Revenge of The Furtive Billionaire Heir by Ryker Helios

21. A special allergy?

Numbed down pain.

I

That’s all I feel when I find myself waking up, a low, drawled groan leaving my mouth as I slowly regain

consciousness. My throat is scratchy, and it feels like something died in my mouth. Faintly, I hear a

beeping sound coming next to me, and I slowly turn my head to see what it is.

A machine. A machine to measure my heartbeat, the kind you see in hospital rooms with serious

patients.

Why was I a serious patient, then?

That’s when all the memories came back to me through the haze of my mind.

Stone and his goons. The beating in the cafeteria. Falling unconscious as soon as the security guards

managed to get the attackers off me. Someone screaming the word ‘hospital’ while I faded to black.

Crap.

I use my tired eyes to look around the room. The walls are painted white with accents of light yellow, and

there’s a window. It’s a private room, and there is even a TV mounted in the corner. All around me, there

are various machines taking my reading there’s, and an IV poked into my hand dripping saline. There are

wires hooked onto my chest. Many parts of my body are bandaged.

Just as I end up taking in the room, the door opens, and a nurse strides in. Upon seeing my open eyes,

her face lights up, and she immediately presses a button on the side of the bed.

“Mr. Greyson, I’m glad to see you’re awake,” the nurse greets me with a polite smile and rushes towards

1.

I open my mouth to talk, but my throat and lips are too dry. So, I croak, “water.”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Greyson,” the nurse hastily retrieves some chips of ice from the trolley cart she just

rolled in, “The doctor was anticipating you waking up soon, so she instructed us to be ready. You are due

another change of bandages as well, and we were waiting for you to wake up for it, rather than do it

while you’re unconscious.”

The ice chips on my parched skin feel like heaven, and their moisture trickling down my arid throat finally

loosens up my vocals enough to talk, “what happened? I remember the fight” I ask.

“After you were physically assaulted by five individuals at the King’s College campus grounds, you were

brought into Empire State Hospital. We had to get you into the ER immediately, of course. You were out

cold and bleeding all over the place. One of your assailants used a brass knuckles weapon on you,

bruising your ribs quite badly. You’re very lucky that they aren’t broken. Apart from that, your midriff was

damaged, your left arm was sprained, and your right pinky is broken. It will take quite some time for them

to heal.”

“Why are there wires hooked to me?” I question, confused because I haven’t seen assault victims with

my injuries hooked to machines like this.

The nurse bites her lower lip, “there was a complication with a painkiller we administered to you. Were

you aware that you’re allergic to silver, Mr. Greyson?”

Surprise makes my brows lift to my scalp, “silver?”

“Yes. You were sent into anaphylactic shock as soon as the painkiller medicine was administered, and

we had to operate on you to remove all sorts of silver from your system.”

So, that is why I feel like I’ve been gutted like a fish.

“I didn’t know,” I tell her honestly, “I didn’t know I had any allergies, period.”

“It was not on your medical record either. Perhaps it had recently surfaced, that happens,” the nurse

uses a small controller on the side of my bed to move my head to a more vertical position, and switches

to liquid water. I gulp down the cool fluid gratefully.

Great, now on top of everything, I had a silver allergy and had to have an operation performed on me.

“How long do I have to stay here?” I ask her, trying not to sound too pathetic.

“That is up to the doctor to decide, he will be arriving in a few moments.”

“If you were to estimate based on my condition, how much will it be? Can you give me a number?”

“Sorry, young man, I cannot,” the nurse smiles kindly, “but do not worry. You’re way better now than you.

did before. You will get better soon.”

That was not very believable.

As she told me, a few seconds later the doctor arrives and begins to fuss over me. He asks me for a full

account of what happened at the cafeteria as he checks my bandages and vitals, as well as the readings

on numerous devices. Of course, the doctor also profusely apologizes for the reaction my body had to

silver.

“Such allergies are not unheard of, but extremely rare,” the doctor says as he begins to unwrap the

soiled bandages from my body, “the silver allergy is such a rarity.”

He tells me about how my family members and emergency contact, who was Gerald, has already been

notified of my waking up. They would be allowed to see me during visiting hours. They all had been very

worried about me, especially after the allergic reaction. Even my father had visited and demanded to see

the director of the hospital so he could request him to make sure that I was taken care of in the best

possible ways.

He glances at me with an apprehensive expression, “During the operation and the subsequent treatment

of your injures, I noticed that there were many laceration scars on your body, and older bruising that were

nearly healed,” his voice drops a notch, “these suggest extensive abuse, Mr. Greyson. Now, I know you

are twenty-three years of age, but I have to ask, how is your situation at home and school? Is this the

first time you’ve been physically assaulted?”

I want to scoff, but I quell that urge as I fear pulling anything vital with the action, “no, there’s nothing

wrong with my home situation. They’re just from fights.”

“I see. Do you get into these fights a lot, Mr. Greyson?”

“I don’t go actively seeking them out. But when they happen, they happen.”

“I see. Then, Mr. Greyson, why is your hospital record so damn clean? I could count the times you’ve

been

in a hospital on one hand. Mr. Greyson, disregarding the damage from the beatings, just how healthy are

you?”