Chapter Text
“Paul is dead?”
I thought it was absurd. I clearly was alive. But the more time I spent in bed, the more I started to understand. Sure, my lungs were working despite the nicotine, but I was still dead. Dead in a sense to the world. Dead in a sense to my poor, poor family. I had- No, have, a wonderful wife, beautiful daughter, and a newborn. Yet, I still chose to rot in the disgusting sheets of my queen.
I’m waiting to be saved, really. Linda has tried, bless her heart, but she can’t prioritize me, a twenty-seven-year-old-wash-up, over a baby. It’s not like I blame her. Not in the slightest. Dunno why she hasn’t kicked me out yet. Something like “Heather has had one father walk out, she doesn’t need another.”
Poor girl.
The phone is practically teasing me. Ooo call… I know you wanna…. I hate the bloody thing. Don’t think he’d even pick up. He hates me. Him and her. Never just John nowadays, No. It’s JohnandYoko JohnandYoko JohnandYoko JohnandYoko. Maybe all that heroin she’s got him hooked on made him slur his words. Yeah. Let’s go with that. Heroin is the reason he left. That happens in marriages, doesn’t it? Not just the leaving, but the whole addiction part. I’d be a hypocrite if I said I didn’t have my own vices, but I'm not on bloody heroin!
Whatever. I'm planning to take the stupid phone and bash it apart in the fields. All it does is harm, I swear! Stupid bloody phone…
Birds chirp outside. I wish they would shut up for once. God, I’m such a pessimistic lump now.
Mary starts to cry, I better go get her. She’s the only reason I get out of bed. My feet pad down the hall to her room. As I open the door, I see Linda with her. “Oh, I didn’t know you were in here.” She looks up at me weakly and hums “I’ve been in here all night, Paul.” I pause.
“Why?”
“You cried when I brushed your arm. I can’t sleep next to that.” She pouts.
“That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think? I would never.” She knows, doesn’t she? I thought I hid it well enough. Oh my legs hurt too much, I’ll just do my arms!. What an idiot. Mary starts crying again. Finally, a distraction. “Shh.. Shh..” Linda soothes. It takes everything in me to not pull my baby into my arms.
“She’s still crying.” Her brows furrow “I can tell.” “Then do something about it, Lin.” I don’t mean to upset her, not really, but I’d rather her be mad than worried. Mary is practically shoved into my arms OW! Right into fresh cuts. Great. Linda sighs, head hung low and disappointed “Why are you like this?--”. She stops as she sees my flinch.
“Paul.”
“Hm?”
“Paul.”
“What, Lin?”
“Why’d you do that.” It wasn’t a question, she already knows. My shirt feels too tight, choking. She’s seen this coming. I ignore her, rocking Mary in my arms.
“You’re alright.”
“Paul.”
“Shh..Shh..”
“Paul.”
Mary stops crying “See? I made her stop–” “Paul!” I know that look. I know it too well. It’s the same one my father gave me when I was caught sneaking out to Mendips. “Give me Mary.” she says sharply. Obeyingly, I hand her over. My arms are shaking, maybe that’s why she didn’t want me holding an infant.
“Why’d you ignore me.”
“I didn’t.” Her eyes scan across me, untrusting. “Then I’ll ask again: why did you flinch.” It’s good to lie, always is. “You shoved a baby into my arms.” I can practically see the timebomb inside her, waiting to blow. One wrong move and she’ll throw away my razors. Good. Don’t need ‘em anyway. “I do that all the time, Paul. Seriously, if you’re going to lie to me, do a good job at it.” What…? She didn’t believe me? People always believe me! Why!?
“I see. I’ll be honest,” No I won’t. “I bumped myself the other day while playing with Heather and now it hurts.”
“You could’ve just said.” She takes the bait.
The phone sits on my bedside. Call me… Call me… It’s pathetic. Why do I even want him to call? He has a wife, his prized possession. He thinks she's the best thing since sliced bread! Whatever. I don’t care. I'm not jealous, not one bit.
I don’t have to get out of bed anymore, I had my ten minutes of human interaction. That’s enough, surely.
What would my mother think of me? Oh, Mary… Disgust. That’s what she would feel. I know Da felt it. All those nights he would find John in my room. He thought I was queer or something….Im not, by the way.
The sun sets into night. Vast darkness pools against the window beside my bed. Linda reads beside me, before she sighs and puts her book down.
“Paul?”
I look over, smiling softly “Yes, dear?”
She moves closer “Why were you such a dick this morning? You’ve been like this for a while…” Great. I made her upset. “Oh, Lin, I didn’t mean to make you sad.” A frown stretches across her face “You can’t just do that in front of me and the girls, Paul.” The girls. My daughters. I made them upset. She leans in, whispering in my ear “You scared them..”
The feeling bubbles in my throat, clawing its way out. Before I know it, I get up from the mattress and look over my shoulder.
“...I’ll be in the bath.” With that, I leave.
I find myself outside. Why did I say bath? We don’t even have a bath! “Idiot! Idiot!” my fist curls and slams into my temple. No. Stop it, Paul. Get a hold of yourself, you can’t leave visible marks. I wander in the cool night air to the shed, just a little wooden thing I put up a few months ago, but it works. When I go in, I lock the door. Can’t let Linda see. Or Heather. Please not Heather.
I see it in the corner. On the last Christmas with the band, George made a stunt of giving me a pack of razors for my beard. Jokes on him though.
Oh, Paul, back so soon again? Need me that bad?
I hear John’s voice. Whether it's the need to have it break my skin or just the need for his warmth, I’m not sure.
Drag.
Drag.
Drag.
Warm copper beads under the metal, pooling out from my skin. Over. And over. And over again. Dry. I feel dry. Like a lemon after juicing. Lemon.. Hm. Well, the bleeding isn’t gonna stop itself. Clean, dress, and there we are! Nobody will know. Ever. Nobody will ever know. Sometimes I wish someone did know. Someone to stop me. I know he would. Maybe that’s just me wishing, praying. I did it during our last year or so, but nobody noticed. Or cared.
I stumble back inside, checking on Heather and Mary before going to bed.
Linda is still awake. “You aren’t wet.”
“I just dried off.” I lie.
“...You’re still dirty” Her eyes pierce me.
I hum, not wanting to put up a fight this late at night. She has enough to deal with, this would only be a burden. I’m a burden. “Why don’t I give you a bath? You clearly can’t clean yourself.” She challenges. No. No no no no no no nonononononononono—
Before I can resist, she is holding my hand softly. “Please, Paul, let me help.” Help. Isn’t that funny? John wrote that because of his issues, and now look at me. Funny indeed.
Linda takes me out to the medal tub in the barn, it was supposed to be a feeding trough or something. “Let’s get you out of these,” her hands go to the hem of my shirt. “You’ve been wearing this for two weeks. Why?” She frowns. “It’s the only texture I can stand..” I can feel my resolve crumbling. This isn’t good. Not good.
Linda lifts off my shirt. As soon as the dirty fabric hits the floor, she cries.
Cuts.Too many to be an accident. Too many to be from anything other than what it was. I’m a tiger. That’s what I said when Heather saw them. That’s what I told her. I’ll never forgive myself.
“Paul…” I can’t even respond.
“What did you do…?”