Shelter In Your Love (Beatles Fan Fiction)

77. Beware Of Darkness

Author's note:

Well, here we are. The end of act two, but this is not the end of the story. Not yet. But I get the feeling, I might lose a few of you now, haha... Oh dear. There is a warning for this chapter - sorrow, sadness and strong stuff ahead. This was probably the hardest chapter I've had to write. It's not been entering into lightly. I'm not trying to be flippant or shocking. It was part of the story from the start, but I think it might take some of you by surprise. I'm sorry, because it might be a bit upsetting. (If I've done my job correctly, it should be). Also, the timeline jumps around a bit, so I hope it all makes sense (!)

Thank you all for reading so far and I hope you'll stick around. It's been emotional! Love you all!

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Watch out now, take care
Beware of the thoughts that linger
Winding up inside your head
The hopelessness around you
In the dead of night

'Hannah, please stop crying,' George implores. 'Please, love, I'm so sorry.' He tentatively places his hand on my forearm and then thinks better of it and retracts it.

I try to catch my breath, gulping down lungfuls of air to try and get my sobbing under control. I can't stop. I have been crying for nearly an hour. It's like something's broken and years worth of tears are streaming out all at once. I was crying so loudly, I woke Bobbie, but I couldn't go to her. George had to try and comfort her while comforting me at the same time.

George stares at me, brow furrowed, a mixture of worry and helplessness in his expression. I concentrate on his eyes and finally manage to slow my breathing down. 'I'm... sorry...' I cough.

'You've nothing to be sorry for,' George says, gently. He moves a little closer to me, over the bed, but stops at an arm's length. 'What... What did I do?'

I don't even know. Was it the feel of him on top of me? How he whispered he loved me in my ear? He's done things like that before, and it's never made me feel... that. That's the real reason I'm crying. It's never happened before, with George. I have always felt alright with George. Safe and cared for and not... under his control.

He swallows. 'You can tell me. I never meant to... You should tell me so I don't accidentally...'

'I don't know what it was, George.' I shake my head. 'I need some air.'

I slip off the bed and go to one of the small windows. It's already wide open, but there isn't a breeze tonight. I feel tired and headachy. I lean on the window ledge, looking out. In the reflection on the glass of the windowpane, propped open as wide as it goes, I can see George behind me. He watches me, wanting to say something I think, but then he turns away instead, taking his cigarette packet off the table at the side of the bed.

From here, even in the dark, I can make out the beach and the sea beyond. It looks black, like a slick lake of tar. We were there earlier today. George took Bobbie down to the water's edge as I lay on a beach towel, ostensibly reading a book but really just watching them.

The beach here is quiet and secluded. The sands are almost white, instead of the tan colour they are back home. This is the first time Bobbie has ever seen the sea and it's beautiful. I've never seen a sea this colour before - a clear turquoise. Bobbie seems fascinated by it. George held her in his arms as he strolled in the tide, up and down the beach, pointing things out to her. Bobbie was in a little white dress and sun hat, George - as he has almost permanently since we've been here - wore jeans shorts and sunglasses and nothing else.