Wildest Dreams - A Taylor Swift Adoption Fanfiction

Chapter 8: Trauma Bonding

Author's note: okay since Jason decided to be a menace this weekend I realized how long this fanfic will be cause now I really need to write Tree's reaction over what happened lmao but there's so much that needs to happen before Travis comes into the pic, so BUCKLE UP it'll be a long fanfic.

Sorry if this is dialogue heavy, I've been really practicing improving my dialogue writing cause I SUCKED at it in my previous fics. But please tell me if you want more narrative. You probably won't get it, but you can still tell me haha

The nightmare hits like they always do - darkness, Sister Katherine's voice, the endless hours in the basement. I jolt awake gasping, heart trying to punch through my chest.

For a moment, I don't know where I am. The room's too big, and too dark - and I hobble my way out and down the hall. Not to run or anything - well, maybe - just, for a change of scenery.

A light flicks on in the kitchen. The soft sound of someone moving around, trying to be quiet. My breathing slowly steadies as reality filters back in.

The noise from the kitchen stops. "Mandy?"

"No," I rasp out. "Ghost of Christmas Past."

A quiet laugh. Definitely Taylor. Probably a better option than Tree finding me in the middle of the night. "Want some hot chocolate?"

I should say no. Should pretend to go back to sleep. Should...

"Yeah."

I limp to the kitchen, trying not to make it obvious how much my knee hurts. Taylor's at the stove, stirring something in a pot. Her hair's a mess and she's wearing what looks like cat-themed pajamas.

"Nightmare?" she asks without turning around.

"No. Just really passionate about midnight snacks."

"Ah." She keeps stirring. "Is that why you were saying 'please stop' in your sleep?"

I freeze. Fuck.

"Here." She slides a mug toward me. Giving me space. "Fair warning - I bought like six different kinds of hot chocolate when I was stressed. This one's salted caramel."

"That's disgustingly fancy." But I take the mug anyway.

We stand in silence for a while, sipping our drinks. The clock on the microwave reads 3:17 AM.

"I get them too," she says finally after staring at a spot on the counter. "The nightmares."

"About Joe?"

"Sometimes." She doesn't look at me. "Sometimes about other things. People. Moments when I should've been stronger."

"That's bullshit."

Her head snaps up. "What?"

"The whole 'should've been stronger' thing." I grip my mug tighter. "That's what Sister Margaret used to say. That if we were stronger in our faith, she wouldn't have to hurt us."

Taylor's knuckles go white around her mug. "Mandy..."

"Don't." I take another sip, let the too-sweet chocolate burn my tongue. "Just... it's not about being strong. That's what they want you to think. That you could've stopped it if you were better somehow."

"Isn't that what you tell yourself?" Her voice is very quiet. "About running away?"

The mug nearly slips from my hands. This woman reads me too well. "That's different."

"Is it?"

"Yes." My voice cracks. "Because I actually could've... should've..."

"Should've what? Saved everyone? You're fourteen."