TERMS AND CONDITIONS---TAYLOR FANFICTION

3. YOU BREAK ME

[TAYLOR SWIFT]

WARNING:- CONTAINS ABUSE

Someone is trying to wake me up, not gently though. They are roughly shaking my shoulders and occasionally swatting my arms. My mind remains shrouded in the lingering haze of alcohol, obscuring my grasp of the world around me.

I groggily try to open my eyes against the bright light of the room , but the effort only results in a sharp pain shooting through my head. I muster a feeble murmur of dissent, yearning for reprieve to linger in slumber a while longer.

"Fucking wake up, Taylor." It is a masculine voice that I recognize.

"Let me sleep, Joe." I manage to croak out, my voice hoarse.

My boyfriend roughly shakes my shoulder again, patting my cheeks, "Get your ass up. Now." His tone sends a shiver down my spine, prompting me to rise and dispel the lingering fog of sleep, unveiling his gaze filled with apprehension.

"What is it, honey?" I ask groggily, still not fully awake. His grip on my forearm tightens, causing me to wince in pain. "Joe, it hurts."

"This hurts nothing to the hurt you cause me right now." He speaks harshly, devoid of any softness. His words land upon me with the weight of a thousand stones, unveiling the gravity of the moment.

I muster up the strength to ask, "What did I do?"

"Oh, so Miss Swift doesn't remember her wild escapades." I flinch at the title he gave me, and I could sense the alcohol in his breath.

"You go out of the house when I am not there and without my permission. That to a bar with a friend I don't know about. Further, you drank alcohol without my permission." His angry eyes assess my whole body, and suddenly I am all uncomfortable by it.

I terribly forgot how he warned me not to go out of the house. I guess it is all part of my punishment.

Taylor, just be quiet and take it.

Then he will care for you.

"You wore this fucking revealing dress too." He says his grip on my forearm tightens to a point where I can't take it anymore.

"Joe, the dress is fine." I speak out, assessing my dress too. It falls to my knees elegantly , not revealing anything inappropriate. It's neckline is modest, and the fabric is not too clingy. I try to reason with him, hoping he will see that I did nothing wrong by wearing it. His anger escalates, sending a wave of fear through me, anticipating the worst.

But Joe's anger is not about the dress; it's about control.

Which I terribly forgot to consider before going out.

"You want the men out there to look at you," he accuses, his voice rising. I realize then that this is not about the dress but about his need to dominate and possess me.

"No, it just—

"What? You go out with a stranger, and it is just nothing." He barks , his face contorted with rage. His fingers release my forearm and close around my neck , squeezing tightly.

"It was Selena. Everyone knows Selena Gomez." I manage to choke out before his grip tightens further. "I didn't think it would matter," I gasp, struggling to breathe as his anger consumes him.

"You wanted to be a slut and embarrass me in front of everyone," he seethes, his eyes burning with fury. "I trusted you, and this is how you repay me?" I sway in denial, tears brimming in my eyes, awakening to the profound extent of his dominance and authority over me.

"Joe, you can't expect me to remain at home for weeks when you go out without any information. You should trust me." I try to reason with him , hoping to break through his anger and make him see reason. But his grip only tightens further, his face contorted with rage as he refuses to listen to me.