The Mafia Boyfriend

The Amistad

I never had wanted to be a nurse. Like any regular citizen, I thought bad of the profession. Nurses worked hard for little pay and weren't very well valued by their whiny patients. 

However, when the opportunity to become a health professional came in the shape of a nurse, I didn't refuse. All I could say was, after four years of a hard-ass bachelor and three years of being an Emergency Room Registered Nurse - I was in love. The power to decide the person's life under my hands made my veins pump and my blood flow. But enough with my love for the job.

This was a Friday night. It wasn't unusual that I was on the clock. It paid well to not be in the clubs on a Friday night. Which meant I could party harder on the other week days. I had my favorite scrubs on -  the tight ones in navy blue - which I had bought online with my credit card. That was my thing now, buying stuff I most probably didn't need with a credit card. It was an addiction. I was soon going to register in the Shoppers Anonymous  (taken how this little habit was getting). 

The emergency room was filled with drunk teenagers puking at 1 AM, something I made myself avoid as much as I could. The sound of puking was something I was used to, but I didn't have to like it and the smell was something that in my whole career I had yet to embrace.

I dashed to a beautiful petite blond with a deep V-neck. She couldn't be more than 16, which meant she was illegally drinking. I held her hair while positioning the vomit cup under her chin. She had this awful yellowish color to her cheeks. And her clothes seemed to have witnessed a civil war. I knew I wasn't going to report her to the police, it meant too much paperwork. By the looks of it, her parent's punishment would be more than enough. If my parents ever even dreamt of something like this to have happened to me, I would be have been grounded for a year. Thank goodness I had been a good kid. Liver poisoning didn't sound so great at 16.

After she was under control, and getting verbally abused by some very disturbed suburb parents, I resumed my work for the night. That included doing my rounds, checking on everyone on the gurneys, administering medication and checking vital signals. Just the usual beginning of the weekend night at a slow hospital. And nothing seemed out of the ordinary, which I mentally thanked myself for. But that's when I saw him. 

At first, all I could see was a bloody forehead being held by what I can only call as two gorillas dressed in black suits, which I found rather impressive. Their bodies were massive, tall and obviously built. From the facial features, I could tell that they had a Latin side to their origins. Their shirt sleeves were pushed up, revealing a ton of ink underneath, a combination of several multicolored tattoos. That caught my eye in a weird way - why were heavily tattooed men carrying another man into the emergency room? 

As I went to approach them, I looked more closely at the unconscious man that was held under the arms by those other mysterious men. The more I observed them, the more suspicious they appeared. I didn't like the looks of it, it made me nervous. The unconscious man looked rugged, in sort of a manly way. His face was portrayed by a few days beard and a strong jaw line. His features were somewhat good-looking under all the now drying blood. 

I directed the men to lay him on a gurney, as I assessed his vital signals. They tossed him with gentle care, as if he was someone important to them. The man hardly reacted to the movement, half unconscious. He appeared to be stable and looked unharmed, except for the big gash on his forehead, that kept going onto his left eyebrow. That would leave a big scar. What a shame, I thought, to butcher such a handsome face.

I hadn't been able to see his eye color until I opened one of the eyes to check his pupils' reaction to light. His reacting pupils stared back at me, they were a piercing light gray, almost unhuman, which made me put a frown on my face. Who had wanted to harm a model? Had it been like a fashion show gone wrong? Lord knows how many beauty addicts with face gashes had appeared in the ER since I worked there. They weren't playing.