Will I Still Need You? (Part 1 in the Needing You series)

Chapter Eight

A month later, I was becoming more comfortable with my surroundings. I knew that I was again safe and knew that my brother and George would protect me. The big problem, though, was John.

Richard hinted to me more than once that I needed to see him, even he hated him. George told me he had started drinking again. I felt bad, but I remembered the suffering John put me through when he left me alone.

When John drinks, nothing good can turn out. The last time he drank, he shot some heroin. It was terrible. John had a very bad trip and almost killed himself.

I had left John for the first time and Paul called me in hysterics. The phone started ringing at my brother's flat and I had answered it. "Starkey and Harrison household, Windy speaking," I answered nonchalantly, looking at my newly painted red nails. "Windy it's John," Paul cried. "What happened, Paul," I asked, boredly.

I was finished with John. I just was tired of him mistreating me. I was eighteen years old. I wanted and needed a life. Someone who would treat me right.

"He's in the bathroom, Windy, he won't come out, he's sobbing in there and I'm afraid he's going to do something if we don't hurry," Paul said quickly, his voice cracking at the end. By then, I was worried. Like extremely. "Paul," I said lowly. "I need you to try to get John out of that room, coax him gently, don't let him do anything, I'll be there in five minutes."

"O-okay," Paul whispered. "Please hurry, Windy." I slammed the phone down. "Dammit John," I thought. I grabbed my brother's car keys. He and George were out eating.

I ran to the car and started it. I pulled out of the driveway and started driving down the road. I felt tears slipping down my cheeks. I took my hand off the wheel and wiped away my tears. After about five minutes of driving, I pulled into John's driveway. I saw Paul run out the door and wait.

I got out and walked to Paul. His hair was stuck out in many places and he eyes were red from crying. "H-he w-won't come out, Windy," He whispered. I pulled Paul into my arms. "He's my best friend, Windy," He sobbed. "I can't lose him." Paul rested his head on my shoulder. I put my hand on the back of his head. I stroked his hair, trying to calm him down. "Shh," I whispered. "I can't lose John," Paul whispered.

I held him tighter. "You won't, love," I whispered. Paul sighed and let go of me. "Where is he," I asked. "In the bathroom," Paul answered. "I know that, Paul, but which one," I asked. "Hall," Paul answered. I nodded and.Paul opened the door.

When I walked in, I heard sobbing. I sighed and walked to the bathroom. I knocked on the door. "John, it's Windy, what's going on in there, sweetheart," I asked. I heard a ragged sob. Paul came and slid down the wall. "He's going to die, Windy," Paul muttered.

I turned to Paul. "Shut up, Paul," I hissed. I turned back to the door. "John, please let me in," I pleaded. No answer. I sighed and pulled a pin out of my hair and stared picking the lock. After a few minutes, I heard a click and I pushed the door open.

I saw John on the floor, needle pricks in his arms and syringes spread out. John was sobbing hysterically. I sighed. Paul fell to the floor, sobbing. I turned to Paul. I slapped him and said, " Get yourself together, Paul!" Paul sniffed and got up.

I walked over to John and held his hand. "John, can you hear me," I whispered. John looked at me. He nodded. "Can you walk," I asked. "No," He whispered. I sighed and helped him sit up.

I got up and wet a soft washcloth. I got some peroxide, alcohol, and some bandages and sat back down by John. He had stopped sobbing by now. Paul was seated on the floor beside him, calming him down.

I sat back down by John and pressed the washcloth to his face, wiping his face. I wiped his eyes and smiled. "There," I whispered. I started on his biceps. There were many pricks. I looked at John.

I then started dabbing his arms. John flinched. I glanced up at John and continued cleaning John's arm. I cleaned his arms with alcohol and poured some peroxide on them. John cried out in pain. Paul gasped his hand and held it tightly.

I wrapped some bandages on John's biceps and kissed his cheek. I smiled. "All better," I whispered. John smiled back weakly. I looked down and sighed. "Can you get up," I asked John. He shook his head. I looked at Paul.

Paul nodded and got up. He bent down and lifted John into his arms. John nuzzled his face into Paul's chest and clutched onto Paul's shirt for dear life. He started softly crying again. Paul walked to his and John's room and sat on the bed with John still in his arms.

Paul started humming softly and rocked John back and forth like a baby. I sat down on the bed and stroked John's hair softly. John closed his eyes. John's crying subsided and his breathing eventually evened out. "I think he's asleep," I said quietly.

Paul nodded and gently laid John down on his bed. I kissed John's forehead and looked at Paul. Paul silently walked out the door. I sat on the edge of John's bed. "Dammit John," I whispered, stroking John's forehead.

John shifted and opened his almond shaped brown eyes. He frowned and looked round till his eyes were set on me. "Windy, what happened," He groaned, trying sit up. John cried out in pain, his muscles sore from the heroin. "Shh, stay down," I whispered, helping him lay back down.

John clenched his teeth in pain. I stroked John's sweaty forehead. I sighed. "You took some heroin," I answered quietly. John nodded. "I was sad, Windy," He said, barely audible. I nodded.

"It's alright, John," I said. John nodded. I grasped his hand. "Please don't scare me or Paul like that again, John," I said. John looked down. He nodded. "Can you take me back," John asked. I thought about it for a minute.

John, being three years older than me, was sure acting my age. I looked at John's pleading face. His eyes were begging and wanting. I sighed. "Okay, John," I said. "One more chance."

Well, almost two years after that, he's had many more than one more chance. I don't know. I might give him one more...