★ 𝒕𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒘𝒊𝒇𝒕 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔

-𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑼𝑫𝑬

dedicated to @immortaliz3d, as an alternative to.. something. the next chapter, maybe. i don't know, it's just a morbid blurb that i wanted to get out—sorry for the still delayed birthday present!! it'll be worth it tho ):

[severe mental health, lack of stability, self-harm, suicidal ideation and tendencies, all vague stuff, mentions of past hospitalization, technically angst]

———

Taylor steps in, leaning against the door and unzipping her boots.

It's eerily silent. No trace of you. She frowns and collapses on the couch, relaxing into the soft cushions as she calls out your name.

No response. She huffs, yelling out another "Y/N!" and waiting. Trying again, louder, "Come on! I got back, you're supposed to be ready by now."

She rolls around, landing on her side as she buries herself further into the couch. After a moment of closed eyes, she checks her phone for the time.

7:46. Taylor pursues her lips, sitting up and glancing at the staircase. "Kid, come on! We have fifteen minutes before we're supposed to be there!" Receiving no reply, frustration twitches her eyebrow as she stands fully and makes her way to your room.

"Y/N? I'm being serious, now," she says. "Are you ignoring me?"

Upon arrival, nothing is out of place. Yet, simply, you're not there. Taylor's eyes land on your journal—the one she bought you on New Year's—and curiosity forms within her.

She steps closer, inspecting it. Looking around, Taylor says, "Baby? Where are you? You know we're supposed to be leaving."

With bitten lips, she hesitantly opens the cover. Of course, she doesn't want to invade your privacy—but something wills her to read your thoughts. Recently, nothing has been clear with your behavior, and she's worried.

Her worry results into probing and long conversations, but they seem to never appear when you're avoiding her like the plague.

With a planned dinner, she was intending to approach you.

Something tells her to find out now.

January 3rd, 2024

I think it's getting bad again. I can't really remember what happened before—only a little bit, like white rooms and scheduled meals—but there's this feeling that is slowly beginning to creep up on me. Its shadow is threatening, and hums as if all that's needed is time. It acts as if once it bides time, it'll have a hold of me soon.

Well. Only time can tell, right?

(Taylor can hear her heartbeat. It's pounding up to her ears, rising with heated blood. What the fuck? What is she reading? Licking suddenly-dry lips, she continues on with confusion.)

January 28th, 2024

I'm scared. Fear is bubbling inside of me because I know. I'm trying to hang on—it's something I'm grappling onto with desperation, because my sanity is what makes me human. Otherwise, I'm a monster. Otherwise, my soul is lost completely.

(Oh, God. Terror jumps into her veins, flowing so naturally—the same way it did in the past. The past she's locked away so strongly, shedding any acknowledgment, refusing to open Pandora's Box.)

I don't know myself without my sanity. And I'm scared of the person who is to come, if I let go.

I feel the thread loosening. I don't know what to do. I'm fucking terrified.