Requested by: @wonderland_7193
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**Six Months Ago...**
The day Travis Kelce faked his death was etched into Taylor Swift's mind, a date that would forever mark the beginning of her descent into darkness. The news had come in a rush, a harried phone call from a friend urging her to turn on the television. The image on the screen was of a car wreck, the familiar colors of Travis's vehicle a stark reminder of his vibrant presence in her life.
"Travis is gone," the anchor reported, her voice a mixture of sympathy and shock.
"No! No! This can't be happening!" Taylor had screamed, her world shattering around her. She dropped to the floor, her phone slipping from her hand as she cradled her head in her arms, sobs wracking her body.
In the weeks that followed, she attended the funeral in a haze, surrounded by friends and family who tried to offer support, but their words felt like a cruel joke. The grief was suffocating, and every reminder of Travis felt like a dagger to her heart. Her laughter faded, replaced by a haunting silence as she moved through life like a ghost.
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**Present Day**
Now, six months later, Taylor was a shell of her former self. She found herself wandering through darkened rooms in her home, the laughter and music that once filled the air replaced by an oppressive quiet. Her friends worried; they suggested therapy, but Taylor pushed them away, retreating further into her pain.
Nights were the worst. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, haunted by memories of Travis. The absence of his warm presence left a gaping void, and soon, she sought solace in a new way: control. As her world spun out of reach, she clung to her eating habits, believing that the only thing she could control was her body. Each day she ate less, believing it was the only thing that provided her with a sense of power in a life that felt increasingly chaotic.
"Taylor?" her mother's voice called softly one evening, knocking on her bedroom door. "Honey, can we talk?"
"Not now, Mom," Taylor replied, her voice flat and devoid of emotion.
"Please, just let me in," her mother urged, and after a long pause, Taylor relented.
When her mother entered, the concern etched on her face cut through Taylor's heart. "I'm worried about you. You need to eat something. It's been days since you had a proper meal."
"I'm fine," Taylor lied, pulling the blanket tighter around her.
But she wasn't fine. The mirror reflected a haunting image—skin stretched tightly over bones, shadows beneath her eyes. She felt like a ghost, lost in the echo of a life that once thrived with music and love.
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**A Dark Night**
The pain became unbearable. One night, as the stars twinkled outside her window, Taylor's heart felt heavy with despair. She had tried to reach out for help, but the darkness was relentless, whispering that she would never escape.
As if possessed, she slipped on a jacket and stepped outside into the cold night. The bridge loomed ahead, a solitary figure against the dark sky. It felt like a final destination, a place where she could finally find peace.
"Travis, I'm so sorry," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks as she approached the edge. "I miss you so much."
With a deep breath, she prepared to take that final leap into the abyss.
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**Travis's Perspective**
Meanwhile, Travis watched from afar, hidden in the shadows. After faking his death to protect Taylor from dangerous threats, he had spent the last months in anguish, knowing she believed he was gone. But a trusted friend had finally reached out, informing him of her deteriorating state.
