you go. You won't be abandoning me. We'll always... be... together..."
He still held the blaster in hand and tried to hold it to my head, but I, overwhelmed with his devotion, embraced him as tightly as I could, touching our heads together and wept. I wanted to hold him that way forever. I felt his warm, soft neck on touching mine as we remained in that position. In my peripheral vision, I watched his hand trembling as he brought the blaster to my head.
"Cl-Close your eyes," he whispered quietly.
I did so. And I waited. But something went wrong because the next moment I heard the blaster contact the floor. Upon opening my eyes, I watched him collapse on his side. He had left before me. I let out a weak sigh. I whimpered at the injustice of such a perfect human being having met his end so soon. I likely turned side to side as I waited for my own demise. It was coming. Slowly. My vision gradually grew darker until I was drenched in nothingness.
I awoke in my quarters with a hoarse cough. I opened my eyes to spot Phasma standing at the side of my bed. I struggled to sit up but it proved impossible. My chest was contained in bandages half an inch thick. Despite this, I felt unable to lift even my head. My chest began to throb painfully, but I ignored it to the best of my ability.
"There we are," Phasma said. "I knew you were a survivor."
"What?" I asked. "What's happening?"
My mind was bathed in utter confusion.
"We found you in the sky room," Phasma explained. "The others wanted to begin funeral proceedings – shipping you out into space in a pod, basically. But I had my doubts. You're a survivor. You have incredible strength inside you, possibly near equal to mine. I'm glad you didn't perish and leave me and the others with that brainless kid."
I squinted and began glancing about the room.
"Where's Tay-?" I corrected myself within a split-second. "Where's FN-1012?"
If I made it, then surely he–
"He's dead." Phasma said.
I tried to breathe normally but the news made it difficult. I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces. I had lost my loyal companion to the dark. I felt cold, not physically, but mentally. I still found myself looking all over my room for him. I required him. I closed my eyes tightly as I turned away from Phasma. I began whimpering uncontrollably in a way I had not since I was a little boy. I felt weak. I do not believe Phasma had ever seen this side of me before.
"May I ask why you killed him?" Phasma's voice sounded muffled through her helmet. "Was he the one that assaulted you?
I desperately tried to remain strong. The memory of us struggling for control of the blaster played in my head. I remembered how sad he appeared. I remembered the two of us holding each other in what I thought would be our last moment. And then he laid there in front of me on the cold pavement and I felt a part of me perish alongside him. How badly I wish I had done so.
"Get out." I could feel the tears begin welling up. "GET OUT!"
Phasma took the hint and quickly removed herself from my room and disappeared behind the sliding doors in the common area. The moment the doors were shut, I tried to scream, but there was nothing left in me. No energy. No will. I felt myself grasping about mentally trying to find something, anything to hold on to that could give my continued existence any meaning. My heart sank again as I felt lonelier than I had ever felt in my entire life.
I did not cry that night. But if I did, it was only from the realization that my destiny required a certain numbness to all things. I would never let myself feel so weak ever again. I would never allow myself to depend on another individual, or to confide in another person. The path to becoming the supreme leader would be a lonely one. If I let my guard down, I would surely lose the grit I require to continue on this journey. I refuse to be weak. As I stated at the beginning of this piece, parts of me continue to long for him. I continue to see him in places only to realize it was simply my desire to see him that produced the mirage. I look forward to the days when I have put all of this behind me so I may take my throne without distraction. I shall store these pages in a place inaccessible to anyone in the First Order lest my shame be common knowledge and the stuff of gossip. The best hiding place is likely on my person, so I shall store these papers underneath the many layers of my uniform, directly over my heart.