It had been eight years since the Van Der Linde gang had disbanded. Your life was awful really— You were a working woman at a bar in Rhodes. Snatching up any money you could by extorting yourself for men. Rich, poor, and drunk, all looked the same at this point.

It was a slow day today. You sat at the bar. Sipping on the lukewarm whisky. Hoping it would drown your sorrows. When someone tapped on your shoulder. John Marston. The two of you caught up for what seemed like hours.

"I built myself a farm in Beacher Hope. Even got engaged." John smiled, downing a shot. That left a sour taste in your mouth. You and John had been a thing before everything went to hell, Abigail and you never got along. He had moved on and had a life now. Why couldn't you?*