Wildest Dreams - A Taylor Swift Adoption Fanfiction

Chapter 6: The Staircase

Trigger warning for panic attack & childhood abuse talk & domestic violence talk

Hours pass. Taylor has calmed down and it became clear that Joe won't come near to her again. I think we are both relieved. But the reality of everything crashes down at once - the credit card, the phone, these strangers claiming they want to help. My chest gets tight, walls closing in. They're all watching me, waiting for me to be grateful - or something - to play the role of the saved orphan.

"Stop looking at me like that," I choke out, my emotions escaping me before I can control them. "Stop... stop acting like you know what I need. You don't know shit about me."

My hands are shaking. Can't breathe right. The room's too small, too crowded with their concern and expectations and fucking pity.

Tree starts to say something but Taylor cuts her off with a look. Of course she gets it. She knows what it's like when kindness feels like a trap, when every gentle touch comes with a price tag you can't see until it's too late.

"You think this fixes anything?" My voice cracks, goes high and desperate as I plan exit strategies. "A fancy credit card and some promises? Fuck that. Fuck all of this."

I'm pacing now, like a caged animal. My knee screams with every step but the pain helps, keeps me grounded when everything else is spinning out of control.

"You can't just... you can't just decide to save someone. That's not how this works. That's not..." I'm gulping air but it's not enough. Never enough. "I'm not your fucking charity case. I'm not your redemption story. I'm not..."

My voice breaks completely. The walls are definitely closing in now, black spots dancing at the edges of my vision. Someone moves toward me and I flinch so hard I slam into the counter. I didn't even realize I was in the kitchen.

"Don't," I snarl, but it comes out more like a sob. "Don't touch me. Don't... I can't..."

Taylor's face swims in my vision, all concern and understanding and everything I can't handle right now. She's saying something but I can't hear it over the roaring in my ears and my mind.

I bolt. It's what I'm good at, what I know. My knee nearly gives out as I run for the door but adrenaline carries me through. Someone calls my name - doesn't matter who. They all sound the same in the end, all the voices that promised to help, to care, to stay. They never stay.

I don't stop running until I hit the stairwell, until concrete walls replace the suffocating softness of Taylor's apartment. Until I can't hear anything but my own ragged breathing echoing off cold stairs. The fire door shuts hard behind me. My knee hurts, but I don't care.

I clutch the credit card in my pocket, dig the edge into my palm until it hurts. Their voices echo in my head - promises of safety, of family, of choices. There's always a catch. Always. I slide down the wall, concrete rough against my back, and try to remember how to breathe.

I press my forehead against my knees, trying to make myself smaller, trying to disappear into the cold concrete of the stairwell. My chest burns. Can't get enough air. Can't think straight.

A door opens somewhere above me. Footsteps echo down the stairs.

"Don't," I rasp out, not looking up. "Just don't."

The footsteps stop. Not too close, but close enough. I hear someone slide down to sit on the stairs. It's gotta be Taylor - I'm pretty sure Tree would tell me to fuck off and come back inside.

"Okay," Taylor's voice is quiet. Not gentle - I can't handle gentle right now - just quiet.

"I mean it." My voice cracks. "I'll jump over this fucking railing if you try to drag me back up there."