Billy Shears

1967

Everyone knew it, yet nobody spoke of it in the group. Paul was dead and had been replaced by Billy Shears. However, this Billy Shears man wasn’t really sane, and he had been taking things in his own hands. He had seemed so strange, especially towards you. You shoved the thoughts aside, just thinking you were just delusional.

But, no. You weren't. Every day since you had come in with that tea tray in studio two, he had become like obsessed with you. He kept a journal in his bag, writing down your every move and expression when you came inside the studio.

You usually took the bike to and from the studio, However, someone had punctured it, which left you no other decision than to walk.

It was Billy. He had punctured the bike on purpose just so he could follow you home and write down your address. He followed a few meters behind you, but you shook the paranoid feeling as just another immature manchild ogling you, which, of course, Billy had every single man who even dared to glance at you written down in the journal as well.

The obsession didn't stop there. First came the bouquets, bouquets of beautiful roses every Tuesday on your doorstep when you came home. The roses never had a name written to them, just a " Love, B♡" written on a small card in red ink.

Then came the letters, love letters and fantasies in gut-wrenching detail. How could someone know all of this about you? You had always thought that exact scentence when reading them

The third and final phase had come today, when at exactly 8:15PM, a knock on your door appeared.

You slowly approached the door, taking a deep breath before opening it.

On the other side stood Billy, a sinister grin on his face.

"Ello, love! could I come in for a second? I need to talk to you about something."

He spoke, his kind act barely masking his blatant insanity.