I'M NOT YOUR WOMAN. (✓)

28. all i need.

|◁ II ▷|

berwyn — vinyl.

EBÉN'S EYES FLINCHED at the sight of the white-bright lights after spending minutes in his subconscious, surrounded by complete darkness. A struggle between the light and his jaded eyes ensued, as Ebén tried to adjust them to the light.

They folded to a close, which caused him to try again.

In his attempt to get them acclimated to the light, Ebén felt a sharp pain near his... The large quantities of morphine in his body intended to manage the pain of a torn ACL in his knee caused the high-strung athlete's thoughts to jump and assume the worse.

Yo, they cut off my dick? Frantic, Ebén began to claw at his groin in search of his nuts and saw blood.

And a bandage.

He froze, and he had questions — or a pertinent question that had become a matter of life or death and needed answers on why there was blood and who gave their consent to him being neutered.

As though, he was fucking dog.

Ebén's demand for answers landed on cue, as the door into his hospital room was pushed open and in walked a Dr. Priya Batra, Head of Orthopaedics. He wasn't a mind-reader nor had he been acquainted with this particular doctor before, but read her name off her name pin, on the front pocket of her lab coat.

Her hair, in the shade of charcoal black, was swooped to the left in a neat bun with his big spectacles cushioned on the bridge of her nose, "Hi, Mr. Cástro"

"Is this hell?" Ebén said, confused, trying to make sense (albeit under the influence) of what happened to him, as the morphine had made him forget.

"No, you're at the Royal Brampton," Dr. Batra ushered towards him in an effort to calm his frayed nerves, standing near the foot of his bed.

"Somebody chopped off my dick?" Ebén's fingers pointed at his groin, knowing he hadn't mistaken the colour red, stained on the centre of his patient suit.

The temptation that she had to laugh was strong — not at him, but at the fact, he had mispointed thinking that his penis had been nipped.

She reeled it in, rest-assuring him, "Mr. Cástro, the blood is from your knee and not your... penis"

"Oh," Ebén sang out in a slow, drugged-out drawl.

Seconds later, as the door re-opened, both Dr. Batra and Ebén's heads turned to the face and form of anger bubbling, that was Raf. Dr. Batra greeted him with an abject smile, as though she could do without his black shadow being cast over her words.

He seemed to silently warn her that he could do without bad news, "Doc... what's the news?"

Her jade eyes revealed nothing.

"Unfortunately, it is a grade three tear wh — "

Raf interrupted her diagnosis by grabbing clumps of his hair and hissing through his clenched teeth. She paused, not at all liking the presence of this black overcast, "I'm sorry... is there a problem?"

There was, this wasn't what he had the temperament to hear.

"No," said Raf, all tense, "Carry on."

The fortitude he was showing to control his incandescence surprised him.

And surprised Ebén.

She cleared her throat as she postured her body to give the bad news, "The tendon in Ebén has ruptured into two. We anticipate a recovery window of about eight to nine mon — "

"Eight to nine what?" He was sure he misheard.

"Months," She gruffed at him, not a fan of all these stops and starts as it was obvious to the seasoned MD that his only intention was to derail the conversation.

"Can you speed the timeline up a little... it's just that we have a lot of deals riding on Eben's fitness?"

"Speed it up?" Dr. Batra felt her lips choke at the absurdity of his question. She wasn't a genie, who by the mere click of her fingers could make Ebén well.

She was a damn good doctor but she was no magician.

"Yeah, maybe... cut a few corners?"

She laughed at the sheer arrogance that fell from Raf's lips that he genuinely believed she could and would move heaven and earth based on his say-so.

"I can't."

Raf did not like to be told no, especially by someone who was unfamiliar with the ins and outs of their world, "I'm sure you can... do somethin"

His hands parted from his pocket and into hers, but she was unwilling to accept such underhanded tactics, "This is a hospital, Mr. Salgado"

"And we need a favour" He was insistent in his urge to get her to accept and prove she was just, if not more, shady as him. But, he grossly underestimated her.

She clenched her fist shut, wanting to keep a hold of her integrity and refused to submit to the dirty politics that Raf was trying to play.

"Your money is no good here, Mr. Salgado."

He added another 500 bill to the wad of cash that he extended to her, thinking she was hinting for more, but her eyes were firm with the word no.

He happed his arms up, accepting defeat, "Okay... so what is your course of action then?"

"We've managed to pencil in surgery on his knee tonight. I'm putting him in touch with a specialist friend who will oversee his rehab," Their eyes had panned back to Ebén who had slowly sobered during their tit for tat — and reluctantly started thinking.

Thoughts of his sporting dreams — crumbling as the lengthy spell of the sidelines was no longer hypothetical but was something that was certain.

He was no good at anything else, that dispirited statement had not come out of his mouth to stir pity, from her, but was a reminder that without football.

Ebén had nothing — he didn't have the world on his shoulders like most presumed. Though, he wasn't always well-meaning, it was his fight or flight response to his childhood trauma.

"She didn't come, did she?"

Ebén knew she hadn't, especially when she was so set in her ways, but thought he might be surprised.

His growl sounded harsh on his musky tongue, stained with bourbon and cigarettes, "No. She didn't and I think this is what you need, Ebén."

"What I need?" Ebén was battling with ache, he didn't need this sting of rejection especially under the pain he was under. He needed her.

[ 12AM – ROYAL BRAMPTON HOSPITAL – SW18 ]

Even in his consciousness, Maya had become a mainstay — thinking of that velvet vibrato that so often put Ebén in his place. He also thought of her nubile, brown form and how their bodies had easily meshed, like she had been made for him.

Hands that were soft ran across his face, "I was so worried about you, Ebén..."

She came?

"B-Baby?" Ebén woozily croaked with his body still encumbered by morphine, "You came"

She came.

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A/N: Guessing time... who do you think has come to pay a visit to Ebén?