temporary fix || george harrison

47%

"JULIET WHAT are those?" Miranda asked in a shaky voice as I slipped my dress on, staring into my own lifeless eyes in the vanity mirror.

It was far too white in here, my dress far too and happy to be adorned on the likes of me. The walls were painted eggshell, the lights trimmed to their highest highlighting settings. Mum said it was to keep my spirits high, and to keep my skin aglow.

I only saw right through my well constructed facade- the emptiness that lingered in the

All I could see on my skin was varying shades of puce and black, and it was too painful to conceal it anymore.

"Miranda, just please help me put on this dress." I was almost crying, no, I was almost hysterical. Here I was, begging my sister to sign my warrant to be remanded into the care of my abuser.

I was defeated, beaten into submission. I had no fight left in me, I was resigned to the fact that I wasn't my own sentient being anymore. I was an extension of Jack, I was his wife, his prize, his prisoner.

Miranda rushed up to me with tears falling from her hazel eyes and soft sobs trembling from her lips, and she grabbed the sleeves of my dress and yanked it down. I winced in pain and she only just cried harder in response, leaving me standing in a fallen halo of white taffeta feeling desensitized to it all.

"We are burning this dress, you're not going to wear it. In fact, this wedding is going to be scorched too. Get back into your threads, Jules. I'm taking you to the airport." Miranda said in a single breath, gently removing my dress and undoing the bodice.

I whimpered softly as her fingers just barely grazed the tender skin hidden beneath the well sewn fabric, letting the emotion out as my sister saves my life.

"What about dad?" I asked her, preening. Loving my sister more than I have in my entire life in this moment.

"Forget him. Forget him and mother. They did this to you, and I will exact the proper revenge on them that they deserve. You, go to the States with Aunt Christine and wait for the fallout to be over. I'll have provisions made for you in Westminster when I feel it safe for you to return." Miranda said as she finally tore through the last of the buttons and yanked the dress down.

"Miran, you don't need to do this."

"You're going to live. So I must."

You know that fear, that gut wrenching, heart pounding, sweat inducing, skin itching type of fear? That type of fear that only rears its nasty head every blue moon?

I'd never felt it at such a fever pitch until this very moment. I feel it deep seated in my chest- taking root as my mind conjures up horrible, dreaded images of the man I love suffering at the hands of the lawless tyrant known as Kronos. And if it were true, it was all my fault.

Once again.

Paul and Ringo came tumbling out of the room to see me collapsed on the dirty hotel hallway floor with John surrounding me like some concerned father bear. He and I exchanged looks which told two very different stories. You need to tell them what this is about, his eyes read. And no doubt my own mirrored the horror of having to bring the most undeserving of any harm kind of men into the fold of my own terrible conniption.

"What is the matter? Juju, what's wrong? Are yea hurt?" Paul asked frenetically as Ringo crouched down beside me and placed the back of his right hand to my forehead. I almost allowed myself to giggle.

"She hasn't got any temperature of any sort. She seems well enough- Ju, did you have a fright? Is someone after ye?" Ringo asked with the most pure form of concern seeping into the light baby blue irises of his eyes. I felt my own eyes begin to burn with tears of unbearable shame. He didn't even know the irony of what he just said.