Some say love is the greatest pain of all. I am one of those some that say that, and I plan on continuing to say it, Jessica. Even if your father was brutally assassinated in front of you when you were 12, that doesn’t make you breaking my heart hurt any less. We were an “us”, but now we’re just a “you” and a “private investigator who may never love again.”
Sure, the death of a loved one is always difficult, and the death of a love one in front of your eyes, sniped from what could have been miles away, is certain to be a doozy. But do people write poems about it? Is the radio filled with songs telling tales of fathers stuck down by the ominous evil of the universe? No, Jessica. It’s full of love songs and break up melodies because that’s what hurts the most. Get on the right side of culture.
And I understand that I’m this city’s only private investigator, with a spotless record and unparalleled detective abilities, but I thought those things were just what you loved about me. Turns out you only wanted to exploit them, trading love for perfect police work like some kind of common floosy. You never cared about how I love putting clues together, and my unmatched skill at deducing never truly brought a smile to your face. All you cared about was justice for the man who gave you life. That’s not how a relationship works.
Do you have any idea what it’s like being the leading expert in your field, and for that field to be tracking down criminals of the highest tier, alone, going on nothing but your brain and a hunch? Of course not, because then you’d be me, which you are obviously not, because if you were you’d be weeping right now, remembering how every relationship you’ve had ended the same way: Your love revealing they were only using you to right a wrong from their past.
I’m the one who always has to wipe the slate clean, but why do I always have to get wiped away with it?
Oh god you suck you suck you suck you suck you suck you suck and I’m sorry but your father sounds like he was asking for it. No, it’s true. From everything you told me, it all points to him being one heck of a fire starter. He was probably killed by some schmuck named Grant over a stolen girlfriend.
And in the end, was Grant not the one who truly suffered? Having to live life without his love, the greatest pain of all. Yes, he dealt out that pain negatively, but only with one father killing. If this Grant fellow were to, I don’t know, also steal a pack of gum from a convenient store and throw it at a homeless man, then yes, he’s hitting the edge of his grief rope. But we don’t know that. I’m a detective, not a time traveler. And you’re a heartbreaker.