Let It Be (A Beatles Story)

Chapter Sixty-Four

There was one night where hell seemed to break loose in London.  I feared that this would be the beginning of the love/hate relationship between John and Paul.  

When they walked through the door of our hotel room, which was where I stayed for the night, I could practically smell how high they were.  It was the first time that I'd known they had smoked pot, and they stumbled around in a daze.  I was about to leave the room, turn a blind eye when Paul grabbed me.  "You should have come with us, Elle.  We had a fab time.  Aren't we so fab...that we can have a fab time, lads?"

There were various answers to that question.  George looked like he was asleep standing up.  Ringo and John were giggling about something I didn't understand.  

"Let's go have fun, Elle," he giggled, which would have been amusing had his eyes not been bright red.  

"No-"

"Elle, live a little-"

"No, Paul!"  

I looked over at the lads for help, but they seemed to be oblivious to what was happening.  Paul didn't seem to realize his strength at that time, because he was crushing my arm.  "Let go of me, Paul."

"Elle-"

"You're hurting me!"

Jerking my arm and trying to pull me into another room, he growled something inaudible.  Frightened, I snapped, "I said let go!" and struck him across the face.  It was just enough force to stun him so I could tear my arm away.  However, John, Ringo and George turned to face us.  For a moment, Paul looked sad.  Of course, I felt bad for hitting him, but I knew worse would most likely have came to me if I hadn't.  

Then his face contorted with anger I had only seen a few times.  "What the hell is wrong with you!"  And then he hit me.  

He hit me.

The person who promised never to hurt me slapped me across the face with enough power that I fell to the floor.  I could feel a small cut in the slap mark from his nails.  

John stood up.  "Screw off, Paul.  She hasn't done anything wrong.  You're as high as the moon."

"And you aren't?" Paul snapped.  Turning to me, he said, "Damn, that felt good." 

Ringo ran over to help me up.  "You control your anger, you bastard.  There's no reason to hit Elle and say it feels good."  I appreciated that he came to help me, but he was a bit wobbly on his feet too.  The way this event was unfolding terrified me.  All these men were on drugs, which meant their mind sat back while their emotions controlled their actions.  Paul might have been trying to be passionate before, but now he was downright pissed-off.  

"Shut up, Ringo," both John and Paul snapped.  I felt horrible for him.  

George popped one of his knuckles.  "Don't tell him to shut up!  He's the only sane one in this room besides Elle!"

John turned to face the youngest member.  "It's always about Elle now, isn't it?  Why don't you tell Paul everything you did when she was having sleep-overs at your house?"  

Paul was seething with anger.  "What happened at your house!" he bellowed.  

"Nothing!  John's just being the asshole he always is!  You're just jealous that I can actually talk to Elle without scaring her!"  

The amount of anger in the room was making my head spin.  I wanted to scream and cry, but I knew that would just make the situation worse.  What was I supposed to say to make them calm down?