I Know Places We Can Hide (Kaylor FanFic)

The Letter

Dear Taylor,

First of all. I am so incredibly sorry that you saw what you did.

It shouldn't have happened like that...

You see, I wanted to tell you about... it. But it wasn't exactly diner conversation and I could never find the right time.

I guess it could be seen as a good thing to have happened. I never could work up the courage.

I know that you'll think that you played some part in this happening. But please don't. You need to know that in no way could you have prevented it. There's nothing that you could have noticed or found out from my behaviour or anything. I've gotten good at hiding it.

I'm too good at lying about it. I've had practice - nearly tens years of practice.

I don't think I could live with myself if I knew that you were walking around blaming yourself.

I know you will at first, but don't let it last too long.

I need you to believe me when I say that it is in no way your fault. And no matter how much you blame yourself, it's not going to change what has happened.

So... I guess I should tell you why we are in this situation.

Where to begin?

To begin with, it was the usual self-consciousness and worry that most young teens have.

I would worry if I ate too much bad stuff, but not obsessively.

Then things started to change in my life. I lost my friends and my family split up.

I had gotten so used to being alone, it didn't shock me at first when my friends stopped being my friends. And then one day I felt it and I thought - how can these people go from meaning so much and being there, to turning their backs on me.

I realised I was happy to be alone because I always had the consolation that my friends would be there when I needed company. Until they weren't.

Then it really began.

They called me names, spread rumours, messed with my stuff - all the usual crap that teens cop. It was nothing particularly unique or horrible. But for some intangible reason, I could not handle it.

As well as this, another totally normal thing was happening - my body was changing.

Every other girl my age was experiencing these things as I was. I mean, I can't speak for all of them in saying their parents fought and their family split, but everything - sure.

My body was something else that I was losing control of. It's not like I was even getting fat or anything bad. But it felt as if I was. I felt like I was getting bigger as I stared at myself in the mirror.

My parents had been fighting for what felt like ever and there was always someone not talking to someone and the yelling... It never stopped.

So I started to spend more time away from home. I would do anything I could to be out of that house and away from the noise and fighting. I would go to the library, or the park, or a cafe. Anywhere but home. And I would enjoy the peace.

I could read and do my homework or just sit and think - all the things that I couldn't do at home.

I knew that when I returned home, someone would be waiting to tell me off and the yelling would begin again - if it had even stopped that was.

One day, I came home just before dinner time after being at the library.

I knew that they'd be angry. I was generally punctual, but I was starting to enjoy the quiet so much that I didn't want to leave it.

My parents weren't happy with that.

I walked in the front door and walked to the stairs as usual. I was going up to my room to put my books away and then I'd come down for dinner.

I made it up four stairs before my father grabbed me and ripped me back down the stairs.

I just covered my head and held tight.

I skipped dinner, too ashamed to face them after I'd made them angry and started the fighting again. (It really only would have been a matter of time before it began itself).

My mother came in to see me that night. She was just as displeased.

A lot happened that night, and by the end of it, I had four broken ribs, a broken nose, a sprained ankle and an inch long gash on my cheek.

I had to make up lies at school. Not that anyone asked. I had no friends to worry about me. A few teachers asked. I generally went with the same story that my parents fed everyone - I fell down the stairs.

The looks that people gave me were the worst. I felt more ashamed than I usually do.

And lies like that had to be made for a long time afterward. Because that was only the beginning.

I mean. It wasn't as bad as that time. It was just bruises and scratches.

I had no control over what was happening. And that scared me.

But I needed control of something in my life. And my body was the thing that I could control. What I ate and how often were things that no one else had control over. So that control could never be taken away.

This all started when I was thirteen.

It's a really long time, but it has fluctuated with how bad it is and how often I do... things.

Just please Taylor, all I want is for you to not blame yourself. Don't worry for more time than necessary. No stupid questions like 'what if I noticed this..?' Or 'I could have done this...'

There is nothing that you or anyone else could have done once it started.

And it's not your responsibility. The people who have that responsibility didn't do anything and that's what made me think it was okay.

Because the people that were meant to care for me never noticed, and if they did, they never did anything about it.

I am eternally sorry that you found out this way - or found out at all.

I would have liked to have told you myself. Truly.

I'm sorry, Taylor.

I love you,

Karlie xx 💋❤️