Temporary Secretary

Fifteen

Amethyst's POV

It was a stupid bloody Tuesday when it all seemed to happen at once. I was in the office early in the afternoon doing some work for Paul, who was upstairs in the room he had full of instruments working on a new song. I wasn't sure of Mary's whereabouts, but I knew she was in the house to say the least. I had just stacked the papers and organized the new files Paul had for his sales and such, which he enjoyed tracking, when the doorbell rang.

"Paul! Someone's at the door!" I called up the stairs, wondering if he wanted to answer it himself, or not answer it at all. I was frightened, considering there was a front gate.

"Do me a favor, don't let them in!" 

I heard him shuffling around upstairs and soon he was coming down the stairs. I went to meet him at the bottom of the stairs near the front door. Luckily, all the curtains were drawn and whoever was at the door wasn't able to see through the milky glass by the door.

"Who could it be?" I asked him nervously.

"I don't know, I mean the last person to scale the gate was John..."

I could see the sadness in his eyes at the mention of his once best friend. I wrapped my arms around him and the doorbell rang once again.

"Would someone get the bloody door already?" Mary said as she stomped out of her room and to the top of the stairs.

"Excuse you, young lady, but since when do you run this household?" Paul asked.

"I don't, but that doorbell is rather annoying."

"Just go back to your room, Mary."

"Fine." She huffed and stomped back to her room.

"Should we get it?" I asked Paul.

"We can crack the door with the locks still shut?" He said questioningly.

"I guess so." Paul went over to open the door hesitantly while I stood behind him.

At the very moment he cracked open the door, I heard a smashing from the kitchen. I stayed quiet and Paul looked to me, shutting the door as quietly as possible.

"I know that was you, McCartney. Now where's that bloody whore of yours?" An eerie voice echoed from the kitchen to the foyer where we were standing. Mary was now standing at the top of the stairs, a look of concern on her face, but I could see straight through her little charade.

Paul pulled me desperately into the office while motioning to Mary and mouthing the word "hide" to her. We were hidden behind the desk and I heard the footsteps approaching the door. 

"I thought when someone was knocking at the door you were supposed to let 'em in, McCartney?" The man said. His voice sent shivers down my spine, but not like the one's I received from Paul's very touch. 

"I love you." I mouthed to Paul.

"I love you too." He mouthed back and placed a gentle kiss on my lips.

The door creaked open and the intruder entered. I caught a glimpse of his figure, clad in black, mask on his face, knife in his hand. Paul looked to me one last time before standing up. I clung to his leg, not wanting him to leave my side.

"What do you want?"

"I want that whore that belongs to you dead."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Paul said calmly.

"You know good and well what I'm talking about, McCartney. Stand up you little slut and stop hiding behind your master."

I stood up quivering and decided not to hold on to Paul, hoping it would change the intruder's mind.

"There you are. How does it feel to be a permanent prostitute you dirty slut?" The man's voice put a chill across the room.

"I'm just his secretary, sir. I know not what you are speaking of."

"Proper for a whore if you ask me."

"Please do not address my secretary like that. She works for me in this office and that is final."

The intruder stepped forward, bearing the knife tightly in his hand and raised slightly.

"That's not what I've heard, you liar."

"Who are your sources?" I asked.

"That's not important. You have five minutes to leave this house and never come back or I will stab you, stupid girl."

"Why do you have such a vendetta? We aren't affecting you." Paul said.

"You admit it. You are together. That's one more stab for your precious stone of February."

My mind instantly flashed back to the day the paparazzi were following us and the man who asked me of my name.

"You! I remember you. The paparazzi who we turned away. The one who asked my name and I said the stone of February. Why are you doing this?"

"It's not for me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Paul said.

"Back talking, McCartney? Another stab for your precious little gem."

Paul slowly started to walk towards the cabinet where he kept a knife for protection, which he told me about in case I was ever home alone, but he was stopped.

"I wouldn't do whatever you're about to do, McCartney. Leaving your precious stone in the open to be destroyed." 

At this very moment, the intruder lunged for me, digging the knife into my shoulder and I screeched in agony. The intruder stabbed my abdomen, my leg, and had the knife at my throat when he was suddenly knocked off of my bleeding body by Paul, who now had a knife in hand. The intruder jabbed at Paul, but only scraped his arm, tearing his button-up shirt. Paul became dominant and had the man pinned underneath him.

"Paul, don't kill him." I muttered. 

I could feel the blood pouring out of me and I was fearing for my life. 

"Wound him-ambulance." I said, my breathing scattered.

Paul quickly and with great force, stabbed the intruder in his legs and arms, making sure he wouldn't be able to move. He then reached for the phone off of his desk and rang the emergency number.

"Yes, this is Paul McCartney. An intruder has broken into my home and has stabbed my assistant. Please send help immediately."

The operator must have been speaking, but slowly the world around me started to fade.

"He's-control-daughter-you." Paul's words were becoming choppy and I could no longer comprehend what was happening. 

The last thing I saw before my mind went blank was Mary standing at the door of the office, with an emotionless look on her face.

Then, my consciousness was gone and it was as if I was in another world.