band-aids don't fix bullet holes

{12} ms. perfectly fine

TW: mentions of ED

Taylor's POV:

The shower was needed, more than needed even though I still can't seem to shake off the touch of his dirty hands.
As I stand in front of the huge mirror in the bedroom, I drop the towel that was neatly wrapped around my body, covering everything from my chest to my knees, and stare at my entire, naked figure while pinching the fat on my thighs.
"Just a little more..." I mutter to myself, trying to hold back the tears.
I've grown to hate my body in a way I never did before. To me, and obviously to everyone around me, the shape of my body is all I am and it's the only thing I can control, especially right now, so that's what I do. It's my way of handling things, my coping mechanism, well apart from the fact that Joe is quite encouraging when I comes to me and losing weight. He always liked skinny girls. That had been okay until I learned that he strives for the kind of skinny where collar bones show and cheek bones are as sharp as knives, while the color is draining from one's face. He never said it out loud but I know.
What I also know is, that the given description is not me, it could never be but maybe if I just came close enough maybe he'd love me enough to treat me in a better way. Maybe he wouldn't hit me anymore or force himself onto me, like he did just a short hour ago.

I turn away, now facing the wardrobe. I open it and pick out a pair of cozy pants, before deciding to top it with a knitted sweater my mom made for me, a few years ago.
"Mom." I mumble, realizing how I haven't talked to her in quite a while. I flop down on the bed and dial her number. It takes a few seconds before she picks up.

"Hey Mom." I try to sound as content as possible, because she is like the only person who can see right through me, detecting eventually every lie I try to sell to her.

"Sweetheart! It's so good to hear from you. How have you been? When are you and Joe finally coming to Nashville again?" Immediately pops out of the older woman.

"I'm fine, Mom and I don't know. I've been pretty busy, writing new music and stuff you know, as always..." I chuckle. "But I promise, we'll try to arrange flying over soon. How're you?"

"I hope you will. Oh I'm great. I got a bunch of new recipes from our new neighbor, such a sweet lady, and I really want to try them out but there's no use without anyone being here to do the ultimate taste-test." She rants and I can tell she must be grinning from ear to ear.

"Alright, Mom, I can't wait."

"Are you sure everything is alright tho?"
There it is, the second-guessing my words.

"Of course. You'd be the first to know if it wasn't." I assure her, feeling slightly bad for lying. Well, if I told someone about how things are really going, she would be the first to know but I don't think I'm ready for that kind of conversation. I probably won't ever be.

"How's Dad?" I quickly change the subject. Even though my parents are divorced, they still live together. Apparently they didn't work out as a couple but work just perfectly as let's call it best friends.

"He's good, I guess. He's out in the garden, watering his plants. You know how they are his babys. Idiot." My Mom jokes.

I can't help but let out a laugh at the image of my Dad talking to his plants as if it were actual human beings while sprinkling them with some water. He would definitely do such thing.

"Be nice. It's his passion. To each his o-"

"Taylor!" I hear a shout from downstairs, the voice I know all too well, keeping me from finishing my sentence.

"Mom I gotta go. Talk to you
soon. Love you." I end the call before the woman gets a chance to return any words and rush downstairs.

"What happened?" I almost whisper, intimidated by the look in his eyes.

"Your bloody cats happened!" Joe spits out bitterly and points to a pool of urine on the floor. "I don't know which of them and I don't care but take care of it, now!"

I nod, then head to the kitchen to grab a cloth. Back in the living room I clean up the mess, probably left by Meredith.

"Thanks! Teach them some manners for god's sake!" The man snaps. "Or they'll have to go."

"They don't usually do this and you know it. It was an accident. I'm sure it won't happen again." I tell him, while avoiding his gaze.

"It better won't."

I want to swallow my words but this time they seem to just slip from my lips.
"Why are you so mad about it anyway?"

"It's disgusting, Taylor!" Joe grimaces angrily.

"Of course it's not appealing, but I feel like you're blaming me for it."

"They're YOUR cats!"

"Oh come on!" I shake my head in disbelief. "Whatever, you're right. Sorry."

I know it was best to just give in. I don't know what I expected but it doesn't matter now. I turn away from him and spend to rest of the day upstairs, in bed, too unmotivated to do anything else.
When Joe crawls into bed, at half past midnight, and under the covers, I move to the very edge of my own side, wishing I was already asleep.

—-

The next day is just as draining. Not having bothered to set an alarm the night before, it's almost lunchtime when I wake up.
Joe must be at work, since the house is awfully quiet and even the cats are still sleeping peacefully. I get ready after getting up. I change into a sports bra and a pair of leggings and make my way downstairs to the home gym, desperate to just run until my legs can't carry me anymore.
That's what I find myself doing a few minutes later. I run and run until I'm starting to feel lightheaded, but that doesn't stop me from continuing, instead I increase the speed. Only when my vision starts to get blurry and my throat is sore from the lack of water, I step off the treadmill, holding on to the wall, trying to get enough oxygen into my system. Slowly I lower myself until I reach the ground and sit down. If I hadn't done that, I'm sure I would have passed out right on the spot. I guess running used to be less exhausting or I've just been having some bad days.

Back in the living room, I allow myself to take in the atmosphere, that's always more comfortable when my boyfriend is out of the house. I basically spend the rest of the day doing just that until I hear the keys turn in the door. Not wanting to encouter Joe, I head upstairs and plant myself in a chair, in the music room and grab the guitar, letting my imagination flow.

A/N: Would you want Joe's POV as well?