𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 (𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴)

❛❛chapter eight: sanctuary❜❜

Why is everyone dying? I couldn't quite comprehend it, death, of course. It seems so unreal. All I could think about was how John was doing.

"Where's John?" I asked with haste.

Paul voice wavered, "I think he's with Bobby at the ozzy."

"Which one?"

"Sefton General Hospital."

"Okay, thank you." I quickly hung up on Paul and grabbed my things.

I ran out the door and down the street. I found my way to a bus stop and got a ride. I sat in a leather seat near the middle. Guys around me kept staring at me like animals, and I swear I wanted to break their jaws. If only they knew what just happened. Wait, what did just happen? Julia is dead? How is this happening to me? Maybe it's a bit selfish to think like that; it's not about me. Poor John just got his family somewhat back together, and it didn't last more than a year. I'm angry for him; his life has been so unfair.

The bus screeched to a halt, and I stood up to get off. As I did so, one of the boys whistled at me. I quickly turned around and struck his face. I don't know what came over me, but I guess I was just very worked up. I looked down at his reddened face and newly bleeding nose. I couldn't have hit him that hard. His friends started shouting at me, so I took the cue to leave. I scurried off the bus and made it to the hospital door.

I walked up to the front desk, "Is John Lennon 'ere?"

I rubbed my fist lightly, calming my nerves. The lady slowly looked up at me.

"Yah." She chewed her gum loudly.

"Can I see him?"

"No. You have to wait down 'ere." She gave a stone-cold face.

I sighed and sat down in one of the chairs. Beside me was an older gentleman who was reading. I lightly bobbed my knee up and down, just waiting the time away.

⊱ ────── {⋆⌘⋆} ────── ⊰

I heard a few footsteps come from the hall, so I looked up to see John, red-eyed and puffy-faced. He looked distraught, almost like he'd just been through hell and back. I stood up from my chair, catching his eye, and his eyebrows instantly furrowed. A bit of puzzlement crossed my face.

I walked over to him, "I'm so sorry."

I wrapped my arms around his body. I didn't really know what else to do. I couldn't just stand there and watch him, that would be weird, but I guess this is a little weird too.

"I came 'ere as soon as I heard." I breathed a shuttered breath into his chest.

He pressed a hand into my back and walked us out of the hospital. I placed myself in front of him.

"I was worried about you." My eyes softened.

He looked directly into my auburn irises; a sad look painted on his face. The irritation seemed to disappear. He tugged me into his chest, holding me close. I was just glad he wasn't upset with me.

"I'm sorry about Julia," I whispered to him.

He sniffled, "It's okay."

❧July 16, 1958☙

My father was out at the pub, so John came over, and we laid in my room on the floor snacking on sweets while All I Have To Do Is Dream played in the background. John had been grieving the loss of his mother while in my company like I was a safe space for him. I embraced it and quite enjoyed the feeling that I was important to him.