Love Me Do

The Ending (Part 1)

IF I DON'T PUBLISH THIS NOW THEN I NEVER WILL OMG UR ALL GONNA HATE ME UGGGGHHH

Kaylee's POV

~ 16 years later ~

My hand gripped the telephone as I felt the blood drain from my face.

It was a feeling I never want to put into words, let alone brain-waves.

"P- Paul?" I ask into the phone, hearing nothing but silence on the other end. "Paul, you wanted to speak to me?"

"Kaylee, I'm so sorr-." He managed, but halfway through, his voice broke and all I heard were chokes and sobs.

A thud came through the receiver, but I didn't let go. He must have dropped the phone. Fear was rushing through my veins, and I couldn't move. What was going on?

I felt a muffle of noises, and then the clear sound of Paul crying. Someone else had picked it up.

"Kaylee, are you there?" Came another voice, and I recognised it as Linda, Paul's wife. Second wife, after he broke poor Jane's heart. "Honey, oh my God."

"Linda, please tell me what's going on," I pleaded, tears beginning to brim the surface of my eyes. "I'm scared, why's everyone crying?"

"Listen, honey, get Jasper and come over straight away," Was all Linda responded with, but I couldn't. Jasper was at his friends - too far away - and I needed to know what was going on now.

"No, I can't." I replied, my voice quivering. Every single thought was leading back to John. Where was he? "Linda, what's happened?"

"John's been shot."

===

Terror.

Terror is something that overtook everything. It makes you become a superhuman.

Without terror, I would never have been able to grab every single green light in town and make it to the hospital John was at in the matter of five minutes, but I did.

As I pushed my way past security, I couldn't have thanked the Lord enough that I was Kaylee Lennon, John Lennon's wife, or I might've been stuck in the waiting room, hearing the dead line.

As I reached the emergency ward, I just knew the room John was in by the look of it. It had shouts and beep's coming from underneath the door, and a doctor was standing guard.

"Ma'am, you can't come-" He began, but I didn't bother glancing towards him as I merely pushed past and into the room of bustling doctors and aids.

"Someone hook him to the IV!"

"He's loosing blood- Give me something!"

"Shit, shit, shit, Miranda, give him the mask!"

Everywhere, professionals were rushing past, hovering around me like I didn't exist.

By now, my cheeks were coated with tears, and all I wanted to do was get to my husband and grab his hand, but too many wires and bandages were covering him, and I didn't know how to make it through the crowd.

My ears were buzzed over, but they tuned in just in time to hear:

"We're losing him!"

My bones kicked into action, and before I could register what I was doing, I had scrambled through the many wires and over to John's side. His glasses were gone, and blood was seeping through the white sheets; how did this happen?

How did I let this happen?

"Who the fuck let her in here?" Someone shouted from beside me, and I felt a pair of strong hands grip my shoulders, but I stood my ground as hard as I could.

"I can't leave!" I screamed, the heart-monitor speeding up as the hands tried to push me. My eyes wouldn't leave my husbands motionless body as he lay in his bed, deaf to everything around him. "John! John, you can do this!"

I tore away from the hands, gathering my superhuman strength once again, and I raced to John's side, frantically searching for his hands underneath the beds covers.

"Get her out!" People were screaming, but I'd found a hand, and that was all I cared about.

My heart raced faster than John's on the monitor, and I squeezed his hand, sobbing.

"John, John, can you hear me?" I pleaded, teas escaping my eyes, breathes ripping through my lungs. "John, baby, please, you need to pull through. You have to."

Just as I said those words, I remembered my grandfathers words.

..He was shot, that Lennon. 1980. 40 years old..

"No," I breathed, squeezing his hand even tighter as my knees grew weak. "John, you can't. You can't leave me. Jasper needs you. Paul needs you. Ringo and George need you."

The heart-monitor continued to scream at me, merging into one noise with the doctors shouts as they finally ignored me while they tried to keep John alive.

"I need you."

====

Do you hate me, yet? THERE IS A PART TWO OKAY?