George opened his eyes, slowly, at that. The walls around him were very white and blank, almost as though they were blinding to his eyes. He wanted so bad to yell out, "Hey, where am I?" but the words caught in his throat. He needed water. For sure. Where was it?

George was panicking. Why am I panicking? It's just water. It's just water. But I need water right now... 

George tried to get up and off of the bed. But there was a sharp pain in his back that prevented him from doing so. He cried out in agony and then soon realized that his arm was covered in plaster, the hospital kind. 

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

It was the hospital.

"Why the hell am I-" George tried to yell, but it barely came out in a whisper, and the words caught in his throat once again. He wanted to get out of there.

Just then, the door burst open and in came John, followed by Paul and Ringo. Brian followed after Ringo as well.

"Why am I even here?" George rasped, coughing.

"George, when you fell from the rope, you passed out and you had a number of... ahem-" Brian said.

"I'm so bloody sorry, George, it was all my fault," John gasped.

"It's okay, John," George said shakily. No, it isn't.

"It's my fault, too," Paul said.

"I'm really sorry, too, George," Ringo said. 

I wish I could forgive you, said a voice at the back of George's head. 

"What did I have a number of?" George asked instead.

"Calamities," Brian said, a concerning look appearing on his face.

"Can we go home?" George asked.

"Not yet," said Brain. "He'll check on you in a bit and see if you're ready to go home."

"Can I have water?" George asked. The pain in his back was growing incredibly and a headache swelled. Even worse, he seemed panicky about everything. 

"Sure, I'll get it-" Paul leaped for the door. 

George wiped the sweat from his face. Was he ever going to be back on tour again, back to the studios? Back to making music? 

That thought haunted his mind like death. Why? It seemed to get on his nerves more than anything. 

"Here you go, George," Paul came in with some water. He looked frantic.

"All right, boys, we have to go," Brian said, checking his watch. "We have an interview to do."

"Brian..." John pleaded.

"We can't leave George alone," Ringo and Paul said in unison.

"I understand, but we have an interview scheduled and it's too late to cancel," Brian pressed. "Come on, lads."

"All right," John gave up. "Take care, George. We'll be back as soon as possible."

"Yeah." George felt jittery, on edge.

"Take care, George," chorused Brian, Paul, and Ringo.

"Yeah."

No.