Blank Space

2

Woolworth Mansion is eerily quiet tonight. A woman stands on the balcony overlooking the lake, with a long silver evening gown draped over her shoulders. She holds a handkerchief to her cheek, should the occasional tear slip from her eyes. How could this have happened? It was less than 24 hours ago that she and her fiancé were seated at the dining table discussing their wedding plans over a glass of rosé. Yet now, on this cold November night, she weeps alone on the balcony, pining away for the comfort of her lover's arms.

"Miss Swift?" a young man's voice calls from behind her.

Taylor Swift turns from the balcony to her butler, loyally standing by to serve her in his black suit and tie.

"Do you need anything?" he asks innocently. "A shawl, perhaps? A glass of brandy?"

"That would be perfect, Mendes." Taylor smiles weakly. "Though I think right now I need to be alone."

"I understand, Miss Swift." Mendes nods. "You must miss him terribly."

"I do." she sighs with a sob. "I may go and pay him a visit shortly. Is the spot covered?"

"Yes, Miss Swift. Would you like me to take you to him?"

"Yes, Mendes, that would be wonderful."

"I shall fetch the Chrysler right away."

The butler disappears down the hallway, closing the door gently behind him. Taylor watches him go with a sigh. She was incredibly fortunate to have such a doting footman, always on hand in her hour of need. Mendes was a reliable companion...but nothing more. It was a mutual understanding, and the two complemented each other perfectly.

Taylor steps into the black Chrysler wearing a thick midnight-blue fur coat. Mendes closes the door and whisks her away into the night. They head upstate, away from the mansion and into the hills. The roads are shrouded in mist as the car winds through the countryside. Eventually, it halts at a pair of iron gates. Taylor steps out, her heel crunching on the gravel as she wraps her fur tighter around her shivering shoulders.

"This way, Miss Swift." Mendes directs her beyond the gates.

They find themselves walking through a cemetery, with marble tombstones looming each side of the path. The trees cast creeping shadows over them as they wander arm in arm. They pause at an inconspicuous mound of earth.

"Right here." Mendes declares. "Would you like me to leave you alone for a little while, Miss Swift?"

"Thank you, Mendes." Taylor nods and crouches beneath the trees to examine the earth. "Oh Noah...I never meant for you to end up here...all alone. But don't worry; I'm here now. Next time, I'll bring you flowers. You can have a proper gravestone...I'll make sure of it."

She strokes the soil solemnly with her soft varnished nails before rising to her feet. Mendes is waiting for her at the end of the path, hidden in the shadows of the trees. Taylor strides over to meet him with a tear-stained cheek.

"When I find out the one responsible for this mess...she's gonna pay."

She marches angrily back to the Chrysler, her heels kicking the dirt behind her. Mendes chases after her and the two make their covert journey back to Woolworth Mansion.

***

It's almost 2AM. Sean is wide awake in his apartment; his laptop on his sofa and the TV producing white noise in the background. In his hand, he knocks back another can of beer as he trawls through article after article online, concerning only one subject: the enigma of Taylor Swift.

His first port of call was to investigate the alleged arson of Justin Sandy's house and the circumstances surrounding it. Sandy and Swift had been dating for a significantly short period of time when Sandy decided to call it off. At first, Swift showed no sign of reaction, and retreated out of the limelight for a few months. Then on February 3rd 2008, Justin came back from a cinema trip with his new girlfriend to find his home replaced with a blazing inferno.

The only surviving piece of evidence from the crime scene was a slightly scorched photograph of Sandy and Swift during their brief relationship. Swift denied any links to the event and was reportedly 'horrified' and 'shocked' at what had happened to Sandy's property. Sandy insisted that Swift was the one responsible until around August, when he spontaneously withdrew the accusations and retreated into silence, sparking speculations that Swift had used blackmail or threats.

Then, there was the case of Stephen Colletti and his ex-girlfriend. Colletti was supposedly still in contact with his ex-girlfriend during his relationship with Swift in late 2008. Rumours spread that Swift discovered a number of flirtatious text exchanges between the two and broke off the relationship, despite Colletti's attempts to win her back.

Then, on December 7th, Colletti's ex-girlfriend mysteriously fell backwards down a flight of stairs in her home. There were no witnesses to the event except for the victim herself, who claimed that Swift appeared at the top of the staircase and kicked her. Swift once again denied the allegations and dismissed the claims as 'the mad rants of a victim plagued by amnesia'.

In the subsequent years after these scandalous stories, there were various whispers of men drifting in and out of Swift's life, never to be heard of again. However, none of these stories held any substantial evidence, and were quickly dismissed. Noah Mills seemed to be just one in a long list of ex-lovers to vanish into thin air.

Sean closes his laptop as his eyes are on the verge of surrendering to sleep. He collects his cans of beer and switches the TV off. Karlie was wrong: there was no story to Taylor Swift's love life. In the morning, he would discover the fate of his job. Should he face redundancy, he may be unable to afford the rent. Where did that leave him? Out of New York, that's for sure.

He departs to bed and undresses out of his work attire down to his underwear. Sean switches off the light and goes to draw the curtains when he spots a silhouette standing directly opposite his apartment. A pair of jet black shades stare blankly at him from across the street: a figure in a long black trench coat and a black fedora. Sean stares the stranger out for a moment before sealing the curtains shut. He rolls into bed and pulls the duvet over him, spooked.