paper crown (been rewritten better under the name "Wonderwall - mclennon")

chapter 16

pauls pov

my eyes stayed glued to my bare feet in shame as the three nurses around me weighed and measured me. they would lift my arms up, despite my attempts to jerk my arms back down and stop them touching me, wrap a bright yellow tape around my big arms and then finally let them drop to my sides again. only to grab other body parts and repeat the process. it was humiliating, completely and utterly humiliating. but that wasn't even the worse part. the worse part was the questions they asked. constantly prodding me with uncensored questions as to why I'm like this.  

I know the poor girls are just doing their job. but I don't like it at all. it isn't just my health that's on the line here. it's my career. it's my social life. its how society sees me. if I told them I starved myself to be skinny within days it'll be in all the papers, changing how the world views me forever. if I don't tell them perhaps they'll blame it on the rumored drug use of the Beatles. I don't know really. I guess ill just have to deny everything.

they took a pee sample as soon as I had woken up to test for drugs. explaining that it would show if any drugs had been in my system for 24 hours. fortunately for me id been drug-free, save for some paracetamol to numb the pain of hunger for over a week now. on an empty stomach, any drugs make me feel sick.

"Ok Mr. McCartney, results are in."

The main nurse caring for me, well the one who was around the most anyway, came into the room holding a few cream coloured files in her hands. this ought to be the test results. Two nurses ushered me to some seats in the corner of the private room. because of me, though i don't really like saying it, popularity and condition I was put in a private room in hopes ill come clean with my play in why I was like this along with not 'disturbing' the other patients as the nurses put it. the head nurse took a seat on the visitor chair across from me before nodding to the other nurses to ask for some privacy. they left the room before she began speaking.

"well. you sure have caused a commotion as you're clean of all drugs."

She started. occasionally looking up from the files at me. I nodded as if I had expected it to be the answer.

"so, no one knows what has happened to you. now. not to stress you out but it is suspected that it is something to do with you consciously doing something, possibly subconsciously, that's made you dramatically drop weight."

I didn't butt in as she spoke. just solemnly nodding as she explained everything to me. its as if it was how this hospital communicated. just grabbing my limbs and nodding instead of speaking. as if they were trying to hide my own body from myself like I wouldn't understand it.

"we cant urge you to tell us anymore as your body is under enough stress as it is but what we think is the best solution is both therapy and meetings with a dietician."

now that didn't seem half bad. would a therapist tell the press even if I did tell them, not that I would its just I feel like a therapist who trained to deal with things like this would be able to read through the lines very easily? they wouldn't be able to snitch by law though wouldn't they? I'm not too educated on these things. and a dietician, i don't need to listen to them really unless what they're saying will keep me skinny.

"aight, noted."

I mumbled quietly. waiting for her to go into more detail. the nurse tapped the filed against the tables to make them straight again before opening her mouth to speak. the door opening stopped her before she could.

in the doorway stood a short nurse who had been one of the girls weighing me before. what did she need to do now?

"um Mr. McCartney, Mr. Lennon is here to see you. can I let him in?"

she asked. as soon as the words were spoken I got a foreign feeling in my chest. like both a rope had been twisted around it and it was expanding. I didn't like it at all. why did he want to see me after for badly I treated him last night? perhaps he wanted to confront me. i couldn't do that right now. no. no. no.

"deep breaths mr.mccartney."

the nurse sat across from me calmly encouraged. immediately making me hold my breath to disguise how frantically my heart was making me breathe. i hadn't even noticed until she pointed it out but I suppose I was distracted by the shock of John being here.

"deep breaths. don't hold it or it'll get worse."

she said again. I tried to breathe as calmly as I could through only my nose before I shook my head. i didn't want Lennon here. he can yell later. I hate it here enough as it is.

"no? no, what no visitors?"

the shorter nurse asked. her voice like the other women, professional. I nodded.

"ok then Mr. McCartney, ill tell him you'll give him a call if you change your mind?"

she asked, earning a small nod from me. I doubted id call. the woman left the room leaving me and the main nurse alone again.

"as I was saying. you would have to meet with the therapist two times a week, we can fit it around your work schedule and they'll be around 1 hour long each, though there's no set time limit. after a few months if your situation improves it will be changed to once a week and so on till you no longer need therapy. the dietician will speak to you once a week and do all check-ups as well as speaking to some people you give the names of who have some control over your food intake. does that sound good?"

"yes. it does."

I know i didn't have much of a choice. one way or another it would become public knowledge of what my 'treatment' is. but it doesn't mean you'll know what happens at the treatments. they cant share that because of legal shit.

here's a form. will you please fill it in for the next hour?"

she asked. I nodded yet again before she left me alone to fill the form in.

/form/dietician

name: James McCartney, Paul

dob: 18th June 1942

*insert address and all those numbers here*

I give permission for: Brian Epstein, James McCartney to be informed of my diet requirements by dr. davies.

signature: Paul McCartney

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thank you for reading and sorry I haven't updated in forever. I got Grammarly so enjoy slightly fewer mistakes in my writing (though this story is one big mistake). that form isn't a real thing and this treatment technique is made up by me as something I considered plausible for this story. I tried to do research but I couldn't find any information on how they dealt with it in the 60s or even now for that matter.

I'm taking prompts for another story rn so please comment any suggestions in you have any. I have two joint stories btw that you should check out (one is still in the making) the_fab_four9

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