I gave you clothes, money, a place to crash. You got all the opportunity in the world right fuckin' here, for chrissake! But this? This is all you feel? You could've left whenever you wanted. But you chose to stay. How 'bout you ask yourself why?
You wanna know what's shameful, Vic? Working your whole goddamn life, having nothing to show for it. You still think there's... good, bad? Right and wrong? There ain't. There's just this. Survival. Security, pleasure. They don't give out awards for dying in the projects.
Fuck me?! FUCK THE GODDAMN WORLD! They don't give a shit about you, or your family! You think you're nothing. You are nothing 'til the day you die. I thought you were smart, but that's the life you want. Guess what, Vic? Good news! You already got it. So go, get the fuck out of here. You don't deserve this.
And I'm not the Hangman! You see the way people look at me, right? I know you do. And what was it all for, hm? For what? So you could what? Become a capo? You're not even a made man... [throws her cigarette out]
Yeah, you're right. I ain't. I still made out like a goddamn bandit, and you know what? It was worth it. You asked, that's my fucking answer. I got the club, a Drops operation to run, my own thing. [almost sobbing] A guy like me, gettin' all that? That don't mean nothing to you, maybe, but it does to me. Meant I could have a better life. So yeah, yeah. I don't regret what I got.
Yeah, wow, but I'm sorry! I'm fuckin' sorry for everything that's happened to you. Jesus, you meant something to me. Still do. And I fucked it up. And that, I ain't never gonna live down.
I've been thinking recently about the future... about our Family's future. Maybe it's time to break with tradition. When the time comes, I want you to take my place. I want you to run this Family, if that's something that would interest you.
I haven't forgotten, you know. The way you looked at me. So curious. What did it feel like, to get to watch a person unravel? And now you're numbing yourself as punishment.
My father told me I was sick. And Doctor Ventris. And then the doctor after him. And then the doctor after him. For ten years, men have lied to me. And then I come home and it's all the same. They think I'm broken. I'm not broken. I'm not the one who's sick. And neither are you. The world is. You're right. I deserve a fresh start.
As you all know, I was stuffed in Arkham State Hospital for a decade. Convicted of murdering seven women. Summer Gleeson. Taylor Montgomery. Yolanda Jones. Nancy Hoffman. Suzanna Weekley. DeVry Blake. And Trisha Becker. Their names are worth saying. Victims are so quickly forgotten, aren't they? Our stories are rarely told.
Yes? Hm? I've had a lot of time to reflect. And I have to say... I was genuinely surprised at how many of you wrote letters telling the judge that I was mentally ill. Like my mother. Not that the judge needed much convincing; my father saw to that. Still, I trusted you. I loved you. And yet not one of you tried to help me. Except for my brother. The man you all flew in to mourn. And you know, the real thorn in my side is that, unlike everyone here, I was innocent. I mean... Jesus Christ, Milos has a higher body-count than I do.
I know you're all anxious for me to leave. No one has been shy about that. I'd really hoped that it would be different, but I understand. I don't fit into this family any more. So tomorrow, I'm starting a new life. For the first time, I have hope. To new beginnings. Cent'Anni.
