Requested by: @Begjnagain
The news hit like a punch in the gut.
Taylor sat in front of the television, her heart sinking as the election results flashed across the screen. Donald Trump had won again, and fear washed over her in waves. Travis was sitting beside her, silent and tense, his arm draped around her shoulders. He could feel her tremble slightly, and he knew exactly why. This wasn't just political; it was personal. This was about her rights, the rights of her friends, family, and every woman she knew.
He glanced over at her, his heart breaking as he saw the look of worry and sadness in her eyes. He wished he could tell her everything would be okay, that she'd be safe. But he didn't know that. All he knew was that his girlfriend, his mom, and his sister-in-law Kylie were all at risk of losing the basic freedoms they had fought so hard for. He held Taylor tighter, trying to offer what comfort he could, but there were no words that could make this better.
Days passed, and a heaviness lingered over them. Conversations with family members turned into hushed, anxious discussions about what the future would hold, about how they could protect one another. Travis found himself researching, reading, trying to understand what steps he could take, but it all felt so overwhelming.
A year later, Taylor was headed to the studio for a writing session with Jack Antonoff. She tried to shake off the weariness she'd felt since the election; music was the one place where she still felt in control, where she could channel her emotions into something that mattered. She knew Jack would be there waiting for her, ready to turn their shared frustrations and fears into songs.
As she approached the studio entrance, Taylor felt a presence behind her. Before she could react, a man appeared, grabbing her and throwing her to the ground. She gasped, her vision blurring as pain shot through her body. He ripped her bottoms off of her. She felt something enter her. She barely registered the man shouting something hateful before he disappeared into the street, leaving her alone and injured on the concrete.
Time seemed to slow down. She tried to push herself up, but her strength was failing. All she could think about was getting inside, finding help, but her body wouldn't cooperate. Then, everything went black.
When Jack found her, her hoodie was yanked up and was exposing her breasts and he noticed she wasn't wearing pants either.
"Jack..." she whispered, wincing as she tried to move. The pain was excruciating, and she knew she needed medical attention.
"We're going to the hospital," he said, his tone firm as he wrapped her in a blanket and helped her into his car, refusing to let her protest. She couldn't even think straight, the shock and pain clouding her mind as they pulled into the ER parking lot.
Inside, Jack explained what had happened, but the staff exchanged looks before turning them away. The sight of Taylor, bruised and injured, begging for help, seemed surreal, and yet they denied her. She could hear fragments of their conversations, cold words echoing in her mind. She was being refused care. They wouldn't help her.
Jack tried to argue, his voice rising, but Taylor gently tugged on his sleeve, her face streaked with tears. She couldn't bear to be here any longer, humiliated, broken, and abandoned by a system that was supposed to protect her. "Please... just take me home."
Jack drove her back to her house, barely able to contain his anger and frustration. She stumbled out of the car, her body aching as she made her way inside. She didn't want to leave a trail of blood or mess for anyone else to see, so she dragged herself toward the bathroom, collapsing into the tub. The cold porcelain against her skin was jarring, but it was the only place she felt safe to let go.
