temporary fix || george harrison

53%

WHERE WAS I?

That first thought rang around my pulsating head as I dared to open my eyes when I came to.

Bright light nearly blinded me as I opened my sensitive eyes; it was if I was staring into the face of the bloody sun. Wincing, I sharply used my arm to cover my eyes as I pushed myself to my feet.

I was in a room, I could feel the familiar creak of hardwood beneath my feet. As I came to my senses, I started to make out the smell of the now nostalgic scent of my cinnamon bun scented wax warmer wafting through the air.

Even though I was successful in accomplishing what I set out to do, my heart shattered into a million fragmented pieces within my chest. A George shaped hole now existed in the muscle of my heart- a hole that could never be filled. It felt like the air was stolen from my chest, and it would never be able to be replaced.

I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes as if prolonging the inevitable truth would prolong my arrival back to where I belonged. I could feel the fiery burn of tears collect at the corners of my eyes as the sound of Westminister traffic from below my flat reached my ears. A cruel symphony adding to the cacophonous sensations building up around me.

I could even feel the texture of my fluffy grey rug beneath my exposed legs, and my heart burst open as I gave myself permission to finally open my eyes to reveal my worst fear.

Nothing had changed, it was as if I'd never left. Looking around in a haze, I mentally took inventory of everything that laid strewn about in my ramshackle flat. My few belongings still existed exactly as I'd left them, without a single dust bunny on top of them.

Was it all a dream?

In a daze, I turned my head slightly to see my phone beside me, and I slowly reached for it to check for the time on the front screen. I almost laughed at how unfamiliar the action felt to me now.

When I pressed the home button on its black screen, an illustration of flowers greeted me, and the date sent a wave of nausea through me.

November 12, 2017.

I could feel hysteria creeping up in the back of my throat as I dropped my phone, feeling all together disgusted and repulsed by the device after living for months without it. Was this all some horrifying dream?

The ring sat heavily on my ring finger, I couldn't even bring myself to look at it. I knew it was broken without even having to set my eyes upon it. It had to be done - he had to be stopped. But the emptiness of my choices, the regret, the knowing that I left George in 1963 in a flurry of confusion and heartbreak was almost too much to withstand.

What was I going to do now? I live in a world that he... doesn't anymore.

I was finally alone; truly and completely by all sense of the word. And I wasn't sure what scared me more, the absence of sound, or the knowing I'd never be the same again.