[The sunlight around Rey glints harshly, and the edge of the table nearest her starts to dry and crack. For a moment she's tempted to just leave—a small dark part of her wants to strike out at him, but it's only a brief, passing urge—but what will that accomplish? He's right about one thing: he's offering this "truth" because he's uninformed.

She can fix that.]

I've had the bond open. At first because I didn't know how to stop it, but later because I liked it. I liked it because for the first time in my life I wasn't alone. And I thought maybe I could help someone who felt as alone as I did. [Rey's expression is still raw and angry, but there's a bit more moisture in her eyes than there was. She swallows thickly.]

I couldn't. Instead I just unleashed the most brutal monster the galaxy has known in generations. Worlds are being burned, neutral planets massacred, anyone who offers us the slightest bit of aid is killed without mercy, and it's because of me. So I shut our connection, and I'm never opening it again. [Rey puts her hands on the table, sand immediately starting to spread from underneath her palms, leaning on it both for support (talking that much with that much emotion is exhausting) and for emphasis.]

Don't act like you know the truth, because you don't. You don't know a damn thing about me.