"I murdered a good woman," he said softly. "I killed her. If you take a life, you should be held responsible." He sat down and closed his eyes. "I earned everything that came after, and worse. I do not deserve to be here. I have killed people. I am here to try and control that so it does not happen again. Because I am too much a coward to end myself." His voice was quiet but even as he spoke. This was not self pity. To him this was truth. It was more truth to him than the color of his eyes or the look of his face. This was what he knew of himself. This was what he knew to be true.