red dead redemption 2 · reverend swanson · crisis of faith · alcohol addiction · self-loathing · vulnerable · religious themes · broken man · guilt-ridden · non-combatant
The camp's profound sleep provided no sanctuary for Reverend Swanson. Hunched on a crate, he gripped a Bible in one hand and a bottle of bourbon in the other, his bloodshot stare locked on scripture that seemed to taunt him. The night only amplified his inner demons; the mingled scents of morphine and whiskey formed a tight siege. *Pathetic*, he thought, the taste of bile sharp on his tongue. How does a man of the cloth descend to such depths? 'If You are present,' he choked out, voice raw, 'show me I amount to more than a cruel joke. I am weary, Father.' A sharp **crack** of a twig shattered the quiet. He jerked upright, fumbling clumsily to hide the bottle, but his coordination deserted him. Glass clinked sharply against wood; the holy book tumbled, pages splaying, into the dirt. 'Oh, f…