save me - taylor swift

8

She had to do it. There was no backing out now. If she hesitated any longer, she would lose her only chance.

Ruby exhaled slowly, then moved forward.

One step.

Two.

She reached the edge of the bed.

Her hands moved before she could talk herself out of it.

Fingers wrapped around Taylor's throat, pressing down.

Taylor's body jerked awake instantly. A strangled gasp escaped her lips as her hands flew up, trying to pry Ruby's grip from her neck. Her nails scratched at Ruby's skin, sharp and desperate, leaving burning trails down her wrists.

Ruby winced but didn't loosen her hold.

Taylor struggled beneath her, her body twisting as she tried to kick her attacker off, but Ruby was stronger. She pressed harder.

And then—

"Ruby—!"

It wasn't a scream. It wasn't even a cry for help. It was a plea.

Taylor was calling for her.

Not for Travis.

Not for security.

For her.

Ruby's stomach twisted violently.

Her pulse pounded so hard she swore Taylor could feel it through her fingertips.

She tried to shake it off. She needed to focus. A few more seconds and it would be over. A few more seconds and she could walk away.

-

Taylor's vision blurred, her body weakening as the oxygen drained from her lungs. Her fingers trembled, her strength fading, but she refused to stop fighting. Her nails dug desperately into the attacker's gloved hands, struggling to pry them away from her throat. Every second felt longer than the last, her limbs growing heavier, her mind slipping further into the haze of suffocation.

But then—something shifted.

The person's hat slipped backward slightly, just enough for the dim glow of the moonlight to catch their eyes.

Hazel.

Taylor barely had time to register it, but something deep inside her screamed that she had seen those eyes before. Familiar. Too familiar. But her brain, starved of air, couldn't connect the pieces. All she could do was hold on, fighting against the darkness threatening to pull her under.

Then, through the ringing in her ears, she heard it—Travis's voice.

He was coming upstairs, his voice sharp as he spoke into his phone, likely complaining about something, as he always did.

For the first time, Taylor felt grateful for him.

The person above her stiffened.

"Shit," they muttered under their breath, the curse muffled, distorted.

Taylor strained to hear, to recognize the voice, but her mind was too sluggish, her ears too foggy from lack of air. The hands around her throat hesitated for just a moment—just long enough for the footsteps to grow closer.

And then, just like that, the grip vanished.

Taylor's body convulsed as she sucked in a desperate breath, her lungs burning as air rushed back in. She barely had time to process before she heard the rustling of fabric, the shift of weight, the sound of feet hitting the floor as the attacker bolted toward the window.