-Beatles- ||IMAGINE||

#3 ||GEORGE|| cont.d

#3 || George || part 2
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You opened the door to the bathroom and spotted the window where you were going to get out of.

You were furious, frustrated and scared. How dare he hit you? How dare he say those things to you? He couldn't have touched you like that!

christ Ronnie, you almost got raped!

As you were about to reach for the window ledge you stopped in thought.

..you almost got raped..

The reality of it hit you. This wasn't bullying anymore. It was abuse.

You looked at the mirror to your right and nearly fainted when you saw the bruise around your eye.

Your body was wearing off of adrenaline and the pain became more prominent. You slowly walked over to the sink and stared at the unrecognizable reflection.

The hue took place mostly at your eye-bags and at the corner of your brow bone.

You could only give a slight gasp before you took a step back and bumped into the window. Your back was pressed against the glass and you could feel your bow digging at your scalp.
You didn't care.

The pain was slowly being replaced by crying.

It was a bad idea to be that careless. You couldn't have just expected no one to see you, you should've known. And now you want to ditch school? You didn't know where the hell you would go. If you went home, your mum would question you about your eye. If you stayed you would've had to face Jake.

You turned to the only thing you were sure of.

"George. What do I do?" You sobbed.

George's face was on your screen as he returned his usual smile. All the emotions you held in came out.

"George I-I can't believe I did that." You say with the most absurd hope that he would answer back. "George please help."

Maybe it was your mind but you thought you heard a slight creak coming from the window.

"I wish I was with you George." You cried out to him.

Then the voice of reality came back. You hated it. You never wanted to deal with the reality of life. Reality is; Jack almost raped you. You thought of another scary thought.

You were talking to no one.

The 60s are over. There was no more Beatles.

You looked at the phone screen again that brightened up George's smile.

George was never going to say anything. George wasn't here.

In all angst, you threw your phone with enough force to make it a couple feet from where you were crouching. Then, just when the phone hit the floor, the window moved a slight bit more open and it made you jump.

You quickly got up, not even bothering to check for your broken phone screen because you didn't have time for what you saw next.

It was visible that a hand was up against the glass and that the other was trying to unscrew the lever.

Someone was coming in. Someone was trying to break into the school.

You analyzed the possible way outs. You could've ran to the door, but if you wanted to do that, you should've done it 5 seconds ago.

The intruder was just milliseconds away from coming in.

You eyed the tiny bathroom and spotted one of the stalls. You hastily ran towards it, locked the door shut, and stood on top of the toilet lid.
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