Sin & Savior

CHAPTER 6, PART 6

There she stood, an uncompromising beauty with a burden to bear. 6'2", brunette, with wide hips, a strong, broad back, supple, middling breasts, and a mountain of anxious insecurity laid squarely upon her back and shoulders. When she walked into the lobby of Concord Intensive Care, with beads of sweat slicking themselves against her forehead and neck, it was all she could do to keep herself from catastrophizing her poor brother's future. What if he became impotent as a result of this ordeal, or—worse yet—entirely dysfunctional? Her mind did not want to think of the psychological horror he'd wind up experiencing as a victim of the type of trauma that came with functional loss of one's manhood and essence.

With panicked steps, she spake in a soft, sincere tone to the receptionist and ensured that it was clear Alex was suffering an unanticipated bout of priapism, but that they had no idea as to its creation or onset, and that—as far as they'd both become aware—he hadn't taken any suspicious medications or recently incurred any dramatic dietary changes that would've given them a smoking gun in the direction of the problem's cause. They were lost, and they both knew the potential for tragedy in the whole of the situation, but rather than discuss the outcome neither of them wanted, they stayed silent—Alex, wheeled in his chair, and Seraphina stood astutely, although forlorn, behind him.

As the receptionist stepped into the back office to intercom nurses to the lobby to situate Alexander into the emergency or operating room, Seraphina immediately took notice of an atmospheric change so powerful it felt like a punch to her gut: snickers and softened laughter echoing itself in the direction away from her current position, step by step. He was laughing at Alexander, and she was not going to stand for anyone leaning on invidious behavior in the face of her brother's situation; he, her family, and their fate are not some joke to tell his gaggle behind closed doors.

"PARDON ME?!" she shouted after him. "WHAT WAS THAT?!"

"Oh..." he said, his flush face suddenly going pale before clearing his throat in his fist. "Sorry... I... I'll be right back," he said before turning and walking away again.

She was livid but powerless to stop anything he'd say or do beyond her scope of sight. By proxy, she understood it. Anyone having priapism, while conceptually amusing for obvious reasons, was contextually inappropriate. The reality of Alexander's situation was far more dire: if something were to go wrong, her brother's entire life was subject to a kind of jeopardy she couldn't clearly or capably comprehend. And, at the very best, he would require surgery, or some form of bloodletting to rid himself of the problem. Neither outcome would be good, but they were stuck between a rock and a hard place with no other way out but through, and the sooner he was capable of being treated, the better.

Unfortunately, in the face of her own ephemeral interests, the receptionist returned to the lobby with a rapturous gang of nursing staff—6 members in all, and all laughing hysterically though trying to control their noise level the closer and closer they'd inched towards Alexander and Seraphina.

"So... a little penile tissue issue with you?" she laughed. "Little 'Step-sis' action going on back at home, eh?" The first woman said, entirely unprofessionally whilst playfully elbowing the nearby air, to everyone in the vicinity's rambunctious applause.

Seraphina couldn't believe what she'd heard. Immediately, her inner athlete dove into the fray, sprinting her forward into her face: a badly built female nurse with the makings of an attitude problem, ego on high, and a blood pressure count even higher. She glanced quickly at the nametag on her lapel: "Araceli Reyes".