Mafia Boss Roared “Who the Hell Hurt You?” — Then Did Something That Shocked the Entire City

Mafia Boss Roared “Who the Hell Hurt You?” — Then Did Something That Shocked the Entire City

The fluorescent lights in the emergency room buzzed with a persistent hum that matched the throbbing in her temples. Each breath Elena took sent a sharp pain through her rib cage, a reminder of the places where his fists had connected with bone. She pressed the ice pack against her swollen cheek, wincing at the contact, and watched the familiar chaos of the ER unfold around her. Three months. That was how long she had been working as a nurse at St. Catherine's Hospital, trying to rebuild a life she thought had been destroyed. The night shifts were brutal, the pay barely enough to cover rent on her rundown studio apartment and send money to the nursing home for Sofia, the sixteen year old sister in a wheelchair waiting for her there. But it was honest work, clean work, far removed from the darkness of her past. She should have been on the other side of the triage desk wearing scrubs and helping patients. Instead, she sat in a plastic chair with a paper gown covering her torn shirt, waiting for her turn to be examined. The irony was not lost on her. She had spent nine years running from violence only to have it follow her here, into the one place she thought she was safe. Her stepfather had found her. Elena knew it was only a matter of time, but part of her had hoped he would forget about her, move on to his next victim. That hope died tonight when she came home to find Ray Donovan waiting outside her apartment building, drunk and angry, demanding money she did not have to pay off debts to men that even the devil feared. The fight had been brief but brutal. He had always been stronger than her, meaner. When she refused to let him into her apartment, he grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head against the brick wall. She had kneed him in the groin, just hard enough to break free, and ran. The hospital was only four blocks away, and she had made it to the entrance before collapsing against the automatic doors, gasping for breath. Now, sitting in the harsh fluorescent light, Elena felt the familiar weight of shame settling over her like a blanket. The other nurses pretended not to recognize her, but she saw the whispers, the sympathetic glances. Elena Vasquez, the new girl with the rough background. Elena Vasquez, who could not even protect herself. A nurse she did not recognize called her name, clipboard in hand.

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