Taylor Swift - Mother Imagines (GxG+P)

10.1 | But Now

Tw - sensitive for self - harm and suicide attempt.

Taylor was sitting across from Tree, bored out of her mind in her eighth meeting of the day. At this point, she was playing with her hair, drawing with her pen and imagining her team dress up as Gossip Girl characters.
Suddenly, her stomach rumbles. She's hungry, hasn't eaten in approximately seven hours. As she feels the netting drawing to a close, she thanks everyone present, and picks up her phone, dialing her daughter, Blair.

Weirdly enough, Blair doesn't pick up the phone. Taylor then decides to text her.

"Hey, Baby Girl. What'd you want for dinner? I'll be home in a few :) I love you!"

Poor Taylor. If only she knew that right at the moment she was typing this text, her daughter was fighting for her life.

It had been a few hours since Blair had taken the life-ending decision. The pills, however, didn't put her to eternal sleep, like wished. They messed with her body, her senses. She couldn't move; she felt like she was drowning. It also sharpened the pain she was feeling. She wanted to scream, she just couldn't open her mouth. Unresponsive, but alive and awake. Dizziness, chest press and pain. Her controlled vitals signs were long gone by now. Blair was sure that if she was gonna die, it wouldn't be in the painless way she'd imagined. This was the end. And, for her, all the pain she felt was deserved.

Blair was shivering, crying, but she made no sound. When she did, at best, hiccups. She could listen to everything, just couldn't respond to it. It was actually frightening, being trapped into herself. Not far long, she could hear the door of her room being scratched by two little but different paws. It was at least comforting to know that her cat's sounds were gonna be the last thing she'd heard before leaving her body. Well, of course, two out of three beloved cats, she was pretty much sure Olivia wasn't there - for some reason, Olivia didn't like Blair's hair, because she wasn't allowed to play with it, which really set her off. Already drifting off to eternal sleep, now as hoped, she heard one other faded sound, she couldn't recognize, afterall she was agonizing and succumbing onto her own sadness, the last bit of it. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes,  the world seemed to stop; she couldn't hear anything else. If she could, she would've heard Taylor arriving home, looking for her. Which, she didn't. Only when she felt her heart slowing down its heartbeat, did she start  having a seizure. But she couldn't do anything about it. She was shaking, her body was trembling and she kept crying. Banging her head on the headboard, Blair knew it was drawing to a close.

A loud noise could be heard from upstairs, and Taylor was scared. Where was her baby girl, and had someone broken in??

She started running towards where she located the noise. Blair 's room.

"Oh, my God!" Taylor screamed. "Blair, are you okay!?!" Taylor knocked on the door.

No response.

"Blair??" She screamed, again. "Baby, if you don't answer, I'm gonna have to open this door without your consent." Taylor heard nothing. "Honey, get away from the door, please!" She said, knocking it down only a few moments later, only to find Blair, her little girl, shaking and rolling her eyes uncontrollably."Oh, my fucking  god, Blair!" Taylor screamed, kneeling next to her almost lifeless child. "Blair, babygirl, talk to me" Taylor pleaded. "Babygirl, please!" Taylor cried, picking up her phone to call for help. "Please pick up, please!"

"911, what's your emergency?"

"It's my daughter! She's ... she's having a seizure.. I..I have no idea why! I wasn't home!" Taylor frankly didn't, and started rumbling and blabbing.

"Okay, Miss. Calm down please. Can you tell me your address?"

"Yes, it's.. it's Barium Street, 274, New York." She hurried.

"Okay, they're already on their way. Can you tell me your daughter's name and age?"

"Blair. Blair Hope. She's sixteen. She's barely sixteen. Her birthday was a week ago." Taylor muttered.

"And what about you?"

"I'm Taylor." She answered.

"Alright, Taylor. You're doing so well. Do you have any idea what might have happened, and has it ever happened before?"

"No, but... I think she...might have attempted against her own life. She's bleeding a lot and I see some pills...fuck!" Taylor screamed

"Which pills, Taylor?"

"Diazepam. For anxiety" Taylor continued "And some Vyvanse as well"

"How many pills, Taylor?" The operator asked, concern laced within her voice.

"A handful. I bought both like two days ago, I hadn't opened it yet and they're basically all gone now."  She wailed "This is my fault!"

"Taylor, please concentrate. Can you let the paramedics in, please?"

"No, I can't leave my Babygirl on her own!"

"I'm gonna need you in a few minutes." She said.

Taylor screamed. "Minutes? How long until they get here?"

"Something around five minutes, around that:"

Her white dying grip on her child made her notice the lack of respiratory action. Taylor started to panic.

"I don't think she has five minutes, I can't feel her pulse." Taylor sobbed

"Taylor, I'm gonna need your help right now." she began, "Have you ever done CPR? If yes, I need you to start it on Blair. Apply pressure on her chest, pulsing up and down. At least one hundred pulses per minute." Taylor was doing as said, obviously following the operator's instructions. "Have you ever heard the song 'Love Story', by Taylor Swift?" Taylor could only laugh at the irony.

"Yeah. A lot."

"Greta. Sing it in your head while you do it. It has around 104 BPM, it's gonna help you save your daughter, yes?!" Taylor nodded, though the attendant couldn't see.

Of course. The story behind Love Story was quite funny. She had a fight with her parents about the guy she was dating, who turned out to be Blair's father. Her parents didn't like him one bit, and that made her storm out of her room, really mad. Twenty minutes later, she had a song and she was in Labour. Blair was conceived as in a cryptic pregnancy, and Taylor didn't know she was pregnant. She wrote this song a few minutes before Blair's birth.  How well do ending and begging cycles close up?