I've had this idea for a while (few days after I saw the second movie)in an AU where Kylo is driven with loneliness for another force sensitive person (key word person) to talk to. We meet Kylo in the next chapter so be patient. PLEASE FOLLOW AND FAVORITE.

When I wake up, I notice everything is drastically wrong with my immediate surroundings. I'm not in my bed or more accurately my cot. The sheets I'm cocooned in feel luxurious, like real cotton, not like my regular synthetic ones. Sitting up, I study my surroundings with controlled breaths.

The entire room isn't familiar at all; It's larger, spacious. It reminds me almost of a spare room inside someone's mansion, or a hotel room at the very least. A white and plush carpet square covers half of the floorboards. There are two metallic bedside drawers on each side of the bed, and that's it. No other important pieces of furniture but the bed. A plastic tray on one bedside table to the left of me near a dome lamp with what looks like a glass of an orange drink and a pitched of chilled water.

I look at the wall expecting to see a window to outside but Instead I see a large window revealing that we are not on a planet. I can see the stars in the distance and no planets near. I'm instinctively filled with anxiety.

This must be a rich man's ship.

So where the hell am I? What am I doing here?

My eyes dart around the room again as the panic settles in even deeper. I definitely don't remember coming here. In fact, I don't remember much of all last night, except for heading out with a vague acquaintance to scavenge off a recently crashed Order ship.

So why am I here, of all places? More importantly, Who put me here? Why?

Panicking isn't going to help though, I tell myself, trying to remain calm. There has to be a reasonable explanation as to why I'm here.

As I try to think back rationally on the events of last night, it sinks in just how uncomfortable I feel. I feel... different somehow. My nose feels particularly clogged up and my head is aching dully. It could just be the effects of being in orbit, but that doesn't seem to make sense.

As I scan through my memory of what had happened last night, I come up blank, as far as what happened after we went to the ship.

I remember certain things: Drinking a few sips of water out of a canteen while getting ready. Heading out to one part of the wreckage, then changing our minds because it was too dangerous and going out to the next place. I can't remember how we left the wreckage, or why I ended up here in this unknown place, in this comfortable bed.

God, what had I done last night to get me here in this room?

Throwing the sheets off me, I glance down at what I am wearing, checking. It's still the same tattered clothes I always wear, so someone hadn't bothered to undress me at the very least. At least I hadn't been picked up by some slave runners and raped here in this bed. Or had I?

Sliding out of the bed, my bare feet hit cold floorboards and I shiver, moving towards the door quickly. If there is one thing I want to do, its find my staff and sandals, and find where I am as quickly as I possibly can, maybe even try to steal something. Looking at the control panel, I try to open the door.

I feel my blood turn cold as night as I try to press the button again, this time using both hands. With all the strength I have in both hands, I yank and pull between the door trying to get the door to come open with brute strength. It doesn't budge an inch. It won't open, I realize in terror. I'm trapped. Now why the hell would someone shut me into a room like this? What is going on here?

I breathe in and out slowly to keep myself calm as I assess the situation. I feel all the little hairs on the nape of my neck rise when I realize what must be happening outside that door, in another room of the ship. There is a monitor on the ceiling, no doubt recording me while I move around the room. It can only mean one thing:

Someone is watching me. But who and why?

"Who are you?" I bring myself to ask in a confident and loud voice at the camera, my eyes growing wet and stinging. My voice seems to echo around the room creepily. "What do you want from me? Why am I here like this and why did you bring me here?" I pause, breathing loudly.

I don't know why I am expecting for the monitor to answer back, but what I do know, is that some sick pervert is watching my every movement. When no answer or noise comes in response, anger burns within me. "Listen, why is the door locked?"

I won't freak out, I tell myself, over and over, when still no response comes. I grit my teeth, staring up into the face of the monitor helplessly, wrapping my arms around myself, squeezing tight.

I won't be defeated in this situation. Whoever is doing this obviously has money to spare.

I let my heart race.

Could it be... My parents?