Paul Is Dead

Do You Want To Know A Secret?

EMMA'S POV

It was about six in the morning when I got the phone call.

"Emma? It's George. We need you to come down to EMC, and quick." I could hear the panic in his voice.

"George, is everything okay? Is Paul there?" Paul should have gotten home about fifteen minutes ago, and his extended absence had been making me more nervous by the second. I was scared that George's call may of had something to do with it, and unfortunately I was right.

He was silent for a moment, and his voice cracked when he spoke. "There's been an, er, accident." My heart dropped.

"Accident?"

There were muffled voices in the background, and George cleared his throat. "Yes, but I can't discuss it on the phone. You need to get down here, then we'll talk."

I swallowed. "Okay, I'm leaving now. I'll be there as soon as possible."

Grabbing my coat, I made my way outside and quickly got into my car to avoid getting soaked by the rain. I drove deeper and deeper into the morning light as I allowed my worrisome thoughts to drain the sanity out of me. After nearly twenty minutes of driving, I saw a crowd of people staring at something, and I was blinded by the lights of dozens of cars.

I don't know what it was that made me do it, but without even thinking I pulled over and ran over to join the wave of people. As I got closer, I noticed they were all surrounding a car, which was completely totaled. Still smoking, the windshield had been smashed and the entire front end of the vehicle had been bashed in like an accordion. My hands flew up to my mouth as I recognized the car.

An Austin Healey. Paul's Austin Healey, to be exact.

I pushed myself through the crowd, shoving past several people at a time. I earned myself some strange looks and a few rude remarks, but at that point I didn't care. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I arrived to the front of the line, where I found a police officer talking to Brian Epstein, the boys' manager. They seemed to be in the middle of a very serious conversation. When Brian noticed me, he said a few final words to the officer before waving him off, and the man tipped his hat to him as he rushed back to his police cruiser and sped away.

"What is going on here?" I choked, watching Brian talk sweetly to the crowd as he reassured them that everything was okay, he was fine, and that they should all go home. As the road cleared of people, Brian finally turned back to me.

"Get in my car. We're going to the studio, the boys will explain everything to you."

We made the slow and awkward walk to his car in the fresh, damp air. It smelled of that rainy smell that it always did after it rained. It was a dreary November morning.

Which evidently, was only the half of it.

The ride back to the studio was seemingly endless, and I put myself through mental torture the entire way there. That had been Paul's car, hadn't it? I could recognize it anywhere. But Brian had said that "he was okay". Who was he, Paul? And if so, where was he? I had so many questions and none were getting answered.

Upon our arrival to the studio, I jumped out of the car before it had even fully stopped and ran inside to find George, Ringo and John around a table. John was holding his head in his hands, Ringo sat with his head down and George was pacing around. As soon as I entered, they all jumped up. I was a little taken aback at their appearances; they all looked as though they had aged ten years since I last saw them about three days ago.

"Would someone please tell me what happened?" I begged, my voice finally beginning to break. John exchanged a look with George before looking at me with sad and sympathetic eyes. I was shocked to see that they were glassy with tears. He slowly walked over to me and wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug, taking me by surprise. John wasn't exactly the affectionate type, especially towards me. He held me for an uncomfortable amount of time before pulling away and looking at me straight in the eye.

"Emma, there was an accident. Paul never came home this morning because he got into a car crash." 

Even though these were the words I had been expecting to hear all this time, they still hit into me like a brick wall. I desperately searched for my voice.

"But, but I heard Brian say that he was okay, everything was fine..."

I noticed Ringo wipe at his eyes from his seat in the corner, and John looked devastated. 

"Em, a guard rail went right through the windshield of his car. He was completely decapitated. He had no chance."

I had never thought it possible to actually feel your heart break inside of your chest. My Paul was gone? Dead, just like that, all so quickly? 

I'll see you soon. 

That was the last thing he had said to me. If only I had known it was the last conversation I had with him, I would have said so much more. I should have told him to wait until the rain cleared up to come home. I should have told him to go back inside and make up with the boys and keep recording. Life is just cruel like that, I suppose.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I tried to absorb what John had just said. The first sob escaped my lips, and John held me again. I let him. 

After a moment, I pulled away. "If that's what really happened, then why did Brian tell everyone that everything is okay?"

John took a nervous glance at the other two boys before giving me an answer. 

"Emma, can you keep a secret?"