the beatles smut

john pt. 4

TW/// ABUSE

*you have gone to several studio sessions, your bond with each of the boys grows, especially john.*

i quickly walk down the sidewalk, tears blurring my vision.the bag slung over my back contains necessities and some personal belongings. my chest aches, my whole body does, really. my father had beat me again, worse than it's ever been. pangs of pain resound from the right side of my torso, causing me to wince.

what's worse is that this time it had gotten... well, sexual. it twisted me all up inside because i remember how john had touched me in the same way and i had actually enjoyed it, but when my father started touching me i felt so scared and disgusted. that was the final straw, it was all so awful i couldn't even think about it. 

i finally get to his door and, taking a deep, shaking breath, i knock. oh god, what if he doesn't let me in, i think, gnawing on my lip. 

i hear some scuffling, and the door opens rather quickly. 

"paul?" i gasp, confused. did i have the wrong house? no, it couldn't be. i'm sure this is john's place. 

"april?" he looks down at me, surprised as i am. "what?... jesus, what happened?!" 

i try to speak, but choke on my words. "where-- where's john?"

"he's in the sitting room, what in the hell happened, kid? your face..." paul rambles on as my knees start to give, my body unable to take the stress. paul catches me and pulls me back on my feet.

"jesus christ..." he wraps his arm around my lower back, supporting me so that i don't fall. the world gets a bit fuzzy and even with him holding me i struggle to stay upright.  

"w- why are you here?" i ask, still trembling with the adrenaline of fear.

"well, we we're just all here, y'know? just the four of us, hanging around y'know." paul titters over me as he half-carries me to the sitting room. 

oh god, i think. they're all gonna see me like this.

john doesn't look up from his guitar as we enter. "who the hell was that? at this time of night..." 

seeing me, george and ringo are up in a flash. john glances around in confusion. "paul? who--" he doesn't even finish his sentence before his gaze settles on me. we lock eyes and i can see my own pain and shock reflected back at me. 

"who did this to you?" george demanded, lifting my chin to examine the damage. ringo shoots him a look. "christ george, let the girl sit down first."

"looks that bad, huh?" i joke, trying not to pass out. 

no one replies. george practically picks me up, swiftly setting me on the couch. i don't bother to protest, it was so hard to keep my balance. i locate john again to see that he's gone ghostly white. he knows who did it.

paul takes the nearest suit jacket from off the arm of the couch and wraps it around me. it smells like cigarettes and georges cologne.  i curl into its warmth, although it does little to stop the trembling. 

paul, ringo, and george all kneel around me as john stands just behind them, his jaw clenched. "it was your father, wasn't it?"

a tear slips down my face. "yeah." 

"i'm gonna fucking murder him. i'll kill him." george rages, standing up. 

paul places his hand on mine. "how did... what happened, april?"

"i don't know--- it was all so h-horrid. it's never been this bad before." i choke. 

"it's happened before?" ringo looks concerned. i don't say anything, i just look at my shoes and watch my tears fall on them.