fix you; swift and styles [au]

five; taylor

It's just after midnight when Harry decides we should probably get going. Suddenly, my body fills with something along the lines of grief. I would by lying if I said I didn't enjoy the time I was with Harry. We'd exchanged numbers on broken pieces of a napkin. Just in case, Harry had said. And now I'd be going home with nothing but an empty void in my heart. But then again, that never went away.

"Thanks again for the coffee," I say, smiling slightly at Harry. He smiles back, his eyes brightly shinning as well.

"It's no big deal," he responds. "I actually had a good time. We should get together sometime."

"Okay," I say sighing, my breath coming out in smoke-like puffs. "I guess I'll see you around, superstar."

It's almost one o'clock in the morning when I arrive at home. I take my coat off setting it on the coat rack.

"Ed?" I call out. There is no answer. I look around the house, finding nothing. Panic begins to flow through my veins. I'm destined to have a nightmare tonight and it's hard trying to get through the aftermath alone. I calmly whisper to myself to breathe, telling myself he isn't always going to there and I'm going to have to live with it.

In and out, in and out, in and out...

I walk to my room upstairs, my breathing coming close to normal, and change out of my clothes and into something suitable to sleep in. Although, I doubt I would ever find a tranquil rest.

I sit in my bed, my headphones in lodged into my ears. My eyes close, but I quickly open them up; fear of a nightmare keeping me from sleeping. I snap my head to my nightstand where my nagging clock reads 5:30 a.m.

"Shit," I whisper, setting my head onto my pillow. This pillow must have suddenly turned into a cloud because it has never felt more comfortable. I finally allow myself to shut my eyes, and then black.

Crying is all I hear. The horrific crying progressively getting louder. I find myself sitting in a corner of a small apartment. Clothes litter the floor, the bed is unmade, liquor bottles are smashed into tiny bits of glass, and blue and red lights seep through ripped curtains.

Sobs come from my lips and I cover myself in the hoodie I wear. "Please, please don't..." I cry out to the dark figure above me. My eyes suddenly directed to my hands, which were covered in a liquid substance I immediately assume is blood. A throbbing from my head began to hit me like a tidal wave.

"I am done with you," the voice growls. His hand raises but then there's a pounding on the door, then a gun shot. I feel a pain in my left shoulder, an intense pain I have never felt before. A scream that could be heard from the other side of the world comes from my mouth. My attacker is tackled and put in cuffs. Paramedics surround me and police men. Words are slurred together, images become blurry, and then nothing.

//

"How are you?" Dr. Wood asks. Of course she already knew the answer, but it was practically required for her to ask.

"Fine," I always respond the same way. Dr. Wood knows otherwise.

"Taylor, please stop this charade," she sighs. "Be truthful."

"I feel the same as I always do. Empty." She sighs and scribbles something on her notepad.

"Are you taking your medication?" She says, peering at me through her glasses. I nod in response. "Your nightmares?"

"Frequent and keep me from sleeping," I say quite annoyed with myself. I'm tired, physically and emotionally. I'm tired of having these vivid dreams, tired of the crying, and most of all the pain.

Dr. Wood rubs her forehead, her eyes shut. "I want to help you Taylor," she says. "But how am I supposed to help you if you cannot help yourself? We have gone through the treatments and the thearpy and nothing seems to work."

"I'm sorry." I respond, tears brim my eyes. "I really want to get better, I do."

"I believe you, I do. However..." I block her words out; not listening to the things she's feeding me. I'm a lost cause. I have a disorder that I want to beat, but cannot. I feel guilty about pitying myself. There are people dying of Cancer and lack of food and water, but here I am moaning and groaning about my dumb nightmares.

"Everyone has problems, Taylor. Your's are not insignificant simply just because others have struggles as well. I don't have privacy from the press. That's my problem. Just because you're going through another thing means my problems don't matter? Nope, mine and your problems still matter." Harry's words replay in my mind. He didn't even know what my problem was, he just knew mine mattered.

"...Okay, Taylor?" Dr. Wood questions. I just nod my head, collect my things, and walk out of Dr. Wood's office.

author's note: super short chapter but heyo it's still a chapter
i apologize for not updating :(
but school is stressing me out!! however i am trying my best. if you look up nightmare disorder, by the way, most of the nightmares contain the person having them to be i danger or have their life put at risk. this is just a bit of heads up in case so yup...
december is currently on hold until i find my inspiration again okay
love you guys very much
xxxox