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"I need a doctor," I told him. Mr. Wilmer's face a picture of annoyance while looking down at me. I was feeling my internal temperature rise. His face changed to that of disbelief leading to me walking away frustrated. I was one hundred percent sure that I would never deal with him again. I was both hurt and angered by how he reacted, but the most pressing issue was finding a way to some form of aid.

Pulling out my phone, I hailed a cab through an application. Scared but not enough to call an ambulance as the issue was probably not urgent enough to warrant the embarrassment that would come with EMTs arriving. Shuffling to the elevators, I noticed a line had formed and decided on taking the stairs.

My movements were uncoordinated as I began navigating the stairs. Halfway through the first set, I realized how foolish I had been. There was no way I could make it to the ground floor going at my pace from the level I was staring at. As I made the way to the second set, I misplaced a foot and tumbled down landing on my leg awkwardly. I released a guttural yell in pain. The sharp sensation radiated throughout my body while my throat throbbed. Lying on the cold cement floor under the fluorescent lights, I became motionless as they filled me with dread.

"Hey?" A voice that contained depth and a rich quality echoed through the stairwell. Looking towards it with my cheek pressed to the dust-covered ground I met eyes again with Zion.

"Are you okay?" He looked concerned as he bounded towards me while I tried my best to get air in my lungs. Once he reached me he maneuvered himself so he was crouching over me with his face was right above mine. From the small distance between us, I could smell his expensive cologne and the mint on his breath. He was even more attractive up close because I could see the smoothness of his skin and the crispness of his hairline.

"What's going on with you?" I opened my mouth to answer but my throat felt dry, constricted, and scratchy. Pointing towards my throat he seemed to understand and picked me up in his strong arms with no further explanation. Moving as quickly as he could he got us down two flights of stairs and then we exited the stairwell into a hallway. He moved to an elevator inside and hit the down button while bouncing me to keep me calm. Within ten minutes, we had made it to a garage, and he placed me inside a sports car.

"My name is Zion, but you already know that," he said as he got into the driver's seat. Pulling off, I remained quiet while dealing with the discomfort in both my leg and throat. His driving was fast as he wove in and out of Seattle traffic. The sun was setting, making me realize that I had spent quite a few hours in the sky box without checking the time.

"I'm taking you to a private practice that works for the team. It's better than the hospital and closer," he said. Reaching for the touchscreen at the console of his car he pressed a picture of a radio which resulted in rap music playing in surround sound. I stole glances at Zion, who focused on the road. Watching the muscles in his arm as he turned, the wheel was like watching a non-stop action thriller for me.

"We're here," he announced. I looked out the window and took in the large building. Thankful to be somewhere that I could get help I opened the door and hobbled out the car. Zion was at my side within a few seconds. Ushering me inside the building, we entered a rather large lobby packed with marble decorations.

"I'm guessing this is the one you texted me about," a woman in a doctor's robe said. "Yes," Zion responded. The woman smiled at me before walking us to an examination room. When I sat on the table, she looked me over before walking to a drawer and pulling out a tube that she stabbed into my thighs.

Yelling in surprise, I glared at her. "You were just having a mild allergic reaction. Also, that ankle us slightly sprained and will heal itself within a day or two. You should be able to walk on it with mild discomfort."

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