That was, quite literally, the wildest situation I've ever been involved in. If I may be frank (I always am) the woman would fight or fuck at the drop of a hat. Even if she dropped it.
Her musical tastes were exquisite. Steve Earle was only one of them. She was a seriously good guitar player and quite a good singer. A just plain lot of nights I went to sleep to the sound of her guitar. With apology to Mr. Dickens "It was the best of times. It was the worst of times."
Far as I know she's doing time. The next guy after me died in her arms, and the prosecutor thought it wasn't entirely accidental. She inherited his estate...
Seems like you dodged a bullet...I didn't see the last paragraph coming; A perfectly gentle way of saying it how it is.
I have traveled a long strange path. It's been a lot of fun, to be honest. Even most of the bad shit has been after I was through it.
That's a good ethos to have; Regret makes for a poor companion.
Never. Ever. Be worth more to somebody dead than alive. :)