Call It What You Want - a Taylor Swift Story

Part 9

Taylor's POV:

I woke up early, if you could call it sleeping and walked over to my guest room where Lila was I   still asleep, her tiny form nestled under the blankets. For a moment, I just watched her, feeling grateful she was safe here, but also anxious about what lay ahead.

As she slowly blinked awake, I smiled. "Good morning, sleepyhead!"

"Morning," she replied, her voice still thick with sleep. I could see a hint of worry in her eyes, and I knew today was the day I needed to encourage her to share more about what was going on.

"Can we talk about everything that happened yesterday?" I asked gently, sitting cross-legged next to her. "I want to make sure you're okay."

Lila hesitated, biting her lip. "I... I'm fine, really. My mom isn't normally like that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"But Lila," I pressed, "you don't have to protect her. You deserve to be safe, and if something's wrong, I want to help. Please, can you tell me what's really going on?"

She looked down at her hands, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. "It's just... sometimes she gets really stressed. She works a lot, and I think sometimes she just needs a break. I know she loves me. It's just... complicated."

I felt a pang in my heart. "I get that it's complicated, but it's okay to talk about it. You're not alone in this. I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you."

Lila took a deep breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I don't want to get her in trouble," she said, her voice quivering. "I don't want anyone to think she's a bad mom."

"She's not a bad mom for struggling, but if she's hurting you, that's not okay. You deserve to feel safe and loved," I said softly, trying to convey the urgency of the situation without overwhelming her.

After a long pause, Lila finally nodded. "Okay, but I really don't want to go home. What if she's mad?"

I felt a lump in my throat. "You can stay here as long as you need. We'll figure it out together."

But as the morning wore on, the reality of Lila's situation loomed large. Eventually, she would have to go home. My heart sank at the thought of what might await her there. I could get into a lot of trouble for keeping her here without the proper paperwork. Tree would kill me.

When the time came, I walked Lila to the front door, anxiety knotting in my stomach. "Are you ready?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light, even though I felt anything but.

"I guess," she murmured, her small frame tense with apprehension.

"Just remember, you can always call me if you need help, okay? I'm just a text away," I reassured her, squeezing her hand gently.

She nodded, taking a deep breath as she opened the door. We stepped outside, and I could feel the heaviness of the air. Lila looked so small against the backdrop of her house, and I wished I could shield her from whatever awaited her inside.

As she walked up to the door, I could see the fear etched on her face. I wanted to rush in and protect her, but I knew that wasn't an option. "You've got this, Lila," I called out, forcing a smile.

"Thanks, Taylor," she whispered, giving me a fleeting smile before turning to face her home.

As she stepped inside, I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me. I wanted to scream for her to come back, to stay with me forever. But I knew I had to trust her strength, even as my heart ached for her.

After a moment, I turned away, knowing I had to give her space to face her fate. The day ahead felt heavy, but I promised myself I wouldn't stop fighting for Lila. I'd be there for her, no matter what.

I waited for what felt like an eternity, pacing back and forth on the porch before walking back to my car cringing at the thought of leaving Lila alone.

Lila's POV: 

 "Lila! Where have you been?" Her mom's voice was sharp, filled with rage.

"I'm sorry, Mommy!" Lila's small voice cried out, barely audible over the anger.

"Sorry? You think that's enough? You think you can just run off? You're such a disappointment!" My mother's tone grew more violent, the threat of something darker lingering in the air.

Panic surged through me. I couldn't just stand there. I had to do something. I reached for my phone, ready to call for help, but then I heard a loud crash. My mom began throwing things at me around from around the room, desperate to hit me with anything she had available.

The rest of the day past by in a blur of me avoiding my mom and my mom yelling at me from across the house. I spent long periods of time wondering how I would hide my injuries this time as she cut my arm with a bottle she threw at me and I was sure to be bruised. 

The thought of hiding my injuries from Taylor felt heavy but she couldn't know. There was simply no way she could find out the whole story. My mom would get in trouble and I would end up in child services. I had a cousin who was in child services and she did not have good stories... the idea alone made me shudder with anxiety. 

Taylor's POV:

The next day, the excitement was electric in the dance studio as we neared the end of rehearsals before the actual filming of the video was due to take place, but my joy quickly turned to concern when Lila didn't show up. I reached out to her mother, but our conversation left me feeling unsettled, apparently she was sick. There was something deeper going on, something I needed to uncover. The more I learned about Lila, the more my heart ached for her.

I decided to visit her at home to check on her, I took a deep breath as I drove to her house after rehearsal, steeling myself for the conversation ahead.

When Lila's mom, Sarah opened the door, I could see the weight on her shoulders. I could sense an immediate tension. She didn't seem pleased to see me. Her eyes dark and cold. Much to my concern, Lila was no where to be seen when I peaked into the dark house. As I spoke to Sarah, it was clear I wasnt a welcome visitor to this house and she was clearly disracted by something.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice cool.

"I'm here to check on Lila. I'm really concerned about her," I replied gently, hoping to bridge the gap.

Her mother crossed her arms, looking skeptical. "Lila doesn't want to see anyone right now. She is sick, in bed." I stuck my foot in the door, desperate to keep it open.

I felt a pang of frustration but understood the need to respect her mothers boundaries. "I just wanted to check on her"

The door remained partially open, but I could tell I was not welcome. "I said she is sick," her mother repeated, more firmly this time.

Defeated but not ready to give up, I thanked her and stepped back. As I walked away, I felt a mix of sadness and determination. I knew Lila was struggling, and I couldn't let her slip through the cracks.

That night, I couldn't shake the feeling that I needed to reach out to Lila again. I decided to send her a message, letting her know I was thinking of her and that I believed in her. I hoped she would feel the love and support surrounding her.

The next day, to my relief, I received a response. Lila expressed that she was okay and would be back at practise soon. I felt a surge of hope, knowing I had to celebrate this small victory. However I was also acutely aware that practise was coming to an end and my days of contact with Lila were numbered if I didnt act quickly. 

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S :)