The next two days passed by, and the only place I had only gone was from my flat to my work and back home. I felt terrified of everything, I had even begged to get taken off the night shift and onto the day shift just to avoid walking in the dark on my own.

Each morning for the next three days I walked along the sidewalk to work, trying to cover my arms and neck where the bruises were a deep purple and black colour. I had hung my head low practically shaking in fear I'd run into, him, again.

Tuesday soon came and I knew although I wasn't up to it, I couldn't cancel on Paul McCartney, it was practically unheard of. Not only that, but I couldn't just stay at home wallowing in my sorrows for the rest of my life, I didn't want Oliver to have even taken my joy away from me.

I decided to wear a black long sleeve turtleneck to cover up any bruises on my arms neck and body paired with a brown suede miniskirt along with some black ankle boots.

Once again, I headed for the "emergencies only" baggie like I had been quite often ever since Friday night, and rolled myself a small joint, just enough to calm my nerves.

Just as I sat down on my couch inhaling a deep breath of the smoke, I heard who I assumed to be Paul knocking at the door.

I jumped up and snuffed out the joint, trying to wave the smoke out from the air frantically.

I opened the door to see Paul dressed in a casual blazer with a striped shirt underneath and dress pants, holding a beautiful bouquet of red roses in his hands in front of him.

His eyes lit up as he saw me, but was soon focused on the fog that was throughout my apartment behind me with a small smirk.

"Want a smoke?" I asked awkwardly seeing his fixation on the fumes as he took a deep breath, inhaling the scent.

"Love one." He smirk grew as I opened the front door for him to enter.

"These are for you." He smiled shyly extending the bouquet out toward me as he stepped inside.

"Thank you." I blushed as he began to take in his surroundings.

I became slightly embarrassed, it wasn't that my apartment was messy or unkept, but it was rather small and I hadn't much in it. Most of my furniture was just the odd things I could find for a decent price. I had many plants around the apartment and some tapestries on the walls, along with many candles lit to keep the flat somewhat lit without electricity.

"Congratulations on the record." I praised as I went into the kitchen to grab a vase with water to put the flowers in.

"Thanks love, I really think it's one of our best so far." He grinned widely.

"I heard that one, Eleanor Rigby on the radio," I trailed off with a smile as I filled the vase with water at the tap.

"What did you think?" He asked walking over to the counter in the kitchen, watching me attentively.

"I loved it, it was beautifully written and made." I beamed making a smile appear on his lips.

His gaze stuck on me seductively for a moment, making me shift uncomfortably, reminding me of the look on Oliver's face last Friday.

"I'll be right back." I cleared my throat, excusing myself to go grab a smoke I had previously rolled out from my nightstand.

As I walked back to Paul in the kitchen, I put the joint in my mouth letting it hang out lazily, flicking my lighter on and lighting it as I walked, taking in a deep inhale of the smoke.

I handed it to Paul with a smile who took it happily, taking a hit of it himself.

I began to giggle for no particular reason as I watched him blow out a big white cloud of smoke.

He smiled at me in amusement.

"How much have you smoked?" He asked jokingly, passing the joint back to me.

I inhaled it with a small smile and snickered while blowing it back out.

"I can't remember." I giggled harder, handing it back to him.

I don't think I'd been sober much these past few days because of how terrible I felt without it. It numbed me from feeling scared and helpless after what had happened.
______________

Soon Paul and I decided to go to our dinner reservations, Paul driving the two of us and refusing to tell me where we were going.

"Does it start with "Pi" and end with "zza"?" I questioned in the passenger seat with a vacant expression, staring off into space.

"For the last time we aren't going out for pizza." Paul giggled glancing over in my direction with amusement his bloodshot brown eyes.

As I turned my head to look at him, we both began to giggle uncontrollably.

A few minutes passed and he had pulled up to a very fancy looking restaurant.

"We're eating here?" I blurted wide eyed staring out of the window gawking at the sight.

"Yeah." Paul spoke meekly as he got out of the car.

He rushed around the car and helped me out, holding onto my hand and keeping it there even after I was out safely.

He handed the keys to the valet and we walked through the front doors.

"You didn't have to do all this." I whispered in his ear feeling guilty that he'd spent money to come here with me.

"I wanted to." He grinned goofily looking back to me as we walked up to the host's stand greeting the older man who stood at it.

"Reservations for McCartney." Paul spoke happily breaking away from my hand, the man nodding after he'd looked through the list.

I followed along behind Paul and the man leading us to our seats, looking around in awe at the immaculate decor of black and white everything and outrageous chandeliers, seeing men in full tuxes and women in evening gowns. Paul and I stuck out like two sore thumbs.

I tried not to think about the dirty looks we received from higher end middle aged men and women eating their overpriced meals as we walked.

We were lead to a small intimate table illuminated with dim candle lighting. We sat down across from each other and I felt stunned by this whole diner, we'd somehow gone from smoking pot in my apartment to being in a classy establishment in less than twenty minutes.

I remembered it was for the celebration of the Revolver album, so I suppose he wanted to put his money from his record sales to use.

I was still looking around wide eyed when Paul chuckled at me.

"I thought it would be nice to go out somewhere fancy to celebrate." He smiled looking around.

"I would've dressed a little bit better if I would've known." I looked at him slightly embarrassed.

"What's wrong with what you're wearing? I dig it." Paul smiled, his eyes scanning over my outfit momentarily.

I blushed looking down.

The server came back to take our orders and we talked more about music and our mutual interest in general, discussing our views on marijuana and other drugs like LSD, which Paul told me had heavily influenced the Revolver album.

I hadn't ever tried acid, but I wasn't opposed to it, Paul talked very highly of it as a way to expand the mind.

Before we knew it, whether it was because of how hungry the cannabis had made us or not, we'd finished our meals and the waiter came with our cheque.

Paul wouldn't even let me look at the cost of the meal, and although I offered to pay him back he'd declined stubbornly.

"I heard Keith Moon is having a party tonight, d'you fancy coming with me?" He asked casually after he'd payed.

"K-Keith M-M-Moon?" I stuttered eagerly.

I cleared my throat.

"Sounds fine." I corrected myself with the same nonchalant attitude he'd used.

Paul bit his lip to hold back a grin.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Paul mused playfully getting up from his seat.

I followed suit getting up from my seat, the two of us beginning to walk to the front door.

"Mr. McCartney, there's some reporters with cameras who wish to speak with you outside." The host interrupted is just as we were about to step through the doors.

Paul turned around quickly, his face draining of colour.

"Is there any way to have the car brought around back?" He inquired, his voice cracking slightly looking extremely tense.

The host nodded and lead us to the back of the restaurant through the kitchen.

I questioned to myself why he seemed so private all of a sudden when he hadn't a problem walking in the park with me just the other day. I didn't see the harm in a couple of photographs, although maybe Paul did. It wasn't my place to say anyhow, they wanted to see him, not me.

Maybe it was that my mind was foggy with marijuana, but I felt suddenly paranoid, like he didn't want to be seen with me.
                         ____________

We had soon gotten into his car safely and to Keith Moon's party, immediately walking into the house roaring with free spirited nonconformists who were tripping on all sorts of wonder drugs.

There was a thick blanket of smoke across the dark house and the boisterous sound of psychedelic music was blasting loudly as people sang and danced everywhere, filling the entire house, which was saying a lot considering the size of the house.

Paul held my hand as he lead me through a crowd of people dancing to where some people were filling themselves drinks.

From the corner I swore I spotted Mick Jagger and I nearly lost my mind.

"Can I get you something?" Paul asked looking through the bottles of alcohol after letting go from my hand.

"N-no thanks." I stuttered out having a flash back of Oliver for what seemed like the millionth time.

"Alright." Paul smiled to me before pouring himself a glass.

"Paul!" I heard someone yell excitedly.

Before my eyes I saw Peter Asher from Peter and Gordon walk over to greet Paul.

I stared at him wide eyed, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. I gawked at his bright red hair and glasses in amazement.

"Hey Peter." Paul greeted hesitantly.

"Did you just get here? I didn't see you come in." He asked throwing a glance my way causing me to look away quite obviously with a red tint in my cheeks.

It was so wild to see familiar faces that I had only ever heard or read about up close.

I wondered if his sister Jane would be here, I loved her work in the movie "Alfie" that I'd watched in the theatre back in March of this year.

They began talking, but I didn't listen to much considering it was just some small talk. I looked around the room searching for more familiar faces.

From the crowd I saw Ringo emerging with a charming smile.

He waved looking in my direction causing me to look around myself to see who he was waving at.

"Me?" I asked pointing to myself realizing Paul hadn't been looking at him and there was no one else around.

He nodded smiling goofily as he walked closer.

"Hello Charlie." Ringo greeted kindly.

"Hey Ringo." I beamed.

"Here with Paulie?" He smirked, his eyes shifting to Paul and Gordon, his expression dropping slightly as he did so.

"Yeah." I replied with a furled brow.

"What d'you have there?" I asked looking down at his hand which contained a small box.

His smirk grew once again, looking mischievous.

He opened it to reveal little paper-like looking squares with designs on them.

I looked up to his face for clarification.

"LSD." He clarified.

Paul's hand slithered around my back and grabbed one of the squares having been done talking to Peter.

"You want one?" Ringo asked as Paul looked between the two of happily holding the drug between his fingers.

"Sure." I spoke naively taking one from him and looking at the odd moon and star pattern on it, swallowing hard.

Paul smiled at me and held out his hand for me to hold. I put my hand in his and he gave it a small reassuring squeeze.

"On three," Ringo nodded at the both of us holding one to his mouth.

"Three." Paul interrupted suddenly, the three of us taking it immediately.

I couldn't tell you much of what happened after that.

It was a haze of bright colours and psychedelic images. The music seemed better and an array of kaleidoscopic images appeared every time I closed my eyes. Paul, Ringo and I must've looked absolutely insane as we walked around the party wide eyed like we'd never seen, anything, before.

I couldn't tell you exactly when or how, but at some point in the night Paul and I had ended up in a room alone beginning to get hot and heavy as we kissed, Paul picking me up and bringing me over to the bed, immediately turning my good trip into a bad trip, anxiety filling me as Paul began to place a trail of kisses down my face and onto my neck.

The images of bright colours turned scary and dark, my breathing becoming heavy and my heart rate pounding as the worst feeling began eating at me as I thought about last Friday.

I tried to remember that I would be safe with Paul, but as he began to lift my shirt up I freaked out, crying out in agony and getting up, stumbling out of the room, tears running down my face, feeling like I was trapped and suffocating.

I heard Paul call after me but soon it became distant, the dark voices in my head blocking everything out.

I felt like I was continually falling with no end, until eventually, everything turned to black.