"Marcus Thompson! You should be a dead man. Who does a 100+ mph, without breaks?"
"Your car had exploded. How you still made it out on time..."
"Aaaaahh!" Marcus muscles stretched with pain, drowning the words Dr Phy spoke without empathy.
These were the worst spasms he had since he regained consciousness. The pains made his cheeks wet with tears, he didn't even know he was crying.
"Lyn, shoot up tramadol by 2mls. These pains should have been gone by now. It's been six weeks since his surgery..."
"Six weeks?" Marcus Thompson, squinted his eyes against the bright silhouette coming from the window opposite where he laid. An echo in a distant made his head hurt. He tried to warm his head with his hand, but could not.
"Easy!" A hand, soft but firm clamped around his arm. You won't be able to do simple things too soon, Mr Marcus. A soft voice spoke close to his ears. Her fingers running through his face in quick rhythms.
Lyn had never come across such a strong willed patient before.
Marcus did not only fight the pains jabbing through his body, but he also fought instructions from Dr Phyl and his team.
Ignoring her advice, Marcus beaked his head left as though building strength to sit up. His hand was perspiring, worse, it was shaking. His heart pounded heavily, he thought it would pop. Without warning, a muscle at his upper thigh, jerked so painfully, he fell back down with a thud, letting out a rasping cry.
"God!" Marcus muttered, biting his lips quickly.
His strength was sapped, vanished, and without reserve.
Your chest and face are set with bandage, Dr Phyl started carefully. Your mind is all you have now. Your will to live, saved you, you know. You should let it heal you too. Dr Phyl continued, with firm, barely restrained voice.
Marcus obeyed instantly.
He knew he needed all the strength he could muster to heal. It was bad enough he wrestled with these pain piercing through all corners. He could see his chest was bound with bondage, and his stomach felt tight. He had never felt so helpless in all his 25 years of life.
"Set! Was this what they meant?" he murmured breathlessly.
He wanted to talk, but that too needed strength, and he didn't have any. Dr Phyl was right. If it took his will to still drag breathe into his nostrils, then he needed it to leave this place.
How he got here was still a mystery. The last thing he remembered was the feel of...
"Aaaaaahhh!" Marcus winced in pain again. His muscles were burning . He stiffened his back ,and with great effort, raised himself back up for the third time that evening. " Lyn, l think you need to increase that thing to a hundred... Aaaaaahhh!"
"Lay back down Marcus, you don't even know what that means. Your body is still to weak to take such dose. You must rest now." Dr Phyl warned. He didn't like his tone, but he needed this stubborn patient of his to get well soon.
Having Marcus in his hospital, was a big break in his medical career.
He knew the CEO of Bluebird NewYork, long before he built his hospital in Baltimore, but he never had imagined in his entire ambitious life, that he would some day, one day, save the life of the most influential, wealthy man in NewYork.
Running a reconstructive surgery on him, was a milestone, and he needed to be careful dealing with him too. The arrogant Marcus Thompson he knew, cared for no one except himself. He carried an air of tact and immortality as if nothing bad could ever happen to him...
In a hush of victory, Dr Phyl smiled inwardly.
"You had 1500 stitches and 40 skin grafts. Two puncture wounds above your arm, missed a pulsating artery and you were lucky to have a sturdy seat belt around you that held your chest in a good position."
"The impact of the accident should have broken a bone or two and damaged several vital organs, but you came out unscathed, except for your face." Dr Phyl finished with a sigh that made Lyn squeal silently with joy.
Between feeling sorry for Marcus and being overwhelmed by the success of his surgery, the latter was more ethical, his thought, dripping with sarcasm.
"We will be taking the cast off your face the day after tomorrow Mr Marcus. Because your face was totally reconstructed, l am afraid you might not look the same again...!"
A loud thump followed by soft sobs then silence, long enough it made Dr Phyl and Lyn check the monitor over Marcus' head to see if the lines reading his heart were still in rhythm.
In a moment, Lyn feared he might have had an attack, but the gentle rise and fall of his chest put her mind to rest.
"Lyn, keep an eye on him. Drs Stewart and Mason will be here tomorrow instead. There would be no need delaying this further. I'll ring them immediately."
The lines on Dr Phyl's face deepened and his face grew pale. He couldn't risk any more temper tantrums from Marcus.
His job here was done. He thought to grant a press conference to announce this ground breaking event to the world, but it vanished as quickly as it came.
He'd rather prefer Mr Marcus give him the honors by the time he sees how pleasantly different he looked. A single review from NewYork's wealthiest youngest Billionaire, would take his reputation farther than a thousand press conferences put together.
He must discharge Marcus Thompson in one happy piece. He murmured breathlessly.
He had saved his life and he should be more than grateful, that was all that mattered. He leaned against a marblewall,close to a shelf where Marcus' files were stacked. He stared briefly at him. His eyes were twitched and calmer, but he could swear he saw they were wet with tears. That alone, confused him more.
Arrogance never cries, even in pain. He thought out loud. He reached out for a file, wrote some prescription, and handed it to Lyn.
"Be sure to give him his drugs on time. Hand over properly to Stacy when your shift is done."
"There'll be no need for that Dr Phyl. I'll stay. Lyn said with purring softness. Her eyes showing deep interest in Marcus more than the fatigue plaguing her body.
"He is our most valuable patient Lyn. Don't let your guards down." Dr Phyl said flatly, sensing the crush she had on him.
"I won't shame you Dr Phyl." Lyn swore and giggled at the same time.
"Marcus Thompson." Dr Phyl said breathlessly in light humor, opening the door that lead to the hallway, away from Marcus' private suite. "Your wealth is trophy to men, as your body is bait to women. What a man!"
"Call me if there is any emergency." His voice trailing off as he sauntered along the hallway.
Locked in the privacy she had longed for in more than 24hours, Lyn let out a sigh of both relief and triumph. She needed to stir something in Marcus Thompson—some sort of sultry distraction. A thought she had nursed since she knew who he was.
Walking quietly like a house cat, she reclined beside him, pressing her hip against him enticingly.