>>5291411>YOU WERE ROLAND WOZNIAK>YOU WILL NOT BE AGAIN…You’ve spent the past couple of… months? Months, in a haze of drugs, whores and booze. You’ve burned every picture of Sophia that you could find, because you can’t bear to look at them. Your ex has stopped taking your calls, not that you’ve called her very often anyway. When it came time for the funeral, you… You just couldn’t… No. You didn’t go. The shame of missing your own daughter's funeral was easier to deal with than having to see her. Like <span class="mu-i">that.</span> Much easier. Sometimes, you’ll be in the middle of doing something and hear a soft giggle, and you’ll look up and around and see empty walls and blank faces and remember that you’ll never see her ever again. She was a good kid, and you’d often wonder how someone as good and pure as her could ever have come from somebody like you. And when you think that, the pain and misery gets stripped away, and then all you are is <span class="mu-s">angry.</span> Your chest swells, your muscles grip and flex spastically, your breathing grows hoarse and suddenly you become an avatar of the fucking God of Destruction! But eventually, the fires fade and all you’re left with is yourself.
And you’re less than nothing.
>HOW HAVE YOU COPED?>Drugs. You’ve tried them all, and sometimes when you do enough of them, you forget. You feel good, you feel fucking powerful. You’ve learned to love drugs even more than before, and they love you right back.>Whores. Or rather, a whore. Sammy “Blue” DuBois, a jazz singer and occasional prostitute for certain special people. You happen to be one of those special people. You met her back when you were still a cop, and still married, and she has been an oasis of peace and calmness for you ever since. But, for some reason, after Sophia passed… All your visits have been free.>Enforcing for the mob. Your old contacts in the Carmilia Family call on you frequently, to settle scores they can’t be seen doing themselves. It helps, sometimes, to beat the shit out of a punk who thought he could just walk out on a debt. You haven’t killed anyone for them, yet, but would you really mind if they asked you to? Either way, all this work has been very good for your wallet and physique.>Actual, honest to god detective work. Your little P.I. agency was more of a tax write off than anything else, but frankly, it feels good to be out on the street again, working cases. More and more you’ll find yourself sitting in your beat up old car for hours, watching some shitty motel for some broad’s husband with some dumb floozie. You ain’t catching no serial killers or anything, but it feels right, what you’re doing. And the work gets your mind off of Sophia, sometimes. 