✧ * 𝐒 𝐚 𝐟 𝐞 𝐚 𝐧 𝐝 𝐒 𝐨 𝐮 𝐧 𝐝 *✧

𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝

The man, who appeared to be at least 40 years old or older, violently tears my skirt off, leaving me exposed in just my underwear. Despite my frantic screams for him to stop, he callously disregards my pleas.

 "Shh, little girl," he coldly commands. Desperation wells up within me as I cry out Taylor's name, hoping against hope for some semblance of rescue. The sound of his cruel words echoes in my ears as he mocks my attempts to be heard. Trembling with fear, his hands invade the most private parts of my being. No matter how hard I struggle and push back, I am overpowered by a horrifying sensation that sends waves of shock coursing through me. The sheer terror is suffocating — all I crave is to be safe in Taylor's embrace, not enduring this violation. Why me? The question repeats in my mind as he forcibly removes the last shreds of my clothes. The comparison between Taylor's tender care and this blatant assault is stark; Taylor always seeks my consent, with gentleness to ensure my comfort. In contrast, this man shows no regard, callously and abruptly ripping my garments off without a second thought. Stopstopstopstopstop! I plead desperately, the word falling from my lips. 

Taylors POV:

As I reach the part in the performance where I sing 22, I scan the area, searching for any sign of my security team guiding Rain to me on stage. Earlier, I had specifically mentioned to my mother about wanting Rain to receive the 22 hat. Despite my efforts to locate Rain during the song, she is nowhere to be seen. It strikes me as unusual because typically, the people that I chose would be at the end of the stage y now, dancing and screaming my lyrics. I meet my mother's gaze, and through her silent words, she mouths to me

"We can't find her!"  At that moment, my heart sinks with worry. Questions flood my mind – where could she have gone? Rain is unfamiliar with the layout of the stadium; perhaps she wandered off to use the restroom?

Rains pov:

As the man's assault continued, his touches violated my most intimate boundaries. Stripped of my clothes and dignity, I found myself trapped in a room with a terrifying figure. I should have been – outside, surrounded by fellow Swifties and Taylor. My cries and screams echoed in desperation, each plea for him to stop his actions growing more frantic. Collapsing to the ground, his weight pressing me down as he began to strip his own pants, sent a shiver of dread down my spine. 

"No, no, no..." I begged internally, consumed by the agony of the moment, wishing for an end to the torment. I was just 13, how could this be happening? Eventually, the violation became a horrific reality as he forced himself upon me. The unbearable pain and disbelief clouded my senses, leaving me shattered and broken. 

He presses into me, making me scream repeatedly with excruciating pain until it feels like the sound is all I can make. Despite my efforts, he continues to push and overpower me until he finally collapses on top of my fragile form. Desperation sets in as I kick and shove, trying to rid myself of his weight, yet he remains relentless in his hold over me. The agony intensifies as I feel strands of my hair being mercilessly torn out in the struggle. Through my tear-blurred vision, I spot the remnants of my clothes strewn in a forgotten corner of the room, a cruel reminder of the normalcy that once existed. The overwhelming sense of helplessness washes over me as I plead silently for the torment to stop, for the nightmare to end. He shows no mercy, his actions growing more forceful with each passing moment. Going harder. Harderharderharder. Driving me to the brink of despair. I cannot take this suffering any longer. Just as the words form in my mind, signaling my breaking point, a consuming darkness consumes me, enveloping me entirely as I surrender to unconsciousness. In that moment, the world fades away, and I am lost. Gone.

Andrea's POV:

"I don't care about that! Where is Rain!" I shout out, the urgency in my tone cutting through the chaotic buzz of 70,000 people filling the stadium. Taylor's security team has been rallied, every available guard now diligently searching every nook and cranny for Rain. It feels futile in the sea of faces, but we can't give up. Regret gnaws at me - we should never have left her alone on the floor. There must have been someone by her side. My mind races with questions. Did she wander off? Was she lured away? Panic grips me as I remember the moment she vanished. During 'Enchanted,' she was there, and then, in an instant, she wasn't.