“I see through the cracks in your mask,” she said. “You’re haunted. You can’t stop seeing what you did to your father.” She imagined that moment as clearly as she could, Han’s hand on Kylo’s cheek, gazing at his son with love even as his dying body slumped over the chaotic red lightsaber that had skewered him. Rey wrapped her mind around the image. Threw it at Kylo. He flinched.
