I Need You

Part 1 - Little Child (rewrite)

        Although I'm quite up in years now, I still remember everything as if it happened yesterday.  The day I finally fell for the love of my life.  George.
     I'm sorry,  let me introduce myself.  My name is Jean. Jean Wilhelmina Lennon. Yes, THAT Lennon. John was my older brother. Three years older, actually, but we were quite close despite the age gap. I hardly ever called him John. I affectionately dubbed him 'Winnie', or just plain 'Winn', after his hated middle name of Winston. He duly struck back in retaliation and referred to me as 'Wils'. Mum must have been off her nut when she "blessed" us with these horrid names.. Anyroad.. Winn had his mates, but he and I understood each other better than anyone else ever could. Dad left right after my birth, John was just a tot. Mum left us with an auntie when we were quite young and didn't come round much, at least for a while. She had started to repair her relationship with us when she died. I was 15, John 17. It was tragic and sad, but it affected Winn a lot worse than it did me. I was used to living under Aunt Mimi's roof, with her rules, and desire for us to grow up proper. Winn didn't much care for rules or authority, and as much as he loved Mimi, he'd wind her up just to see her lose her temper. He did that with a lot of people.  Okay, most people..
       Fuck, I've lost my train of thought. Sorry.. As I was saying, the day I realized I loved George was typical enough.  At least, at first it was..    Mimi was gone, visiting family somewheres, and John had the brill idea of having a shindig, inviting his mates over for a rousing good time.  I wasn't a party girl, at least not in those days, and would have much preferred a quiet night in my room: a bit of reading, maybe some music and a cuppa, or working on some paintings (Winn and I had a mutual love of art). But I loved being around him, so I took the loss of my solitary evening in stride and wandered downstairs. The usual lot were in attendance: John's fellow teds, a few acquaintances from college (including his mate Stu), his bandmates, and his bird, Cynthia.  Cyn and I were always dear, dear friends. She was like a sister to me, helping me with girl problems when I was too embarrassed to seek Mimi. Once Cyn arrived, John pulled her upstairs, and I was left alone. Annoyed with my prat of a brother at setting up a party and then deserting me, I sat at the table in the dining room, fiddling with a scotch in my hand, rather than drinking the damned thing. Bored out of my mind, I contemplated heading out back to the garden, but I didn't dare leave Mimi's house to the ne'er-do-wells currently infesting it. I looked around glumly, taking an occasional sip from my bevvy. We hadn't any ice, so it was warm as piss and made more disgusting by the fact that I loathed scotch; I don't know why I grabbed it in the first place.      
       I hummed to myself, Buddy Holly's 'Words of Love', as I puffed lazily on a fag I nicked from Winn's pocket. I watched the smoky tendrils swim skyward, fading into the air. As the liquor dulled my senses, I fell into a relaxed frame of mind, and dangerous territory.  I must have been more bladdered than I thought,  because I didn't hear fuck all around me, not till he invaded my personal space anyway.      
      "Wils Lennon?"
       "JEAN Lennon. Only John calls me Wils." I turned round to face an older boy I didn't really know. Tall bloke, yet husky, shaped sort of like a fridge.  He stank of stale smoke and cheap booze. I opened my heavy eyes, looking into his pockmarked face. He sneered at me. Wanker.
        "Where IS your brother?" he asked suspiciously.  "Usually where there's one of you, the other isn't too far behind. Bit annoying, really."
      "John's upstairs, and as for us bein' close, it's none of your bloody concern, so get fucked."
       "Now now Lennon, mind your temper. I'd hate to have to tell your brother what a bitch you're bein'." He approached me, and grabbed my wrist angrily.
      "Geroff me, ya prick! Don't make me kick your arse in front of everyone and embarrass ya!"
       "Come come now, let's not get feisty. Give us a kiss."  He took his hand from my wrist and roughly groped my breasts and tried to force himself on me. Even with all my strength (which granted, wasn't much),  I couldn't push him off me.
       "Back off Lewis," said a voice behind me. "She didn't do a damn thing to you, so leave her alone."  The voice sounded vaguely familiar,  and as I turned to look at him, I realized why. It was George Harrison, a recent bandmate of John's, and longtime friend of mine. George and I were in the same line at school and had basically grown up together.
         "What, you her little boyfriend or summat Harrison?," the boy said, laughing. "I'm not scared of a little pissant like you! Get outta here,  you're too young to see what I'm about to do to her." He pushed me down to the floor, sat on my legs, and started hiking up my skirt, copping a feel as his hand moved higher.
         "I'm not," said another voice. "In fact, I wager I'm old enough to beat the shite out of ya meself. Now get off 'er before I cripple ya."
          I fought off my attacker enough to get off the floor, but not out of his grip. The other voice came from another of John's bandmates, Paul McCartney.
        "What's this, another little boyfriend Lennon? Quite the little slag you are. Too bad you're all mine tonight," he said as he pushed me down again.   George attempted to pull him off me but instead got punched in the gut. Paul grabbed Lewis by the shirt and landed a left hook to his jaw. Holding his stomach, George stood up and went for Lewis again.   Both boys attempting to free me and me cursing a blue streak naturally gathered a crowd.  At once, quiet murmers started, and another person joined the tussle.

           "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS ALL THIS THEN!," another voice bellowed. To my relief,  it was John.  "Wils?! Wils, what's going on?!"   Seeing this party crasher attack me set off a fire in John's belly, and NOBODY tangled with John. 
          He lunged for Lewis, trying not to hit Paul, George, or me in the process. Lewis pulled away but tripped as he was trying to drag me with him. John lunged again and grabbed him by the throat, squeezing as soon as his fingers wrapped around the back.
       Hatred flashing in John's eyes, he went nose to nose with the brute.
       "If you care for your cock-ridden life, you'll let me sister go," he said with a snarl. "And if you so much as LOOK at her, you'll wish I'd strangled you here and now. He squeezed Lewis' throat once more to show he meant business.  "Now get out."
        "You've not seen the last of me, Wils!" Lewis declared,  as he headed for the door.   I shrank into John's arms, the only place I felt safe. John locked his arms around me, ashamed that he had left me alone. Paul and George's eyes sank, sympathizing with John,  both blaming themselves for not keeping a closer eye on me. 
        "I'm sorry, Wils,"  he said sadly.  "It's my fault."
       "You shouldn't have to be on guard constantly, Winn. I don't blame you at all. " John kissed my head, tousling my auburn tresses, and I slipped away, up the stairs.
     
    "Alright, show's over!" John yelled.  "You don't have to go home, but ya can't stay here."
    Looking at Paul and George, he motioned them over. "I thank ya for what ya did, trying to protect Wils. She's me life, and I owe you both. You're welcome to stay."
         "Thanks, John, we'd feel better staying.  You know,  in case that ruddy bastard comes back," Paul whispered.
       "Ta lads. I'll check on her before I go to bed."
   Paul finished his lager and sat on the couch as George climbed the stairs behind John, retreating to the loo. Having been here for practices numerous times,  he knew my room was right next to John's. "Maybe I'll check on her meself, after John's gone, of course," he thought to himself.