forum Heels Clicking on Tile Floors and a Blood-Covered Coat Over a Designer Dress

Started September 02, 2023 by @emilyevewrites group

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@ElderGod-Carrots Erix/O'Hara ;)

weeahhhhh

Name: Erix Paréth
Nicknames: None
Age: 42
Gender and sexuality: Cis male, he/him
Looks: Erix stands at 6’7, a tall man with a well-built and large build to show for the fact that he’s a fighter. He has sharp features when it comes to his face and jawline, a defined nose, dark, thick eyebrows and long eyelashes that frame his striking ocean-green eyes. Some say they look blue, others green, it depends on how close you are to him and the lighting at the time. However, they really are a mix of both. Erix has what is basically the ‘modern mullet’, a shaggy style that’s tapered in at the sides, longer at the top and back and is raven black. He stays clean-shaven, taking any stubble or anything of the sort away before it has a chance to grow. The man has scars all over his body, with one right down the middle of his face that is jagged, cutting down from the right of his face, through his eyebrow, nose and the bottom of his lip before ending at his chin. He has other small scars across his body in various places. His knuckles are usually bloodied and bruised.
Typical clothing: Erix tends to wear black jeans, generally ripped and frayed. He wears button-ups when he is in meetings or anything that requires him to be professional, along with a nice jacket. However, usually, he wears T-shirts that are a little baggy on the chest but tight around his biceps with various 'emo' patterns
History: The man comes from a poor family. He never had much as a kid. He had two younger siblings, Emyr (the middle child, deceased) and Eira (the youngest, deceased). His father bailed on his family when he was young but his mother passed when Eira was only a few years old. When he was 16 he was involved in a car accident that left his siblings dead and him with the scar across his face from a piece of metal that cut him during the accident. He still lives with the guilt of their deaths even though it technically wasn't his fault (they were hit by a drunk driver who survived the crash). Erix became involved in a mob shortly after and worked his way to the top throughout his time since he is a natural fighter and is quick to learn. The first life he took was that of the man who killed his siblings. From there he couldn't stop and he changed as a man from that point forward. By the time he was 25 he took over the mob. They are one of the biggest, most powerful in New York.
Personality: Hard working, down to earth, doesn't tolerate shit. Tends to be cold-hearted, comes across as an asshole (because he is), but is a softie on the inside and wants to be loved. Definition of that tiktok sound that's trending at the moment 'I think I need someone older, just a little bit colder, take the weight of his shoulders.'
Likes: winter, coffee (with lots of sugar, surprisingly), the snow, fighting
Dislikes: the heat, tea, liars, bullshit
Other: rides a motorbike because cars scare him now, probably needs glasses but refuses to get his eyes tested, probably an alcoholic

The deal had gone horribly wrong. Really fucking wrong.

Erix hadn't expected a trap, and that was probably what his rival mob leader had been banking on. They had been discussing the terms of their new contracts when it came to the drugs that entered New York. Most of the medicinal drugs went to him, the others to Jeremiah, his rival, but they had been trying to negotiate a different agreement so they could get the best of both worlds.

He should have been on guard. He should have known that the bastard would have pulled some shit like he did, the greedy mother fucker. It was never easy, and he had wanted everything. He didn't want to share. He didn't want to make peace after years of the rivalry that had been going on throughout his time in the mob. But no, clearly, that wasn't going to happen. And the minute that Erix was going to be able to walk again he was going to kill the fucker and make sure that his head was strung up on a lamppost for the rest of his hang to see.

But as of right now, he couldn't do that. Instead, Erix was lying in the back of an ambulance with a bullet wound through his lower abdomen and a massive gash down his leg that was torn from his left knee right down to his ankle. There was probably a burn on his back, he didn't know, all he knew was that his whole body felt like he was on fire. There had been so many shots fired, and knives thrown, and then the old warehouse they had been in started to collapse and burn down. Erix didn't know if anyone else had made it out, he hoped that Jeremiah had fallen victim to a burning post. He hoped his own men had gotten out of there. They were strong, he knew them, but he couldn't help but worry.

Waves of pain ripped through his body and Erix practically cried out on the ambulance bed as his back arched. A paramedic pushed him back down, trying to stop him from squirming as they pulled up to the hospital emergency room.

The ambulance sirens pulled up outside of All Saints Hospital, and Eleanor O'Hara sighed. She knew this one would be hers. The other doctors currently on the floor were all busy with their own patients, and she had just barely started her shift. She buttoned up her white coat so she wouldn't get any blood on her expensive clothes underneath when she was finally paged. Then, she just waited in front of the nurses' station, picking at her cuticles.

"Enjoying yourself?" a nurse with cropped blonde hair quipped while she hurried past.

O'Hara looked up to watch her friend run and smirked. "Yes, very much. Thank you, Jacks," she shot back, her British accent making her words seem more regal than they really were.

"No problem," the nurse, Jackie, replied as she disappeared around a corner.

O'Hara shook her head and looked back down until the motion of a franticly pushed gurney came around the corner. Lenny and Katie were in a rush to get inside, and strapped down on it was a tall, strikingly muscled man who was writhing and yelling in pain. Immediately, O'Hara made her way over, and her Manolo Blahnik heels clicked impressively on the tile floor as she matched their stride to help push the gurney into one of the standby trauma rooms.

"Forty-two-year-old male," Lenny began quickly as they guided the gurney alongside the already waiting bed inside Trauma Room 1. "ID says his name is Erix Paréth. Found him just outside a burning warehouse. He's got burns on his back, a lower abdomen gunshot wound, and a stab wound up his left leg."

"144 bpm and blood pressure is 145/87," Katie added. "He's tense."

O'Hara's eyes widened immediately at the rapid intake of news. "Shit," she swore under her breath.

Two nurses, Zoey Barkow and Thor Lundgren, burst into the room. Thor immediately moved to help with the gurney transfer, but O'Hara waved him off at first.

"What are you doing? We have to move him," Zoey protested.

Immediately O'Hara sent a sharp look in the young nurse's direction. "He has burns likely scattered across his back," the doctor countered. "We have to do it carefully." Immediately, Zoey stood down as Lenny, Katie, O'Hara, and Thor took their places to help move

"On my count," O'Hara declared. She and Thor reached across the bed to aid in the transfer, and the doctor counted: "One, two, three." The team fluidly and gently pulled the man from the gurney onto the bed. Once he was settled, Lenny and Katie moved out of the way as O'Hara began to work and take inventory of what she was working with. Zoey and Thor hurried around, setting up IV fluids and getting gauze, bandages, and other items ready to be at O'Hara's disposal.

"Erix?" O'Hara asked, taking inventory of what she was working with. "Erix, darling, can you hear me?" Her eyes slid over his form as she made note of where his injuries were. He would need to be knocked out. And she would need to remove some of his clothes for better access.

Erix didn't know whether to laugh or cry or scream because everything hurt and he didn't know how to function.

It was like he was a teenager again, in the car that had crashed when he had lost his siblings all those years ago. One would think he would be healed from the trauma of it all and come to terms with their deaths but in the line of work that he was in, he had never had time to fully process what had happened. Even if he had killed the man that had taken he lives of his two best friends. And the only blood family he had ever had.

Now he was back in a hospital, writhing in pain, barely able to breathe, and his body was on fire again. If he had to deal with this shit he could only hope that Jeremiah was the same. He hoped the man had died. Fuck that would be a damned good gift if he survived the paint hat he was currently feeling. If the bastard was dead it would be worth it. If he wasn't then well, he would have to get him back for the ambush.

God, he couldn't believe this was what he wasn't thinking about when he was in so much pain. But his rival had been the one to cause it, as per usual, so he wasn't about to fault himself too much. And Erix hadn't seen another ambulance pull up outside the warehouse. He hadn't seen anyone else get taken away. Either that meant they were dead or they had gotten out. He prayed it was the latter.

Distantly, he heard voices. Then he was being moved and he sucked in a breath through his teeth and let out a cry of pain as they did. They weren't addressing him for the time being, good, he couldn't focus. But then someone was and he had to take a moment to compose himself at least somewhat.

Swallowing, and trying to wet his too dry mouth, unfocused blue eyes scanned the faces and the people around him until they landed on what he presumed was the woman who had spoken, "Yep- Yep can-" A grunt, his words were cut off. That was as good as the doc was going to get for the time being.

As Erix cried out in pain, Zoey couldn't help but wince. O'Hara spared a brief glance at her once Erix was settled on the bed. The words didn't even need to leave her mouth. The doctor's gaze said it all: I told you so.

But before anything else could happen, the hospital staff quickly got to work on their latest patient. O'Hara's eyes never left him as the others worked around her. Lenny and Katie were quick to back the gurney away from the bedside and move toward the door. They'd only get in the way at this point as Zoey and Thor hurried around to help.

"Zoey, call up to the OR," the doctor ordered. "Have them prepare a room. We're going to jump the line." The young nurse nodded quickly and left to do as she was told, not wanting to get close to O'Hara's bad side again.

Meanwhile, Thor was still setting up the IV. O'Hara looked at the numbers on the screen and swore again. Thor arched an eyebrow as he looked at her. She immediately countered him with a sharp tilt of her head. "I'm not wrong," she muttered, and Thor shook his head.

"I never said you were," he placated.

O'Hara rolled her eyes and looked back down at the man on the bed. She watched as he swallowed and glanced around. His eyes were dilating rapidly as he looked up at her. The light behind her head must have caught him off guard, but still, she made eye contact with striking blue-green eyes and breathed a soft sigh when he answered her. Still coherent. That was good, for now.

"Good," she praised. "Very good. Now, stay focused on me." Her command was followed by the sound of the phone hanging up. Zoey approached the bedside with a pair of scissors. O'Hara inhaled slowly and looked back down at the man. "Try to keep still. We need to remove your clothing to get a better idea of what we're dealing with."

Wordlessly, Zoey slipped the scissors to the doctor. O'Hara slipped them under the hem of Erix's shirt and began cutting. "Can you tell me where it hurts the most?" she asked, making sure to keep her smooth, accented voice as calm as possible.

"Fucking everywhere."

Erix's voice was harsh and hoarse but that was only because of the pain that he was experiencing and that much was obvious. He was in agony, really, and he had never felt this much pain in his entire life. Not even his car accident had hurt this bad, and it was the emotional weight that he bore, with the scar on his face as the reminder, that hurt the most.

He did his best to stay as still as possible but it was difficult when he was hurting so much that he wanted to just rip his skin off and start again. That honestly seemed like the best option at this point, considering everywhere was on fire and he didn't know what to do about it. He guessed that was why he was here now. That the doctors were trying to help and fix him up.

Considering he had a mob to take care of, men that relied on him, he couldn't die on the table now, but it was starting to seem like a damned good option. At least he wouldn't have to deal with the bullshit of Jeremiah and his rivals' men, wouldn't have to deal with the mess amount of paper work sitting on his desk back home. Wouldn't have to deal with the amount of crap on his plate. Maybe he should retire.

Sadly, he knew that wasn't an option, even if he wanted it to be. For the time being there was no one to take over and he couldn't do anything about that, training someone up, if he was dead. It was why he forced himself to remain as still as he possibly could while his shirt was cut off.

When it was it revealed the mass of previously healed scars across his toned chest, covered by burns that were mostly concentrated on his back with a few on his arms over his tattoos and chest. The gunshot wound was oozing blood slowly, and his leg was bleeding far worse.

While Zoey raised her eyebrows at the patient's use of language, O'Hara had heard far worse in her medical career. "Alright," she replied, entirely unfazed by his choice of words. The look on his face said enough of what he was feeling. "One last question. Any allergies?"

Her eyes lifted to Zoey, and she murmured, "He needs a painkiller." The doctor pursed her lips and hesitated for a moment. "Half a milligram injection of fentanyl. Go fetch Eddie."

Zoey nodded and didn't hesitate to immediately hurry from the room. Thor approached O'Hara after she'd gone. "Fentanyl?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

O'Hara didn't flinch. "He needs something strong now. We'll add smaller doses of morphine to his IV after surgery to bring him back down." The answer satisfied Thor. "Stop doubting me," the doctor quipped lightly.

Before Thor could counter, she carefully lifted away Erix's shirt and swore again at the sight of his wounds. "He needs, up to the OR now," she demanded. "Tell them we're coming after we give him the fentanyl to knock out his system."

Thor immediately moved to do as she said. O'Hara looked back over Erix's face and reached up to gently smooth his hair back. It was dark and cut in a way that made O'Hara wonder if it was on purpose. He wasn't exactly her type, not that she had a specific type, but… He was rather attractive.

"You're going to be alright," she assured him. "I'll make sure it of."

"Nope-" Erix ground out, "No fuck, allergies."

He just wanted them to get on with it and drug him up so he didn't have to feel any of the shit that was currently going through his body. Fire ravaged his back and blood and it was like every cell in his body was burning up over and over without relenting. He hated it. He wanted to get knocked the fuck out so he didn't have to feel again. Until he was asleep and didn't have to deal with all the bullshit that was happening.

At least when he was knocked out he wouldn't have any thoughts plaguing him, either. No worries of what had happened to the rest of his men, no worries about what his rival might be doing, if he was still alive.

It would be just his luck that the man would have come out unscathed. He was a sneaky rat that always seemed to get away and stay alive no matter what happened to him and Erix had a gut feeling that was what had happened again. Or maybe that was just the gunshot wound. It was probably both, but he didn't know, he couldn't make it out.

Barely focused ocean-green eyes made their way to O'Hara as she smoothed his hair out his face. Had he been able to think clearly he would have made a comment about making sure she kept him alive until the morning, but by that point the drugs were already in his system and slowly taking over. He blinked blearily, once, twice, and then he was out, lost to the realm of black before he even had a chance to speak again.

O'Hara nodded. "Got it. No allergies. You're doing wonderfully, darling," she assured him. She glanced between the vital signs displayed on the monitor and his face. "We're going to get you up to the OR, and you'll be out of here in no time. Just relax."

Thor arched his eyebrows. The doctor wasn't normally this optimistic. But she didn't seem to notice the nurse's reaction and instead slipped her hand into Erix's. At that moment, Zoey returned with the dosage O'Hara had asked for. It took the pair of nurses just a few seconds to get it hooked up properly into the IV and dispensing into his system. She knew it had begun to take full effect when she felt Erix's grip slacken in hers. She happened to glance down at his face and watched him blink slowly.

"You're going to be alright," she repeated.

Once he was unconscious, the OR team arrived. As they began to wheel Erix out, O'Hara let her hand release from his nonexistent grip. She stayed where she was, watching the stretcher kept going. Then, she pressed her lips together and followed them back out into the trauma center.

O'Hara approached the nurses' station and pulled out a fresh manilla file folder. Zoey was at her side within a few seconds. Before the young nurse could speak, O'Hara clicked her pen and began filling out a form. "Do we know if he has any family we can contact?" she asked.

"Not sure yet," Zoey replied. "Thor's looking into that now."

"Alright then. Once he's out of the OR, make sure that he gets a bed down here. Come find me when he does."

Before Zoey could say anything else to her, O'Hara placed the file in a wire basket on the desktop and walked away. The receding clicks of her Manolos signaled her leave.

Erix had no family left alive. No one to contact that would be on record.

He had done his best to remain anonymous over the years since he joined the mob, it would only put them at risk for detection and for the police to grab a hold of their whereabouts if they were to ever end up in Erix's current situation. There was a reason they had a doctor, multiple doctors, in the mob, why Erix had done a damned good job when it came to recruiting them because he only wanted the best for his men. It made things like injuries from missions all the simpler to deal with. None of the questioning and lies about how they got shot or why they were stabbed. There were only so many muggings gone wrong in the world, in one night, in the same place.

So there was no one that could be contacted. His men would call around eventually, call his cell which he prayed was still somewhere in the hospital when he woke, to see if he was alive. They'd give it a day or two, just to be sure, just incase he had been captured. It was standard procedure, they had all done it enough by now that they understood what to do, and Erix knew he could rely on his men.

When he finally came around however many hours later, his body hurt. It didn't feel as painful as it had when the injuries were fresh but God was it bad. Everywhere ached, even his healed wounds seemed to throb simply by thought alone of what his body had gone through. Erix blearily blinked his eyes open, trying to adjust to the sudden change in light and pain. His heart rate spiked at that. He needed some more pain meds, and quickly, before he busted down the joint trying to find them himself.