Those 7 years: Missing One Shot Chapter

29

Taylor's POV

The day feels like it's crawling, even though time is slipping through my fingers. I'm sitting on the couch, staring at the TV, but I'm not watching it. It's just background noise, something to drown out the incessant whispering in my head. You should have done better. You're weak. You're broken. How can anyone love you like this?

I pull the blanket tighter around me, even though it's not cold. I don't know how long I've been sitting here, but Leo's giggles in the background keep pulling me back to reality. He's playing with his cars, lining them up one by one on the carpet. I want to join him, but I don't have the energy. I want to feel normal, like a good mother, but every time I try, the weight in my chest pulls me down, dragging me under.

A knock at the door startles me. My heart jumps, my hands clenching the blanket. I hear the door creak open, and then Abigail's voice fills the quiet, bringing warmth and familiarity with it.

"Hey, Tay," she says softly, stepping into the room. Her eyes find Leo first, and she smiles, kneeling down to scoop him up in her arms. "How's my favorite little nephew?"

Leo squeals in delight as she twirls him around, his laughter echoing through the room. For a moment, the voices quiet, and I manage a small smile, though it doesn't reach my eyes. I'm grateful she's here. I need the break, the quiet, but I also hate that I need it.

"Thanks for coming," I say, my voice hoarse from disuse. I clear my throat, trying to sound more normal, but it's hard to shake the exhaustion in my bones. "I just... I need a little time."

Abigail looks at me, her face soft with understanding. "Of course, Tay. Take all the time you need. We'll go to the park for a bit, maybe get some ice cream, huh, Leo?" She winks at him, and he nods excitedly, his little arms wrapping around her neck.

I feel a pang of guilt as I watch them. I should be the one taking Leo to the park, spending time with him, being a mom. But I'm not. I can't.

You're a burden. She has to pick up your slack because you're too weak to do it yourself.

I push the thought away, forcing a small smile. "Thanks, Abigail. Really."

She reaches out and squeezes my hand before heading for the door, Leo chattering away in her arms. The door clicks shut behind them, and the house falls into silence. The emptiness settles in, heavy and suffocating. The voices come back, louder now that I'm alone.

Why can't you be better for him? For Travis?

I stand up, pacing the living room, trying to shake off the dark cloud looming over me. I walk to the kitchen, the weight of my own thoughts pressing down harder with every step. I pour a glass of water, my hands trembling as I bring it to my lips.

But the water doesn't wash away the whispers. It doesn't drown out the voices.

You tried to drown yourself once. You'll do it again. You're just waiting for the right moment.

I grip the edge of the counter, my knuckles turning white. Stop it. I tell myself. Stop thinking like this. But it's so hard. Every day feels like a battle, and I don't know how much longer I can keep fighting.

Travis's POV

I sit in the therapist's office, staring at the small clock on her desk. I can hear the quiet ticking, each second feeling heavier than the last. I'm trying to process what I just told her, how I found Taylor that night, how helpless I felt. How scared I was.

Dr. Harlow sits across from me, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She's calm, collected, but there's something in her eyes—something that tells me she understands the gravity of the situation.