The End (Beatles Fanfiction)

Chapter 11

{GUYS IM BACK

It's been so long since I updated, I'm really sorry :( I doubt if anyone is still following this story, but I'll continue anyway.

I've just been extremely busy with school, dance, volleyball, etc.

But now that I'm lying at home with no wisdom teeth and nothing to do, I have decided to give this another shot.

Here goes!

L***}

GEORGE

"George, honey, what's the matter?"

I looked up, into Pattie's eyes. They were open wide, filled with worry.

"You haven't said anything since you've come home," she said softly.

I turned my head away and faced the window. My fingers tapped the arm of the sofa I sat on.

"George, please," Pattie bent down to her knees and shuffled over to face me. "Tell me what's wrong."

Tell you what's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong.

Everything is falling apart.

The band never agrees on anything.

Not on music, not on production, not on management, nothing.

Paul's acting like he's in charge, and nothing is ever good enough for him.

Ringo's being blown around by everyone.

John is all freaked because of Prudence, and Yoko isn't making it any better.

And then we have good days, but they never last, they just get swept under the rug, and everyone's back to hating each other again.

And then there's you, Pattie, and Eric, and me, and me, and me.

Something's wrong with everyone!

Wrong with them!

With us!

No one is right anymore! Everything is so bloody wrong, and I don't know what to do!

Are you satisfied with that?

I kept staring silently past her, out the window.

PRUDENCE

Get back

Get back

Get back to where you once belonged...

"Prudence?"

My head swung up to the source of the voice.

"Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Allemande," I breathed, straightening up from the desk with a fidget.

"Eet's quite aul-right, dear," my boss replied, his accent lilting in his words. As he neared me I looked down at my outfit, making sure nothing looked unruly, then focused my attention back up to him.

"Is something the matter, sir?" I asked.

"No, no, Pru-dence," Mr. Allemande said, my name bouncing off his tongue. I looked up from my seat. He smiled warmly, his taught face relaxing with the comfortable expression, and looked down at my desk.

His face fell slightly. 

"Ah, Pru-dence," he said slowly, "have you done any work tiou-day?"

I looked down at my desktop. My sketchbook lied neatly on the surface, open to an empty sheet of paper.

"Mr. Allemande, I- I'm sorry, I-"

He placed his hand gently on my shoulder, quieting my stammers.

"Pru-dence, I've never seen you like zis," he said quietly. "Ever since yea-ster-day you 'aven't been yourself. Ees some-thing wrong?"

I kept looking down at my blank sheet, and slowly shook my head.

Nothing was wrong.

It was just peculiar.

Surpising.

That was all.

Not wrong.

I let out a breath. I had trouble convincing even myself.

Mr. Allemande sighed, releasing his hold on my shoulder. "Darling," he began, "maybe you should go 'ome and rest. To-mau-rrow is a new day, you may feel better then."

I looked up. "No, sir, I can do work today, it's alright-"

Mr. Allemande let out a sigh and shook his head. "Go 'ome and rest," he repeated. "To-mau-rrow you will come back, and we will do better, oui?" He smiled once again, and held out his arm. I gratefully took it and stood up.

"Thank you, Mr. Allemande," I said softly.

He nodded warmly. "Just make sure that to-mau-rrow you are ready for real work, Pru-dence."