temporary fix || george harrison

52%

OUT OF all the possibilities, the acts of random chance, the lucky strokes of life, I was here. I was here in this moment, clinging to George like he were my anchor of strength, facing a belligerent and unpredictable god, silently hoping we all made it through in one piece.

If things hadn't gone at all my way, I would've been holed up somewhere in Jack's peaky manor, wrapped tightly in a stiffly pressed Chanel dress and sky-high Louboutins. Bruises so violently purple, yet perfectly hidden from view underneath the expensive fabric of a dress that the maid would've picked out for me- at per Jack's request. Assuming he wouldn't have beaten me into submission by then, was a generous assumption. Knowing Jack and his appetites, I'm sure I wouldn't have lasted more than a scant few weeks under his thumb before his blood lust consumed his thoughts.

Before it became just too tempting to snap my neck than to uphold our family's contract forged in fire and betrayal.

I knew all my life that my life was never my own. It was a pawn used on the grand board my father pushed forward, always 5 moves ahead of everyone else. My poor mother had the same fate I was surely going to receive sooner before later, subjugated into a swift and merciless obedient silence.

Fighting the tide for years was exhausting, the resentment I cast for my sister for her freedom was anything but helpful during my formative years. I never got to ask Miranda why our father chose me to be his pawn piece, and not her. Why she was allowed to go to university, dress how she pleased, move into her own flat.

I wondered often if she missed me, if she knew that I was even away. If she knew I didn't resent her anymore. Because all I felt towards my beloved sister was love, and regret for not reaching out to her sooner, reaching out to her before she risked everything for me.

The silence was deafening following Kronos's unsurprising appearance. I understood that the god took enormous pleasure from theatrics, from shapeshifting to stalling time, Kronos pulled out all the stops.

He stood like a jackal in a freshly pressed suit out for blood in the corner of the room, his wicked smile unsettling me to my very core. It was filled to the brim with sadistic delight - I fear the ideas he has for all of us if we didn't escape and fast.

It was shocking and despicable to me that the malevolent god would dare put a hand on George - considering the implications that followed carrying a memory of torture forever. Kronos could've deviated George's timeline - or maybe tortured him just correctly to maintain the right timeline that was currently on course. The logistics of it all made my head hurt.

The breath in my chest was stolen by the flash of red in Kronos's cold eyes, his subtle movements making me aware of the fact he was all but cornering us all into the back of the basement.

"If you don't mind, we were just leaving." I ground out, watching Kronos's reaction whilst keeping an eye on the lads from the corners of my eyes. They were rooted to their spots, the look of pure terror glued on their expressions. There was no way this wouldn't impact their careers forever - there was no way they could go on as they were before. What was Kronos's endgame here?

Was it all a bluff that he cared about the continuity of time? No - he just wants to know if I've figured it out yet- figured out the answer to his endless chase.

Kronos laughed a deep, condescending laugh that rung in my ears harshly, George flinching at my side from the sound of it.

"Oh don't be silly. Have a seat, stay awhile." Kronos spoke menacingly, his eyes glowing red as tightropes of red magic shot out at the 5 of us and forced us to our arses on the cold concrete floor. Paul let out a groan, John cursed, and Ringo began to grumble how he should've stayed at home.