The rifle given to me by the Replica Man, just moments before I betrayed him. The “Ultra” SMG I stole from Sydney’s bloody corpse. The sheriff’s hat.
These are the constant reminders of my sin.
They weigh down on me, these cursed items. Only drink can keep me going now. Whisky, Vodka, wine, beer – anything I can find from scavenging the wreckage of people’s lives, anything to dull my senses. Only alcohol gives me the strength to carry on.
But it’s a temporary, illusory rush. Before long the weight of my past comes crashing back down and I can barely set one foot in front of the other. Something needs to change.
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