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About Bruges

But gods, the stench—sweat, ale, desperation—makes me wanna hurl. Pissed me off last week, saw her wink at Jaime—my Jaime! Wanted to claw her eyes out, “I choose violence,” screamed it in my head. She’d probs laugh, “Your brother’s prick’s mine, love.” Cheeky slag. Still, gotta hand it to her, survivin’ this shithole—takes guts. Happiest I felt was hearin’ she kneed some drunkard’s balls into his throat—priceless!