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Ezra’s eyes snapped open, brimming with tears as he stared up at the ceiling. His mother’s screams still echoed in his head, burned into his mind by the dream. There was a harsh buzzing in his chest as he lay there, paralyzed by fear. His nightmares, already plaguing him since he’d been imprisoned, had only grown worse since he’d been brought to this place.
Ezra had no idea how much time passed -- it could have been just minutes, or it could have been hours -- before the door opened with a sharp hiss. Ezra gasped and shrank in on himself, trying to make himself seem as small as possible as the guards entered the cell. As one of the guards grabbed his arm, Ezra reached out and grabbed the edge of the bunk with his other hand. He knew it wouldn’t do him any good, but he couldn’t just go with them without resisting. Even after everything they’d done to him, he wasn’t that broken yet.
The guard who’d grabbed him, a man about the same age as Ezra’s parents, released him and removed a shockprod from his belt. The look on his face seemed almost bored as he pressed the shockprod to Ezra’s side. Ezra’s body spasmed, forcing him to release his grip on the bunk. The guard dragged him off of it and threw him to the ground, activating the shockprod again and running it up Ezra’s spine.
Ezra screamed as he convulsed on the ground. As the shockprod was pulled away from his body, pain burst across his side as the guard kicked him. Ezra barely had a chance to get his breath back before the guards each grabbed one of his arms and hauled him to his feet, dragging him from the cell. He didn’t bother struggling anymore, focusing only on staying on his feet and keeping up with the guards so they didn’t end up dragging him down the corridor.
They turned left at the end of the long row of cells, and Ezra began trembling as the guards marched him toward another door at the far end of the hallway. It didn’t look any different than the other doors in this place, but Ezra knew it on sight. He was shaking so hard he could barely move as the guards opened the door and pulled him through it. Ezra felt something grow tight in his chest, so tight he couldn’t breathe, as his eyes locked onto the metal chair bolted to the floor in the center of the room.
The guards wrenched him forward and shoved him into the chair, pinning his arms down so his wrists were inside the cuffs attached to the arms of the chair. With a sharp, high-pitched electronic buzz, the cuffs activated, locking his wrists into place. With another buzz, cuffs locked around his ankles as well.
Once Ezra was securely restrained, the guards left, leaving him alone in the dark room, waiting. Ezra turned his head, trying to see over his shoulder to look at the door as if that would make it open any faster, but with his wrists and ankles held so tightly in place, it was nearly impossible to see past the high back of the metal chair.
Ezra began to tug lightly at the restraints, even though he knew perfectly well by now that it was useless. Tears that he’d barely been able to hold back on his trek through the corridors began to leak from his eyes as all the worst-case scenarios spun through his head. Sometimes when they brought him here, it felt like an interrogation, though they only asked him about his dreams and emotions. Sometimes they only hurt him, not even asking him any questions, like they were just doing it for fun.
Ezra nervously chewed on his lower lip. At least it’s not the lab, he thought. He repeated those words over and over in his head, trying to reassure himself. But the thought did nothing to help him feel better. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t strapped down to a table with needles being shoved into him. They were still going to hurt him here.
At long last, the door opened, the quiet mechanical hiss drawing a quiet whimper from Ezra’s throat. More tears slid down his face as footsteps approached, the sound of each step against the metal floor sending a cold spike of fear shooting through him until he felt like he’d been stuck with pins and needles all over his body.
When the Inquisitor stood in front of Ezra, he couldn’t hold back a sob when he saw that it was the Seventh Sister. She was one of the most brutal of all of them, in some ways even more than the Pau’an, and she seemed to take a terrifying amount of pleasure in tormenting him.
“Good morning, little one,” she said, cupping Ezra’s face with that too-light touch that made his skin crawl and forcing him to look up at her. “How did you sleep?”
Ezra let out a low, bitter noise that sounded almost like a growl as he pulled away from her touch and stared down at the floor, clenching his jaw and refusing to speak.
“Must we do this every time?” Seventh Sister asked with a sigh. Ezra gasped as she grabbed his hair, wrenching his head back and forcing him to look up at her again. His eyes widened and he began shaking as he stared up at her face.
“Luckily for you, your manners aren’t what I’m here for,” she said, smiling as she released him. “I have a surprise for you.”
Ezra whimpered, shrinking against the chair he was bound to. The Seventh Sister was still smiling as she turned on the datapad she held in her free hand. After a moment, she turned it around so Ezra could see the screen.
Ezra felt as if something had wrapped tightly around his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs, as he recognized his mother. She was on the ground, crying out in pain as a stormtrooper’s boot connected with her side. As she tried to crawl away, another trooper brought his foot down on her hand and a loud snapping sound crackled through the datapad’s speakers. As she tried to sit up, pulling her broken hand close to her chest, she was kicked in the stomach, and a second later, the stormtrooper who’d kicked her jammed his shockprod against her back.
Ezra stared wide-eyed as his mother screamed and crumpled back to the floor, breathing heavily. What he was seeing on the screen was exactly what he’d seen in his dream.
“S--stop,” Ezra said, his voice shaking as he tore his gaze away from the screen and closed his eyes.
A sharp crack echoed through the room and pain burst across Ezra’s face as the Inquisitor struck him.
“Did I say you could look away?” she asked.
Ezra whimpered, wrenching at the restraints around his wrists.
“Answer me, brat,” the Inquisitor snapped. “Did I say you could look away?”
“N--no!”
Another slap and Ezra felt his lip split open, sending a small trickle of blood down his chin.
“N--no, Master,” Ezra said, now trembling so much that the edges of the cuffs dug into his skin over and over.
“Then open your eyes,” the Seventh Sister hissed.
Ezra obeyed just in time to see his mother being grabbed by the hair and dragged to her feet. As Ezra watched, she was pinned down on a metal table, restraints closing around her wrists, ankles, and chest.
“No!” Ezra cried. He knew exactly what was going to happen. He’d seen it in his dream once already, and now he had to see it again.
Sure enough, his mother screamed as a sharp burst of electricity shot through her body. Ezra shrank back against the chair, his screams mingling together with his mother’s as he wrenched at his restraints.
As his mother was shocked again and again, Ezra tore his eyes away from the screen, staring down at the floor.
“Stop!” he cried. “Please!”
The Seventh Sister grabbed his hair, turning his face toward the screen and slamming his head back against the chair.
“What’s the matter, little one?” she asked, a smile on her face that reminded Ezra of a dog baring its teeth before it attacked. “Don’t you want to see your mother?”
“Stop!” Ezra screamed. As he wrenched at the restraints, his mind was turning to static, his ears ringing as tears burned at his eyes. He didn’t dare close them, knowing it would only cause her to hurt him again. He just wanted this to stop. He wanted to close his eyes, he wanted to look away, he wanted her kriffing hand off of him, he wanted to scream, he wanted to hurt her, he wanted --
The datapad shot out of the Seventh Sister’s hand, flying across the room until it struck the wall and fell to the floor.
As the Inquisitor released him, Ezra’s eyes went wide, his mouth gaping slightly as he stared at the datapad lying on the floor. Somehow, he knew he was the reason it had hit the wall. It didn’t make any sense. He hadn't touched it. He couldn’t. But he knew he’d thrown it somehow.
As the realization settled into his mind, Ezra began shaking as sheer terror coursed through him. She’d hit him just for closing his eyes. What would she do to him for throwing the datapad across the room?
A smile spread across the Inquisitor’s face and Ezra’s heart turned to ice. When she smiled like that, it always meant something terrible. Ezra whimpered, shrinking back against the chair as much as he could while tightly restrained.
“It looks like we were right about you, after all,” she said.
She reached out and the datapad flew back across the room to her hand. Ezra’s breath came in short, sharp gasps as she tapped the datapad’s screen and turned it around so he could see it again. Ezra’s throat felt like it was closing up as he stared at the image of his father, restrained with a blaster pointed at his head. Ezra’s ears were ringing too loudly for him to hear the threat the ISB agent was making or his father’s response. His heart pounded as he stared wide-eyed at the screen, too afraid to close his eyes. She was going to make him watch his father die and he couldn’t do a thing to stop it.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Ezra watched the agent pull the trigger. Ezra’s throat burned as he screamed. His father flinched, and the ISB agent smiled, lowering the uncharged blaster.
Ezra began sobbing, struggling to break out of the Inquisitor’s grip. She released him, staring down at him with a look on her face as if she was looking at something disgusting stuck to her boot. Her hand twitched toward him and Ezra flinched, only to stare down at his hands as the cuffs binding him to the chair opened on their own. The Seventh Sister grabbed the front of Ezra’s shirt and hauled him to his feet before throwing him to the ground. Ezra tried to crawl away from her, only for her boot to slam down on his back, her heel digging into his spine, pinning him to the floor.
“It looks like we still have work to do,” she said.
Ezra huddled in the corner of the room, trying to make himself as small as possible, as if that would save him from the Seventh Sister’s attack. His throat tightened and he was pulled off the ground, his legs kicking at the air beneath him as she approached. The invisible grip around his neck vanished and he landed on his feet just in time for her hand to close around his throat, slamming his head back against the wall.
“Stop,” he gasped, trying to pry her fingers away from his neck only for her to tighten her grip.
“If you want this to stop,” the Inquisitor said, pulling him away from the all and slamming him back against it again, “then make me stop. You know what you felt last time.”
Ezra’s head was pounding, and not just from the lack of air. Rage boiled in his chest, burning him from the inside out. He was painfully aware that the Seventh Sister could kill him right here. His parents would never know, and no one would care, and he was past the point of being scared. He was just angry. Beyond angry. He was furious. Every day in this place, the Seventh Sister or one of the other Inquisitors hurt him and enjoyed every moment of it. As he stood there, pinned against the wall, the Inquisitor’s fingers digging into his throat, he could feel every bruise and cut and burn that had marked his body since the day he’d been taken from his parents, and he wanted to repay all of them a hundred times over. He hated her. He hated this place. He hated how helpless he felt here. He hated the constant fear that hung over his head, reminding him that any day could be his last. He hated and hated and hated and --
The Inquisitor’s hand abruptly vanished from his throat as she stumbled two steps back. It was only a short distance, but it was enough that Ezra was finally able to draw in a gasp of air. He shrank back against the wall, hunched over, breathing heavily, one hand rubbing at his neck, as he glanced at the Inquisitor and quickly looked away again, not wanting to see her face.
“Pathetic,” she said, once again fixing Ezra with that look like he was a bug she’d stepped on. “But that will do for now.”
She turned away from Ezra, crossing the room and opening the door before speaking to the two guards standing guard in the corridor.
“Take him back to his cell,” she said. As the guards entered the room, the Inquisitor turned back to Ezra.
“We’ll pick this up again tomorrow,” she said.
The guards roughly grabbed Ezra’s arms and led him out of the room. When they reached his cell, they shoved him inside, sending him sprawling onto the floor.
Ezra stayed where he was until he heard the door shut behind him. Slowly, he pushed himself up onto his knees and hugged his arms around himself. As tears began stinging at his eyes, one hand slid up to cover his mouth and muffle the sound of his sobbing. He still didn’t understand what had just happened. He only knew that the Inquisitor had seemed to want it to happen, and she was going to put him through the same pain and terror tomorrow to try and make it happen again. And there was nothing he could do about it.
He was trapped here, helpless, with no way out, and nothing he could do to stop them from hurting him again and again.