You're On Your Own, Kid | A Taylor Swift Fanfiction

Taylor

"You never do anything fucking right in this house!"

My father was yelling at me again. I could see his red, watery eyes from the corner of my room I was backed into.

I could only stare at him. It's not like I haven't been through his lectures before. This time he was stung out on coke.

It was about 2am. He had woken me up just to scream at me and throw my things all over the floor. Yeah, he's been angry and abusive before, but I knew things would escalate more than they ever have the way he'd been acting lately.

"You're fucking useless! A fucking no good shit little kid!"

I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my chest. He had kicked me. He had kicked me so hard it was difficult to breathe. It felt as if my chest was caving in.

"Get away from me!" I sputtered out, probably not as powerful as I imagined, because I was swiftly yanked by my arm and thrown onto the ground in the middle of the room.

At this point things were getting fuzzy. I heard sirens, to which I thought were the usual police cars that ran through this part of the Bronx, but I was surprised to hear a door being kicked down, and the shuffle of handcuffs, and the next thing I knew I was in a hospital bed, and that's how I got here, a shitty orphanage.

I mean, it's not too bad, I get somewhat enough food if I do my chores, and since I'm the oldest, I do a lot of them. I'm pretty sure the lady only fosters us all for the money, but it's alright as long as she's not high.

We were on the brink of summer, and I was thinking about how horrible going back to school was going to be when my foster mom called my name.

"Y/n!" She screeched, appearing in the frame of the dining room door. "Some dumbass wants to meet you."

I sighed. I had learned not to expect much. Usually one of the younger kids got to go off and have a happy life with a rich couple somewhere. My foster mom made us all stand in a line for the soon to be parents to choose from, and they looked so delighted about it all too.

Once we got to the front office I looked around in confusion, then looked up in disbelief. A tall blonde woman stood before me at the desk, and I had this odd sense of familiarity.

"Hello there!" She smiled.

"Hi." I muttered.

"You sure you want this one? We've got some great little girls. This one's kind of a dimwit." She whispered the last part, but still loud enough for me to hear.

The blonde woman's eyes went wide for a second, then she cleared a throat.

"I'm completely sure. I think Y/n is great already." She said, smiling again. I couldn't help but smile back.

"Ugh. Fine. Sign these." My foster mom then turned to me, "hurry up and get your shit out of here. If she brings you back you're cleaning double the toilets!"

"Yes ma'am." I tried my best to be polite, but it's kind of difficult to be polite to someone so infuriating.

A weird jolt of excitement ran through my spine, and I practically frolicked my way to my room to pack my things.

Once I got back the blonde lady was already standing and waiting for me, that sweet smile still on her face. Once I actually stood next to her, I realized that she was much taller than me, but she slightly bent down to my level.

"Hi Y/n, I'm Taylor."