"I'm being torn apart. I want to be free of this pain. I know what I have to do but I don't know if I have the strength to do it. Will you help me?"
Kylo sat up in bed with a gasp, grinding his teeth together to keep the groan of pain in as the sudden movement aggravates the wound in his side. His vision is still slightly blurry, his eyes attempting to adjust to his sudden change in consciousness. Despite the cold night air his exposed skin is sticky with sweat, the pants he sleeps in are damp and sticking to his legs. The hazy image of the old man's sad brown eyes is still floating around his mind, an image that will no doubt continue to haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life just like it has every night since the bridge.
Seeing the man who fathered him again after all this time, had brought his internal struggle to the fore. It was tearing him apart, he needed relief. As he turned to face Han he had been so sure that this would finally stamp out the light's ever-present call, he could finally be at peace.
Yet as his father began to speak, something inside him had wanted to listen. A part of him, no matter how small, had wanted to believe that he could stop this madness. He held out his saber out, Han had tried to take it, and suddenly everything was happening in slow motion. That small part of him was urging him to let go, let his father take him home; but the darkness wouldn't let go so easily.
"Kill him."
He wasn't sure whose voice was in his head; the Supreme Leader, the voice he sometimes imagined when he spoke to his grandfather's melted helmet, or if it was his own. In the sea of confusion swirling in his mind, he had latched onto the order. He pushed the light's call away and focused his energy on gaining control of his lightsaber.
He had expected instant relief, at least a small measure, but as he watched Solo's body slump forward the storm inside his mind only intensified. The old man's calloused hand came up to gently caress the side of his face once more, their eyes locked as he did. Kylo had expected the brown orbs to hold anger, hatred, disappointment… but all he saw was pain, acceptance, and love. His father's hand slipped away as his body was sent tumbling down into the core of the base. He could still feel the warmth of the old man's touch as he watched his body disappear from view.
He had expected to feel triumphant but instead he was overwhelmed by disgust; sickened by what he had just done.
The light's pull hadn't died with his father as he's hoped it would. Instead of snuffing it out, it seemed he had fed the flames. In that moment Snoke's instruction and the voice in his mind telling him that he had to finish what his grandfather had started were completely drowned out by a voice he hadn't heard in a long time.
Ben; the little boy he was so sure he had killed years ago. He was screaming in horror, begging for the ability to take back what his body had just done.
Kylo couldn't seem to move, his eyes transfixed on the spot where his father had fallen. Only the Wookie's desperate cry had pulled him from the state of overwhelming shock. He became aware of his surroundings again, his foggy mind wondering for the briefest moment when he had fallen to his knees. He should feel powerful now, more so than ever before, but instead he feels unbearably weak.
Kylo shakes his head, focusing his energy on pushing the memories away. He climbs out of bed, careful not to further anger his side or shoulder. He walks into the bathroom, flicking the tap on before splashing himself in the face with cold water. He grabs a towel and moves to dry his face, but as he does he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror. His gaze lands first on the scar that now mars his features, a permanent reminder of his weakness, before moving on to his reflection's sad brown eyes. The same eye's that have been haunting dreams this last week; his father's eyes.
The anger bubbles up inside him, his hands twitch with unexpressed rage. He lashes out, the sound of shattering glass echoing through his quarters. His arms fall at his sides, he can feel blood slowly running down his fingers from the knuckles on his right hand. He stands there for quite a while, the only sound his ragged breathing as he tries to reign in his emotions.
As he finally moves to wrap his hand he finds himself transfixed again on his eyes, reflected back to him in a shard of the mirror that has managed to cling to the frame. After a moment he scoffs, maybe it's only right that he should have to live the rest of his life with those eyes staring back at him.
A/N: Hope you guys liked this little drabble, I couldn't get it out of my head after looking at the script for this scene. Let me know what you thought if you have a second!