The Mafia Boyfriend

The First Patient

I'm woken up very abruptly. I feel hands shaking me and pulling me from sleep. My first instinct is to scream. So I scream loudly like a little girl as I sit on my bed, with my pillow in front as a shield. With a widened eye look, I stare at the gorilla in front of me.

- Okay, I need you to get up, we have a situation.

- Wait, what? What the hell would make you wake me up like it's the end of the world? If there is not a good excuse for scaring me to death, I'm gonna kick you in the nuts!

The Cinco Member in front of me snorts, as if what I just said was completely sounds irrational. Try me, ape.

- There was a raid in our warehouses in the night. We had to fight another gang. Dewey got hurt and isn't looking so great, can you check up on him?

Oh. 

My nursing instincts suddenly kick in and I stand up from the bed as fast as I can. I put on a robe around me, in an attempt to look more proper, since I was still wearing incredibly short pajamas. I look at him, signalizing that I wasn't going to need any more time. I was ready, I didn't need to go through a morning routine, if it meant a patient's life would be at risk. I wait for the gorilla's lead.

I am lead again through long corridors, this time on the lower level. This house is much more massive than I had first assumed. I then feel a bit afraid when the gorilla opens a door that leads to a basement, under the house's main stairs. I don't know if I really want to go down there with him, but I have no choice when I see his expression. He seems worried. Not like someone who would jump on me to hurt me. 

As I take the first step down, I start to smell something putrid. I smell death and despair. Never a good combination. At the bottom of the wood steps, I can finally see where it comes from. The cemented floor is a nasty color, something between brown and blood red. But I soon realize those are spots and not actual color. The unfinished brick walls have several chains attached to them and a small table lingers in the middle, with power tools and some objects on it, that I can only imagine to be torture devices. The whole thing just looks like a death dungeon. 

Which, now that I think about it, probably is... This was the Cinco's torture chamber. 

I hug myself as fear washes over me, afraid to touch or do anything. My heart rate increases as I continued to inhale this horrific smell. It pierces my lungs like gas poison. The gorilla rushes me to follow him deeper in the basement to a very dim lighted part. I feel panic. I have seen my fair share amount of blood and gore with all my work experience in the ER, but this was something else. This was inflicted pain, screams pleading for forgiveness and chopped limbs. This was insanity. At least, in the ER we had room sterilization. This Gang probably didn't know what deep cleaning meant. 

Then again, maybe it was some sort of welcoming attribute. Imagine how it would work on enemies. It definitely made me want to crap my own pants.

The deeper we go, the more noticeable it is that this isn't just a torture chamber. In the back, there is some sort of divided space with better lighting and a bit better cleaning habits. 

The gorilla pushes a plastic curtain away to reveal a small makeshift clinic. This space is somewhat clean and much more welcoming that what I saw 30 seconds ago. I gladly breath in the better air that the separating plastic curtain allows. There are labeled white cabinets and new medical devices around every wall. I sigh with relief, as I had imagined a far worse fate as The Stitcher.

 My patient is on a gurney in a corner. He is of small stature and appears to be in his mid 40's. One much younger gorilla stands next to him, holding his hand. He whispers something in my patient's ear, something that seems to make him calm down and take deeper breaths. The patient is in obvious pain. His breath is shallow and rapid. His face is contorted and I can see streams of previous tears on his blood stained cheeks. He showcases smalls little cuts all over his face, joined by some bruising. His red eyes look at me, pleading for help.