Run (a Taylor Swift Story)

11- Sleep

As the minutes passed, the weight of the room seemed to press in on them both. Carrie’s thoughts churned in the dark, but the exhaustion of everything—the emotional toll of Taylor’s suffering, the physical pain of the chains, the fear for what was to come—finally began to take its toll. Her eyelids grew heavy, her body aching from the long hours of tension and strain.

But she couldn’t let herself slip into sleep. Not when Taylor was still so far away, trapped in her own sorrow.

Carrie’s eyes fluttered open, and she glanced over at Taylor, her heart twisting at the sight. The girl’s body was still curled tightly, her breathing uneven and shallow, but there was a subtle shift in her posture. She seemed less tense, less tightly wound. Slowly, Carrie reached out again, her hand moving cautiously toward Taylor’s trembling form.

The touch was a whisper, a tentative gesture, but it was enough. This time, Taylor didn’t flinch. Instead, she let out a quiet sigh, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly beneath Carrie’s touch. Carrie’s chest tightened, a mixture of relief and sorrow flooding through her.

Carrie kept her hand where it was, not daring to move it. She wasn’t sure if Taylor was ready for more, but this simple contact—this small connection—felt like a lifeline. And so, they sat there in the silence, two broken souls bound together by pain, but still clinging to the smallest bit of hope.

Eventually, the hours passed into a quiet, muted rhythm, the steady, slow ebb of time. Carrie’s eyes fluttered again, the weight of exhaustion too much to ignore. Her mind, which had been spinning with plans and desperate thoughts, began to dull, the edges of her awareness blurring.

Taylor’s breathing had evened out, no longer ragged or broken. It was a small sign, but Carrie held onto it with everything she had. As her own exhaustion crept up on her, she found herself leaning against the cold stone wall once more, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little.

The pain of the chains, the tightness in her wrists, faded into the background as her body gave way to fatigue. She tried to stay awake, but every breath became heavier, her eyelids threatening to close.

It wasn’t long before her head rested against the stone wall, her body slumping just a little. Taylor’s soft, quiet breathing seemed to pull Carrie into a place of fragile calm, as if, by some miracle, they were both finding a little bit of peace in this dark, cold prison.

The moments stretched, slow and steady, until Carrie’s own breathing matched the rhythm of Taylor’s. She hadn’t realized how much she needed rest, how much her body craved the solace of sleep. But the safety of the moment, the feel of her hand still brushing against Taylor’s arm, allowed her to finally let go.

Her mind was a haze of exhaustion as she drifted into sleep, her body curling slightly against the stone, the chains forgotten for the moment. The darkness of the room surrounded them both, but for a fleeting moment, it felt like a safe place. A place where they weren’t alone.

And as sleep claimed Carrie, the faintest trace of warmth filled the air between them. Even in the darkness, even in the pain, they were there. They had each other.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to survive.