If mother became a mother (Taylor Swift adoption story)

Nightmares

Tw: abuse

Taylor's POV:

I return to the main area of the restaurant and walk over to travis, Hailey closely following me, I whisper "Hailey just had a bad panic attack in the bathroom. can you pay for the food, please I am going to walk her to the car." "of course I can, you go and stay with her, I need to start heading home anyway I have practice early tomorrow morning." (btw they do live separately, they haven't moved in together yet.)

We just got home, "Hailey, how are you feeling?" "Good just a bit tired, I think I might go to seep slightly early today" "I will do the same hails, let me show you your room" 

Haileys POV:

We go upstairs and she shows me a beautiful room opposite hers, "we still had to finish some stuff up when you arrived so I decided to show you now" "Thank you Taylor, I love it". "Remember if you need anything you can come get me, ok" she says whilst tucking me into bed. "goodnight, hails" "goodnight"I say as she starts walking away. She leaves the door open ajar and goes to her room but I didn't want to sleep 'what if I got a nightmare'. 

As I tossed and turned in my sleep, the peaceful darkness of my room was shattered by an unavoidable nightmare that would find me sooner or later. I found myself back in my childhood home, a place that, I had tried so hard to forget. The atmosphere was a thick sense of dread hanging in the air. The walls, once littered with cheerful pictures, now seemed to close in on me, their shadows lengthening and twisting into ominous shapes that crept toward me with bitter intentions. Every detail of the house was etched in sharp, cruel relief (the faded wallpaper, the creaking floorboards, the musty scent of neglect) all of it conspired to drag me back to a time I had longed to escape.

Suddenly, I was face-to-face with my father, his towering figure looming over me in the dim, flickering light of the old chandelier. His face was a mask of rage and his eyes burned with an almost inhuman fury. I tried to move, to run, but my legs felt like they ware stuck down, rooted to the spot by an invisible, paralysing force. His voice, dripping with contempt and anger, thundered through the room, each word a jagged blade that cut through the fragile defenses I had built over the years. His shouts created echos off the walls, so loud that they seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, only adding to my terror.

As his voice reached a fever pitch, I saw the belt in his hand, its worn leather glinting menacingly in the dim light. I tried to shrink away, pressing myself against the wall, but there was no escape. The first strike came down with a sickening crack, the pain exploding across my back like a searing brand. My body cried in pain with the shock of it, my breath stolen by the intensity of the pain. I could feel each blow as if it were happening in real time, the belt's impact radiating through me, each strike accompanied by my father's cruel, mocking laughter.

"You're worthless!" he bellowed, the words slicing through me like knives. "Nothing but a burden!" Each insult was punctuated by another blow, my skin burning, my muscles screaming in agony. My desperate cries for help were swallowed by the thick, stifling silence, as if the very air conspired to muffle my voice. My mother's distant, sorrowful gaze pierced through the chaos, her eyes filled with a helpless sorrow that only deepened my sense of isolation and abandonment. The walls, which should have provided a sanctuary, now seemed like the boundaries of a prison, pulsating with a malevolence that mirrored my father's wrath.

The room itself appeared to warp and distort, the corners melting into a dark whirlpool that seemed to pull me in. The physical pain began to blend with a profound emotional agony. I felt myself spiraling downward into a bottomless pit, my father's angry visage the last thing I saw before the darkness enveloped me completely. The laughter, now a like haunting chorus, followed me into the void, a reminder of the terror that had shaped my childhood. The sensation of falling seemed to stretch on forever, each moment filled with a suffocating sense of dread and despair.

In the darkness, I heard a new sound—my own voice, younger and frailer, pleading for mercy. "Please, Daddy, stop!" the child-me cried, but the pleas only seemed to fuel his rage. The blows came harder and faster, each one a relentless wave of torment. The younger me's sobs echoed around me, a haunting symphony of pain and fear that mingled with my father's unyielding fury. The darkness around me pulsed with the memories of countless nights like this, the overwhelming sense of helplessness that had defined my childhood.

I wake up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding from the vivid nightmare that just jarred me from sleep. The darkness of my room feels suffocating, shadows dancing ominously in the corners. Just as I start to feel overwhelmed, the door gently creaks open, and a soft, warm light spills into the room.

Taylor steps in, her face etched with concern and love. "Hey, sweetheart, are you okay?" she asks softly, her voice soothing.

I nod, though my breath still comes in uneven gasps. She moves quietly to my side, sitting on the edge of my bed and wrapping me in a gentle, protective embrace, her arms felt like the safest place on earth. The scent of her familiar perfume instantly calms me, despite the fact that we've only just met.

"It's going to be ok" she whispers, stroking my hair tenderly. "You had a bad dream, but it's over now. I'm here with you."

I bury my face in her shoulder, feeling the warmth and comfort of her presence seep into me. She starts to hum never grow up, a gesture of comfort even though we've only known each other for a day. The soft melody washes over me, chasing away the remaining fear.

"I'm not going anywhere," she continues, her voice a gentle promise. "You're safe now. You're always going to be safe with me."

She reaches over and turns on a small nightlight by my bed, casting a gentle glow that makes the room feel more secure. "Whenever you need me, just call. I'll always be here."

With her by my side, the shadows of my father seem to vanish, and the room feels warm and safe again. I snuggle closer to her, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against my cheek. Her presence, her warmth, and her love wrap around me like a soft, comforting blanket, despite the fact that we've only just begun our journey together.

As she continues to hum, my eyelids grow heavy. The fear from the nightmare fades away completely, replaced by the deep, sense of security that only she can provide. I know, even after just one day, that with her here, I can face anything—even the darkest of dreams.

Seeing that I'm still a bit shaken, Taylor gently suggests, "Would you like to sleep with me tonight? Just to make sure you're okay?"

I hesitate, unsure whether to accept such a personal invitation from someone I've only just met. But the concern in her eyes is genuine, and I find myself nodding. "Okay," I whisper softly.

She smiles warmly, relieved. "Great. Let's go."

She helps me out of bed, leading me to her room. The bed is soft and inviting, and I can feel my tension easing as I sink into the mattress beside her.

"Thank you," I say quietly, feeling a rush of gratitude for her kindness.

She pulls me close, wrapping me in a warm embrace. "Anytime, sweetheart. I'm here for you."

As we settle in for the night, her steady presence beside me fills me with a sense of safety and belonging, despite the fact that we've only just met. And as sleep finally claims me once more, I know that, with Taylor by my side, I am not alone.

Throughout the night, whenever I stir, Taylor is there, offering soothing words and gentle touches. Her presence is a constant reassurance, and I find myself drifting into the deepest, most restful sleep I've had in ages.

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