band-aids don't fix bullet holes

{78} out of control

TW: mentions of ED and blood

Taylor's POV:

"Everthing looks okay so far. The advantage is that most of your injuries have already healed. I'd like to leave the G-Tube in a little longer though, because your body needs the nutrition. You're severely underweight Ms. Swift and I do not think the hostage situation is the
only reason for that." The doctor explains after he has run some tests.

"G-Tube?" I question.

"A Gastrostomy Tube. It's the tube inserted through the wall of your abdomen directly into the stomach. You might have noticed. It allows air and fluid to leave the stomach and is used to give drugs and liquids, including liquid fo-"

"No." I answer harshly. "Take it out. I am capable of eating on my own."
My chest tightens as the thoughts spiral. I worked so hard to keep my stomach empty, not having to eat being the only advantage of Joe's violence.
I want to scream, to tear it out. But the fear of what might happen if I do holds me still.

"Ms. Swift, I don't think you're capable of eating on your own yet, you just woke up from a coma. And even if you were capable of eating on your own, I'd still recommend leaving the tube in. We need to get your weight up, as quickly as possible, otherwise you're looking at consequences such as multiple organ failure." He tries to change my mind with brutal honesty.

"Taylor...it's for the best." Travis adds, who returned back to his chair while I was undergoing some check ups.

"No way I'm letting you give me any more unnecessary calories I have absolutely no control over. You have been doing that for the past six weeks, I assume." I snap.

Nothing about this is for the best. They act like they're helping, like I'm fragile, like I need this to survive. But they don't understand. No one understands. It's not about the food. It's about being in control of my own body, my own choices. And now mentioning there's a tube inserted into my stomach, calories flowing through at any time, is ripping that control away from me.

"I don't think you are aware of how serious this is." Dr. Webber continues.

"I do. I will eat, I promise." I say.

I hear my boyfriend let out a shaky breath like he can sense the lie in my words.

"Taylor...please." The footballer chokes out desperately, before I turn my head to meet his eyes.

"Trav, you don't understand. It needs to be out!" I answer with quivering lips.

I feel disgusting. My stomach churns with the thought of whatever they're feeding me through the tube. It's inside me, taking up space, and I can't stop it. I see it right in front of me - liquid calories, nutrition, everything I've worked so hard to avoid being forced into me, violating the one place I had been keeping safe.

I want to claw the tube out. I imagine myself doing it, fingers digging into the tape, pulling until it's free. But the thought of the doctor rushing to stop me—it keeps me paralyzed. He'd probably just replace it, force it back in, tell me I don't understand. But I do understand. I understand better than any of them. This isn't saving me; it's taking everything I am away.

"I'll give you some time to adjust to this situation, okay? I'll be back later." The doctor bids goodbye before slipping out of the room.

"Is it okay if I quickly head outside too? To get some fresh air." Travis then asks carefully, a soft smile tugging at his lips, though I can see in his eyes that he's terrified. Terrified that now that he saved me, it's the eating disorder that might kill me if I don't start fighting against it.