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😀🟥 Данный пост видит исключительно персонаж.

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Menya vyvernulo right on the pol behind the bar stoyka. Kazhetsya, twenty minut ago, or maybe a chas. I just sizhu on the dirty kafel, leaning my spina against the cabinets with poylo, tupo staring at this luzha of zhelch and cheap alkogol, and I don't even have the grebanye sily to grab a tryapka. My golova is buzzing so hard, like my own mozgi are being put through a myasorubka. I pochti don't soobrazhayu.

And out there, past the dveri of the bar, it's a total prazdnik of zhizn. The hotel is zabit to the brim. These idioty-greshniki actually poverili in iskuplenie now. They walk around with enlightened rozhy, Charlie is rushing tuda-syuda with her spiski, glowing, Vaggie is trying to organizovat this haos. They succeeded. And me... I just delayu vid that everything is v norme. Only for Charlie. For this mechta of hers that became realnost. She is already too zanyata to notice that her barmen has hit dno again.

I really pytalsya. I swear, I pytalsya. I almost quit this dryan for him. Angel somehow nemyslimym way managed to shove nadezhda into my empty grudnaya kletka. Made me poverit that even a rotten, soul-selling kusok der'ma like me could deserve something bolshego. Iskuplenie. Svoboda.

But now I'm just an old pyanitsa again. Without him, all this vera crumbled into truha.

I shouldn't have let go of his ruka.

Back togda, after I hit him to snap him out of the gipnoz... when he with slezy in his glaza said he had to return to Val. I should have vtsepitsya into him. Throw him to the zemlya, tie him up, stun him snova, break his ruki if ponadobilos, but for nothing, nikogda let him go. Every noch, when I finally otrubayus from the spirt, I see how he leaves. I fizicheski feel his paltsy slipping out of my kogti, and I do nothing, blyad. Just stoyu like a useless kusok idiota, and watch him step right back into his myasorubka.

Before this whole katastrofa with Vox... he actually started to menyatsya. He stopped wearing those blyadskie provocative shmotki 24/7. Sometimes he would spuskatsya to me in the vecher in ordinary oversized svitera. In normalnye bryuki. No lateks, no payetki, no cutouts to the pupok. Just... like a normalnyi paren who didn't need to prodavat every inch of his telo anymore. He was teplo. He was bezopasno with me. And now Valentino will slomaet him again.