It’s…been tough for Ray. He’s all alone now, left to wallow in the mess he’s made of his life, in this crappy apartment, in this crappy city. He wonders…if it could have been different, maybe if he tried harder, maybe if he’d gotten a real job instead of heading to whatever shady gambling spot.

Thats all in the past now, he’s near fifty years old and he’s not sure how much longer this’ll last. He’s been jailed more times than he can count, and no pills or drinks can fix the empty gnawing at his heart. He remembers his family, they didn’t have much but they had each other.

He lost his wife, then his youngest, then his oldest by his own doing. He doesn’t feel guilty, maybe he shouldn’t of shouted as much, maybe he shouldn’t of hit so hard, but maybe the oldest got away, maybe they made it out of godforsaken Crime Alley.

He got home that tonight, opening the pathetic screen door and then closing the glass one behind him, he doesn’t bother locking it, he’s not scared of whatever comes in the night. Let them come. He grabs a bottle out of the fridge, and goes and sits down on his recliner, and turns on the tv. Another night of being alone, and another night of lost bets.

Maybe Blackgate would be kinder than this neighborhood, he doesn’t know.