Seventy four

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The pictures. The pictures burned in John's mind, flashing over and over like a movie film. A snuff film. A horrifying, gorey rated XXX snuff film. John wanted to believe that this wasn't happening to Ringo, he wanted to believe so badly that Ritchie wasn't handcuffed to a bed with bleeding hickeys all over his neck and chest with tears streaming down his cheeks as a psycho took pictures of him. The box filled with those rested in the trunk of Paul's car, away from John's sight thank god.

What kind of fucking sicko take pictures like that?

"You sure he'll be there?"

Paul nodded, giving him a quick glance before focusing back on the road.

"Don't worry, John. We'll get there in time."

He knew Paul's words meant good for him but it didn't help him at all.

We'll get there.

John had a sick feeling down in his stomach when he thought of the pictures again.

He could only hope.

~~~~~

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Hey! I told you guys to comment •^• haha jk! Comment if you guys want to!

beatlesyo thanks for pointing the "that's evidence" part! I feel so dumb for not noticing that haha

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