One Chance: a Ted Sweeran fanfic

Ch 6

Taylor's POV

I woke up in the back of a car with no idea where I was. Fortunately for me, I wasn't in a horror movie where the chauffer turns out to be a possessed doll, instead I was sitting right next to Cara in the Styles' limo with a blanket wrapped around me.

"Hello sleepy head, I hope you feel better after that nap," Cara looked at me as if trying to discern how I was feeling. Then it hit me. The safe haven sleep had provided me from the monster that was reality was gone, and stress poured into me, threatening to choke if not subdued.

Sometimes, though, that drowning must be kept to yourself, so I simply shrugged and told her I was fine, even though I suspected she could see right through me.

Even if she could, she continued on with conversation as if she didn't, and instead started talking about the latest recipes she had begun to test out, which I appreciated. Cara had found a hobby in cooking, said that it helped her with the stress, but apparently Harry ate most of it before she could her hands on it so she still had no idea how great of a chef she really was. She was in the middle of explaining what a terrible blunder she made with a French cheese dip when the driver hit a bump and sent the car vibrating on impact.

The driver pulled back the divider separating us and asked, "Are you girls okay? I must have hit something, I'll go check out the damage-are you all right ma'am?" I hadn't realized the driver was still talking. I was too busy hyperventilating and trying to hold in my sobs as the memories came rushing back. It was a mistake, all such a big mistake. I could have sworn Ed was in the limo, I had been too desperate to get away from the paparazzi and whoever had handed me that note that I hadn't even realized that Ed wasn't in the car when I screamed at my driver to hit the gas. I had caught him off guard and he had hit the gas suddenly-and Ed.

That moment had been replayed in my head, over and over, like a never ending showing of the same horror movie that was my life. The thump as the car hit my husband, his shattered breathing echoing my heart as I realized what I had done.

I had read somewhere that when someone loses a limb, like an arm or a leg, they sometimes have these phantom occurrences in which they swear they can feel that body part as surely as they had before they had lost it. That was how it had been since the accident. I would be home making dinner when I could have sworn Ed was hugging me and softly kissing my neck, I could feel his presence next to me so strongly at some points that I had been scared he had died and was there in spirit. Losing Ed was like losing a limb, except with limbs you can always get a prosthetic and return to normal function. Without Ed holding me and keeping me warm at night, I would never be able to function normally again.

As I slowly was pulled out of my nightmare and back to reality, I wondered if things would only get better now that Ed was awake. If only I could have shaken  my sense of foreboding telling me the fragile seams holding my delicate world in place had yet to burst.