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

2:15am on a saturday night

Taylor's POV:
They hook her up to the lie detecting machine and explain to me that the wires will track her pulse and let them know if she's lying or not. I settle down on the floor and look around.. There are so many people here. Honestly, I'm beyond pissed that the government has the authority to barge into my apartment and set up this operation. She's probably scared out of her little mind.

My thoughts are interrupted as the test starts.

The first question they ask her is if she knows who I am and when she shakes her head no, I don't believe her,but the machine declares that it's the truth. I'm shocked!! I guess my music doesn't reach Syria...

They continue asking questions until 3 am.. All the answers she gives turn out to be the truth. From her answers I realize how terrible her life has been up to this point. When they ask about the burn mark on her wrist, it takes her 10 minutes to stop crying and choke out what happened. This feels like something out of Law and Order, not real life. When the CIA sees that she really isn't a threat they pack up and tell her me that they're going to enter her into the system,(a/n an orphanage)and they nonchalantly make their way to the foyer. After that, they vigorously shake my hand and thank me for allowing them to use my home.

Well I really didn't have much of a choice did I? I gaze at her terrified green eyes and know what I'm going to do.. No freaking way am I going to allow them to take her to an orphanage right now. I speak up, the anger in my voice scaring even me:

"If I get any say in the matter, then she is staying here. At least for tonight.. If you have problems please direct them to my lawyer".

The agents look shocked and I stare each and every one of them down. After continuously advising me against doing so for about 10 minutes, They finally agree to let me keep her for the night, although they still insist on notifying the orphanage. I clear everyone out of my apartment and then turn to face Amara. She's trembling rooted to the spot, but she maintains her fierce face and upright composure until every last agent files out. Then she quite literally breaks down in front of me and collapses on the floor. This night was terrible to experience for me.. Imagine how it must feel to a six year old?

Amara's POV:
One thing you can't help but say about the CIA is that they are fast. The past two hours were a whirlwind and along with being tired, I'm emotionally exhausted.

I've just relieved every terrible moment in Syria and was forced to explain it out partially to an entire crowd.. I thought fast during the questions and only told them the base of what happened, not the entire story, and thankfully they didn't call me out on it.

The real full stories? They're much too painful.

I look up at Taylor. She looks so stressed out.. This is all my fault... I should've faced Ahmed at the apartment. Where do I go from here? What do I do? Everything I've ever known in the short period I've been in NY has just been ripped from me. I didn't understand much of the conversation Taylor and the agent just had, but I know that I'm under the care of Taylor for tonight. I get up off the floor and we both just look at each other, blue eyes against green. She looks like she's about to say something, but I can't talk right now.. It's like my ability to speak has been taken away. Turning away, I run up the stairs.