A Better Life (Beatles)

Chapter 10

My heart rate sped up to the point that where I was hyperventilating.

"Are you okay?" Paul asked.

"Yeah. It's just... Uhm... It's kinda stuffy in here. Can we roll up the windows and put on the AC instead?" I asked.

I didn't even know why the windows were open since we were being mobbed my fans. There were policemen guarding us, but fans could get past them.

Rafter than rolling up the windows, the boys started to converse about something called "A Hard Day's Night" and some cranky old man.

I looked up at Paul with pleading eyes, and that's when he finally decided to roll up the windows.

"Sure I-I'll close the window." Paul said, climbing over to the front seat to close the windows.

He closed all the windows, then perched himself next to me.

"Are you okay?" He asked. I slightly shook my head.

"What's wrong? A problem shared is a problem halved." He whispered, smiling slightly.

"I-I-I" I stopped myself, coughed a bit, then continued, "I'll tell y-you later." I whispered. He nodded his head, kissed my cheek, and went back to the boys.

I let out a loud, shaky sigh and closed my eyes. I soon drifted off into a lovely, dreamless sleep.

...

I was awoken by someone shaking my ankle.

"Wake up love. We're home." A soft voice said. I instantly recognized it as Paul's.

I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and climbed out of the limo.

"I'm gonna take a shower. Then we'll talk." Paul said once we got inside. I slowly nodded my head in response.

When Paul was out of sight, I ran to my bedroom and dove under the bed.

I was petrified.

⋅⋅⋅

"Tiff!" Someone called. I knew it was Paul, as he was the only person who called me Tiff.

"Yeah?" I called back, my voice probably muffled.

"Where are you?" He asked.

"In my room." I answered. I heard footsteps come closer and my door soon slammed open.

"Whats wrong?" Paul asked. I crawled out from under my bed and looked him in the eye.

I tried to speak but no noises could come out. So instead I dug through my pockets to find the note.

Once I found the crinkled piece of paper, I handed it to Paul. He
un-crinkled it as best as he could and he began to read it. His face became more angry by the second.

When he was done reading it, he re- crinkled it and slammed it in the trash can.

I was expecting him to scream and snap and possibly even hit me out of anger, but he just pulled me into a hug.

"You don't deserve this." He whispered in my ear, his voice shaking just like the rest of him.

I buried my face in the crook of his neck and eventually, I fell asleep.

...

I was five years old again.

"There is a fireman trapped inside a burning house. It hasn't been identified who he is yet. The flames are too high and we don't know where in the house he is." The radio spokesman said.

My mom grabbed my wrist and pulled me out the door.

"Were going to that house." She told me.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because that could be your father for all we know!"

...

Once we got there it was too late. The fire was gone, but what they pulled out of the house was the subject of my nightmares for years.

My father.

Completely motionless.

"No." I whispered.

They placed his body on the grass and I knelt down next to him. I realized that he was breathing, but very slowly.

He opened his eyes painfully slowly and turned his head to me.

He put his hand on my cheek and whispered, "I love you."

Tears streamed down my face.

"I love you too." I replied just before his eyes closed and his breathing stopped.

My dad used his dying breath to tell me he loves me.

...

I woke up in the arms of Paul.

"Shhhh." He soothed, rubbing my back as I cried.

"You'll be okay with me. Always."