I struggle with it to this day, everything I went through. She didn't want me to turn out this way, none of them did.

[ The battle is a daily one, something he struggles with unbeknownst to his co-commander, to those he tortures, to those he speaks with, to those he kills. They don't understand, nobody understands how badly the pull between the Light and the Dark hurts. It's exhausting, mentally, physically, emotionally.

His lightsaber crackles in his hand, ragged, a reflection of the man holding it. It's imperfect, unstable, uniquely his.

Kylo takes a step forward, twirling his lightsaber behind him before bringing it over his head with his right hand to meet Anakin's. ]

How is this a gift?!