Hello, viewers. Remember this? It has been quite a while...I have to be in a certain mood to write chapters for this story. It's weird. Anyway, here it is. Don't get your hopes up for a quick update. Whenever I try to rush this story, I end up with a load of crap.
Well, I noticed my portrayal of Cynthia turned a lot of heads. Two words, people: Fan. Fiction. If you want my honest opinion of Cynthia, read Lost and Found. She is amazing and deserved a lot better than John. What he did to her was awful on so many levels. All I needed was a big bad guy and Cynthia had the most motivation. Even though I HIGHLY doubt she would do it in real life. Hey, there also is no Ekaterina Petrovia (except in my head). I'm screwing with reality here anyway :)
Which brings me to my final point. Someone pointed out way in chapter one that Ekaterina's last name would probably be Petrovia, as opposed to Petrov, which is what it used to be. So I inserted it and the whole shish kabob flowed much better. So that is officially her last name.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles
My head is pounding as I come around. It takes a few seconds for my surroundings to register. I am in a dark room, handcuffed. Due to the shaking, I would guess a train. Oh, член палаты лордов, they're taking me back.
Minutes blur to hours, hours blur to days. I am released to use the restroom and to eat minimal amounts of food, but I am otherwise constrained to this room.
"Боже, помоги мне. Помогите мне пожалуйста," I pray quietly. There isn't much else to do here. Just sit and think and pray. Did John have anything to do with this? No. John wouldn't do this to me. At least, I don't think he would. Nothing is certain anymore.
It is cold. Very cold. Like Siberia in winter. It would not surprise me if that is where we are right now, actually. So I huddle in a ball to conserve every bit of heat that I can. There is no way they would bother to put heating in a car intended to carry prisoners. Which is what I am. A prisoner. What a gruff word...prisoner.
Sensation has been long gone from my limbs when we stop and I am dragged from the car to a blissfully heated concrete building. Normally I would be scared but I'm too cold to care right now.
Another cell, although it is a much more comfortable temperature. I get food and water and am left to sit. A few more days pass before I am summoned.
I glimpse myself in a mirror. All weight I had put on in London is gone, my hair is tangled and my clothes are dirty. But I do not see someone who has been defeated. I may be beaten yet I am still fighting.
"Hello, Miss Petrovia," a heavyset man approaches me with an accent very similar to my own.
"Who are you?" I glare daggers at him. "You have no right to abduct me."
He laughs. "No right! You, child, attempted to flee the loving, welcoming arms of our mother country! Left behind your brothers and sisters for England."
The contempt he places on the last word is unmistakable. I scowl and glare daggers at him.
"They will come for me," A lie. We both know it. No one is coming. No one could.
"To answer your first question, I am Maximillion. That is all you need to know," he walks towards me. I refuse to move, not a millimeter. I will not give him the pleasure of scaring me.
"Did you know you were followed?" Maximillion sits behind a desk, gesturing for me to sit down as well. I refuse.
"Who?" the strain is evident on my face, I am sure.
"A man by the name of John Lennon. You have made friends," he leans forward, gesturing to a guard. The guard disappears behind a corner and returns a second later, dragging John with him.
"Kat," he whispers, trying to pull himself free from the man who is obviously much stronger than him.
"John, stop."
Cynthia walks behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. John flinches away as I stare angrily at the woman.
"Get away from me," he snarls. I feel a bit of pride and perhaps...hope. No, hope is completely inappropriate for these circumstances. There is no chance of escape this time.
"But John, you belong with me. I was saving you from that Soviet...bitch," Cynthia tries to kiss him but John pushes her away.
"She is a better woman than you will ever be," he growled. I glare at Cynthia again.
"Well...she...you..." Cynthia sputters before regaining her wits. "Fine! You can have that bitch. See if I care!"
She thankfully storms out, leaving only myself, John and Maximillion.
"Well, Ekaterina. Claiming John Lennon's heart as well. You have been most busy indeed," he stands and circles me.
"Let us go," I growl. Maximillion laughs again.
"I'm sorry, child, but I cannot do that. I will give you one minute to say goodbye to your lover," he storms out. The instant he is gone, John's arms are around me and his lips are feverishly meeting mine.
"John-" he cuts me off.
"No time," he whispers. He is right. I wrap my arms around his neck and meet his lips with equal passion. Oh, if we could only have more time...
Someone is pulling me away from John, but I don't care. All that matters is staying with him. Someone is crying no, and it crosses my mind that it may be me. John is fighting to, reaching for me. Our lips meet one last time, one last memory before he is cruelly ripped from me.
I am vaguely aware that I am being shoved in my cell again. As soon as the door slams shut, I do the thing I swore never to do. I curl up in a ball and cry like I have lost a portion of my soul, which, in a way, I have.
Just out of curiosity, did anyone see that coming? I had planned that out for ages...anyway, review, review, review, thank you all for following this, despite my awful way of updating this.