⇾ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈

𝚇𝚇𝚇𝙸𝙸𝙸

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢-𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 → 𝚅𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚞𝚖

⊹ 𝟷𝟶-𝟷-𝟷𝟿𝟼𝟾 ⊹

Rain fell from the skies atop Liverpool. Julian was on John's lap, his cheek resting against the cold, train window as his eyes scanned the scenery with a bored look on his face. John was quiet. He kept his eyes on the outside world, the world that was slowly losing sunlight as the fiery ball in the sky dipped down below the horizon, making the evening even more gloomy than it already was with the rain. I leaned my head against Paul's shoulder across the aisle in our compartment. I had nothing more than a small backpack on the seat next to me, and all it contained was a few articles of clothing and some of my medication. I'd gotten us out of London as fast as I could after my mental breakdown had finally concluded. 

There was a melancholy atmosphere about the train compartment. No words could fill the void that the silence brought on. None. I hadn't said a single word since we'd left Kenwood. I was bloody depressed, more depressed than I had been ever since I'd found out I was pregnant so many months ago. Not to mention, I felt vulnerable, wordless, emotionless, confused, and just lost altogether. I wasn't sure why this had to happen to my mother, and I wasn't sure what I'd do if it was true or if she really did have such a scary and deadly disease. There was a part of me that hoped that she was all right, or maybe she just had some ordinary illness, one that she was guaranteed to recover from.

One that wasn't the worst out there. 

The train station was loud, and people moved around me at every angle. I could have sworn someone said Paul's name, or maybe John's, but nothing was really registering with me. I was too focused on keeping my feet moving forward without falling over. 

The taxi ride to 20 Forthlin Road was about the longest drive I had ever had to sit through. By the time we made it to the house, I wanted nothing more than to see my mother. I needed her to tell me that she was all right. I needed to hear her say that she wasn't going to leave me, not when I was so young at least. Not when I was about to have another baby. Not when my life was just beginning. I needed her to meet my new child. I needed her to see Paul marry Linda. I needed her to meet Paul's future children. 

All in all, I just needed her alive. I needed her to be okay. I couldn't bloody live without her, it felt. 

Paul didn't knock on the door. He just opened it and walked straight inside. Jim McCartney sat in the living room waiting for us, a bottle of scotch in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Julian fought to get out of John's arms, and he scurried off when he spied a cat down the hallway. He had no idea what was happening. He didn't know why we were here, or why it had been such a rush to get us here at all. He had no ruddy clue.

"Dad?" Paul asked.

Jim McCartney's head turned slowly. He had a strained look in his eyes as I'd he had been crying, but was trying to hold it together now. "You wanna go and see her?" he asked us. We nodded solemnly.