living for the hope of it all ~ Taylor Swift's Daughter

I. sometimes to run is the brave thing

Betty's POV

August 23, 2019

The song played through her headphones.

I know Heavens' a thing. I go there when you touch me, honey Hell is when I fight with you.
-

There was pounding at the door.

Would anyone get it?

The pounding continued.

I guess I'm getting it.

Betty Emile Allrad, a 15 year old girl born to a American family in a small town in Pennsylvania. Her outside family had dropped contact with her mother and father when she was six, when everything turned for worst. No one visited. Her thin hands tugged violently on the round door handle that always seemed to be stuck. No one really ever left the Allrad household. No one ever knew what went on inside.

No one knew how her father was constantly out on "business trips" and constantly drank away whatever guilt he even had of cheating on his wedded partner. No one knew how he would get physical with her if she screwed up one thing. She was constantly reminded of how she is "fucked in the head". No one knew that mother was constantly as filthy as their house and always out with her friends getting wasted and blacked out. She wasn't home most of the time but if she was you would constantly hear the drunken insults shouted at anyone around. And not a soul knew how beaten, battered, and bruised Betty was mentally, emotionally, and physically. It was unbearable.

But did anyone ever come and muster any courage to know of their stained, white, wooden door? Not a soul. That's maybe why it was an even bigger surprise that multiple police men stood in front of the thin and dirty girl. Her hair was pulled back messily, and her body was stained with bruises, cuts, and now dirt from her cleaning task. She looked like she had walked from Alaska all the way back to her small town in Pennsylvania.

"Are you, Betty Allrad?"

"Yes. What can I help you with?" She confirmed. Only a small voice spoke though. What did they want?

"Are your parents home with you?"

"Yes. Why?" Her father was actually home today and her mother was passed out drunk on their burned and stained couch.

"We need to speak with them. Mind if we enter?"

In a way, she felt she didn't have a choice. So in response, she shook her head and moved to the side, opening the door further as a gesture to have them step in. Both her parents were in view from the doorway. Fear overcame her.

Yelling. Resistance. Cursing. Breaking. Shattering. Justice.

The visit ended with both of her parents being shoved in separate cop cars shouting every curse word imaginable in both English and French. Betty had always thought that her being free would feel refreshing. It felt terrifying.

"Alright, Betty Allrad you need to come with us. You aren't in trouble, don't worry. Do you have any living relatives around here?"

She shook her head. No. Her extended family had cut contact with her parents and Betty refusing to talk to them. Their problems weren't a secret to them. Her aunts and uncles were thousands of miles away either in France or California. Her grandparents had gone to God years ago. The painful realization hit her that now, she had no one.

"Unfortunately, that means you'll have to be placed in the foster care system. Pennsylvania has a great system though and currently adoption rates are as high as they have ever been especially with people being out of work for summer. I'm sure you'll find a great family soon. Let me contact them for a case worker for you."

She followed him to his car. Police still roamed the house collecting and taking pictures of every corner. The property was lined with a yellow tape declaring an open investigation. As the car drove off, the last sight Betty got of her house was the tree she used to climb. The memory of hitting the peak of the tree when she had turned seven was present. She worked for years to get to the top. She pictured herself in the tree as she abandoned the house of memories. She left her life behind with only her headphones and nearly dead phone.

Oh afterglow! That's the next new song.

As the drums started, her comfort of Taylor's voice and the excitement of a new album flooded the blonde's body. Turns out that walking out is the strong thing.