Are We Out Of The Woods Yet?(A Taylor Swift Adoption Story)

on a saturday night

Amara's POV:
Why did I have to pick the top floor? Stupid Amara... Stupid. I keep scanning the room looking for an escape but see none other than the window, and it's too high to jump.

It's not like I'd be able to get away anyways. My hand is firmly locked in the blonde lady's grip and she doesn't look like she's going to let go anytime soon.

Taylor's POV:
I turn to the men and my security team:

" She is not going anywhere until I know exactly what's going on"

Their response is immediate.. Realizing that I mean what I'm saying the  agents click open their phones and tell me that their supervisor is headed on the way along with a medical team. I nearly flip out before they inform me they have the legal permission to do so. I glance at my security and they give me a small nod, agreeing with the men.

What even? Why a medical team?! And where the heck is Adam? Keeping one hand firmly around the little girl, I send texts of my own out to my lawyer, and Tree, my publicist. The responses from both of them are immediate. Tree will try to handle anything coming out from the press tonight, and my lawyer informs me that because of the homeland security act they have full permission to call the medical team and set up this operation.

Glumly I put my phone away and turn my attention to the agents.

Amara's POV:
I'm racking my brain and trying to figure out what's going on. I rub at the burn mark on my left wrist and try to think.

What did my dad do this time??

Even in Syria he would get in trouble for hacking into people's laptops.. He did it for fun, and he never stole anything so I don't see what all the fuss is about.

All this chaos is making me think of the kidnapping in Syria. This burn mark was from Syria, when a group of men snuck into our house in the middle of the night and kidnapped me.. I can't go into what happened without breaking down, but one thing they did was imprint me with a burn mark to be able to track me down (if I ever escaped).

People don't do that in America from what I've been told. At least I hope not.

Does this constitute as kidnapping?

Going back to the burn mark story, I  did finally escape, thank goodness, and my family moved. I turn my attention back to the pandemonium going on and look around in a daze. When I look up, I don't see the blonde lady anymore, and instead, a lady in a white coat is coming towards me with a white box in her hand.

AFSDJDKF?! I scream as much as I can, and while I try to pull my sleeve over the mark she sadly ends up seeing it and because everyone, literally everyone is holding me down I can't wriggle away.

I try to run but everyone's grip is much too strong. I'm led/ carried into a white tent ensemble where various people introduce themselves as doctors. I don't want any of this, but I'm too weak to fight. They examine every inch of me carefully and quickly before telling me that they're going to use antiseptic on my bruises. That's all I can remember before I black out.

Taylor's POV:
A lady who introduces herself as Bea escorts me away from the scene and into my kitchen. As soon as we get there, I direct her to the kitchen table and we both take a seat before she starts speaking in a hushed tone.

All I can do is sit back and listen as she trys to tell me exactly what's going on. Bea tells me that her name is Amara and that they believe she is 6.

She is a refugee from Syria and her biological father has been charged with espionage.

She goes on and on but all I can think about is that scared six year old on the opposite end of the room. How is she? Does she know what's going on?

When I finally snap back into the conversation the supervisor explains that Amara's father is in custody for the presumed selling of her to overlords and explains about her current health and living conditions in New York.

She describes a battered down apartment towards the end of the city and pulls up multiple photos. Those apartments have long been abandoned by the city, and therefore are in the  worst condition possible; Heck they aren't even safe!! Because of the way they've been kept, they're virtually uninhabitable.

I'm sick to my stomach.. That poor poor thing.. After about an hour the CIA Doctors have examined her, and an hour after that they decide to give her a lie-detector examination to see what she knows....and they want me to be present.

I see an agent retrieve her from the white tent that's been set up in the corner of my apartment, and watch as they carry her to the living room where I see a group of people setting up the machine. As they get closer, I see that she's struggling and screaming. I can't do this. They finally set her down and I get a good look at her. She's pale and trembling. The look in her eyes reminds me of that of a caged animal.

The agents inform us that the test is ready and they literally have to drag her to the machine. I feel like I'm going to throw up.

Amara's POV:
People are asking questions left and right and I'm trying to answer them as vaguely as possible. As for what they're doing to me, I'm too tired to fight.

When the poking and prodding stops, someone comes in and vaguely explains it out to me. My dad is a bad man, the CIA needs me to cooperate.. Lie detector, Syria,Syria,Syria. My dad is not cruel, and as I try to tell them, they just look at me in pity.

Suddenly I'm whisked away to the sitting room of this apartment. I'm panicking and screaming, but the man doesn't put me down. Taylor, as I heard other people call her looks panicked as well and despite the chaos I feel bad for basically ruining her night.

They ask me to sit down next to the machine and I do.

It's like all the whirlwind and voices stop at once.

The apartment becomes quiet for the first time since I got here and before I know it, another lady with a stethoscope in white starts attaching wires to my arm and I'm forced to listen as they explain that they are going to ask me questions and they want to know the truth.

I want to scream, I want to run, but I physically can't... I'm trapped... I have no choice but to nod my head and do what they tell me to.