The Beatles: A Mini-series

Paul (1966)

{A/N: Hi guys, this story deals with a more serious topics, like depression, abuse, and suicidal thoughts, so if you are uneasy with that, please wait until the next chapter. I'm sorry, I'm just in a mood to write a serious subject matter. As always, thanks for reading, love you guys.}

     "Fine, good! Get the fuck outta here!" Your father screamed in my face. "I don't need a little shit like you running your mouth! I bet-"
   But by that time I was out of there. I ran across the street, in the rain, to my neighbor Paul's house. I pounded on his front door. He opened it, and immediately let me in; he knew it was family trouble again.
   "What did that horrid man do this time?" Paul asked as he grabbed me a towel. I wrapped it around myself and sat on the floor. He sat next to me.
    "Apparently I cleaned the dishes wrong. And then we started fighting. I knew that was a bad idea, but I couldn't help it. I'm fed up with his bullshit. As usual, he strikes me. And then my mother tried to help, and she got it worse from him. And then I said I'd leave, and he told me, 'Good, get the fuck outta here!' So, I did." I cried and Paul pulled me into his arms. Soon enough, like always after I cried, I began to feel numb.
   "I don't know how much more I can take," I whispered, staring off into nothing.
    "You're going to have to stay strong, baby. I'll help you, I promise," he whispered to me, cradling me in his arms, caressing my hair.
   This affection from Paul made silent tears stream down my face. He was always so nice to me.
    I suddenly had an itch on my arm, and as I scratched, I felt it. I sighed and had no choice but to fess up to my hero who comforted me.
   "Paul..I tried...to do..it," I whispered.
   "Do..what?" He asked concerned.
   I held up my wrists, revealing the cuts. Paul sighed.
   "Oh honey.." He said in a hushed voice. I knew he wasn't mad; but rather he was disappointed.
    "Why." He asked flatly.
   "Yesterday, after dad hit me, I just thought, 'well, this is it' and I cut them, but I didn't cut deep enough. And I cried, half because I was relieved, and half because I wasn't finally away from that hell hole I have no choice but to call home."
   "Darling, I know you're trying to be as strong as you can, but killing yourself is not the answer. I know it doesn't seem like it, but everything you're going through right now will make you stronger in the long run. So I'll tell you what's going to happen. I'm going to take you in until you can move out on your own. I can't sit here and let you go home everyday to a monster."
   "But what about my mother?"
   "I don't know. Once we get you out, we get her out."
  "I can't-"
  "Well I can't let you live there anymore. Your mother is a grown women. I know she's scared but she can leave. However for you it's a bit harder since you're still a child. I'll let you know I'd have no problem letting your mother stay here too."
   "Paul, I appreciate it your offer so much, but it can't be done. Monsters are very hard to hide from."
   "I just, I can't see you like this anymore. I can't let you go back. At least not tonight. I'm making you stay here tonight. And I'll pressure you to stay here every other night. I care greatly for you, and no one should go through what you and your mother are going through."
   When I looked at Paul, a feeling of love that I haven't felt in a long time shot through me. I wrapped my arms around this wonderful man and squeezed him. I cried, and he cried with me. I kissed him on the cheek and thanked him.
   "C'mon, let's get you some dry clothes and some tea," Paul said.
   I agreed and we sat for about two hours talking, drinking tea and munching on biscuits. Around 11:00pm, I started to get tired. Paul led me up to a guest bedroom, and I laid there, for the first time in months, happy and comfortable, wrapped up in my hero's t-shirt.