Begin Again

I Think Your House Is Haunted...

June 17th, 2023
Veronica's POV:

When I imagined what surprise songs Taylor Swift would be performing tonight in front of me during her concert, it never crossed my mind that she would end up singing the one song that hit the closest to home for me. Seven. Particularly the set of lyrics that goes "And I've been meaning to tell you, I think your house is haunted. Your dad is always mad and that must be why. And I think you should come live with me and we can be pirates. Then you won't have to cry or hide in the closet." It's like Taylor could see what's been going on in my household all this time even though she has no idea that I exist. I got the whole song on video but I flipped the camera on my phone so it showed me crying so hard I couldn't breathe during that specific section.

Against my better judgment, I posted the Seven video on Twitter with a caption that reads "It's one thing when you like a song, but it's another thing when you can relate to it on a personal level. Especially when it comes to something not so universal unlike your love life but more like when it comes in regards to your home life. I hope that no one else has to relate to a certain set of lyrics in this song the way that I do." I tagged Taylor Swift and Taylor Nation and added the Pittsburgh Eras Tour hashtag at the bottom before officially posting. Then I put my phone away and allowed myself to forget about my post as I watched the rest of Taylor performing The Story Of Us as the second surprise song tonight.

By the end of the concert, the thirty three followers I've managed to collect have liked my post, made comments, and even retweeted it. By the time I get out of the stadium, my phone has blown up. I gained over 200 followers and the comment section is flooded and the likes and retweet count is through the roof. I get a notification saying that Taylor Nation retweeted my post and I stop in my tracks and gape at my phone. Their caption reads "Too young to know it gets better 🥺 Taylor will be summer sun for you forever! We love you Veronica! 🫶🏻" I screenshot the retweet and turn my phone on do not disturb because the amount of notifications is making it impossible to use.

By the time I got home from walking two miles and taking a bus which dropped me five blocks away from the entrance to my neighborhood and then walking for thirty minutes to get to my house and then climbed the tree next to my bedroom upstairs and snuck through my window it's 1:30 am. It all came crashing down when I turned around to see my father standing in the doorway of my open bedroom door which I distinctly remember closing and locking before I left for the concert earlier.

"Where the hell have you been, you little shit?!" shouts the man who I was supposed to grow up calling "daddy." "Out," I state. "You tell me where you were for right now or I'll-" my father starts. "You'll what? Hit me? Kick me? Throw me? Yeah, you've done all of that and more," I snap.

I'm not scared of my father. Not really. When I was younger was I scared of him? Nothing short of petrified at the very thought of him. But now? After everything that I've been through I don't have it in me to fear him. I just don't. The fear stopped around the time I turned twelve but for the eleven years I was alive until then, he had me wrapped around his finger just based on the fear of him making things worse alone.

After all, the worst thing he's ever done was when he drove my mother away from me when I was one year old. The story allegedly goes that she couldn't take him and his alcohol and obsessive need to always be in control anymore so she left. He wouldn't let her take me with her. The only way to have me was to stay. She chose to run. And that was that. I haven't heard from her since. Don't know if she's even alive or in the US let alone the same state or city or if she's long since moved on and had more kids with a husband who loves her. I like to imagine that she's happy wherever she is even though it's not with me.

But back to the important thing that I was saying...

No matter what happens I know I can whisper Taylor Swift lyrics to myself to calm me down so in all honesty my dad can do his worst. I'll just get right back up again. Taylor said it best in You're Losing Me. "I'm getting tired even for a phoenix. Always rising from the ashes. Mending all her gashes. You might have just dealt the final blow."

My father strikes me in the face hard. It stings like hell but I'm so used to it that I don't let it faze me. I know that that first blow was just the beginning so I set my teeth and let the next ones happen. I learned a long time ago that fighting back is one of the dumbest things I could do when my father wants to beat me up like a punching bag. It's past 2:00 am when the abuse finally stops. I'm guessing my father got bored. That's usually why it stops. He leaves my room and the moment he's downstairs again, I close my door and look at my reflection in the mirror. The newest additions to my ever growing collection of bruises and scars are sitting on top of the layer of makeup I had put on not only to cover the marks of what goes on in my household but to also be more dressed up for the concert.

I sigh and begin to remove what's left of my makeup so I can properly tend to the few cuts that were added within the last fortyish minutes or so. I'm a hot mess to say the least. Have I looked worse? Yeah. But my father still did a number on me tonight. Thankfully school is already out for summer break so I don't have to worry about being healed enough for Monday or anything to avoid questions from the nosy kids in my classes.

The time on my phone reads 2:45 am by the time I'm out of my outfit, which was a replica of Taylor's Welcome To New York outfit she wore on certain shows during the 1989 tour. I had a 13 outlined on my hand like she did on the Speak Now tour and it took me forever to remove since I really wanted it to stay on. I had friendship bracelets up my wrists on both arms so of course I had to carefully find a spot to put them for safe keeping since if my dad were to find them he'd destroy them just to set me off. Anyway, I'm currently lying in bed staring at the ceiling watching the events of tonight play in my mind like a movie. The whole concert, Seven being played, the trek home, the unfortunate encounter with my father, and full circle back to right here and now. Sleep doesn't come easy to me on nights like this. I don't think that it should but I've noticed that it's always harder for me to fall asleep after suffering my father's wrath.

Thinking all of the lyrics to Never Grow Up in my head almost always soothes me. Especially when I don't think that Seven will work. Those are my two of my favorite comfort songs. Right up there with Begin Again, My Tears Ricochet, Soon You'll Get Better, Willow, and Tied Together With A Smile. I mean I have a playlist of eighteen Taylor Swift comfort songs and counting but those are my seven go to ones for most occasions. Not that you asked for any of those details, but I've already shown you my home life so why not my comfort songs?

As predicted, Never Grow Up does the trick and I find myself drifting off to sleep dreaming about meeting Taylor out on the streets of my town in Pittsburgh. Not that that would ever happen in real life. But in my dreams, anything is possible, especially meeting the woman who's saved my life without even knowing that I exist.