Yeah, I know. But it doesn't mean that what I did was right either. It's not that I regret it, but I still... I killed them, Flynn. Their blood is on my hands.

[ Literally, sometimes. He can see it, when his mind strays, when this place gets too much for him, he can see his hands dripping with wet blood.

He leans back to look up at Flynn, and Repede whines, shifting on the couch to look at Flynn, too. He wets his lips, and takes a breath that rasps in his throat ]

Maybe I didn't say anything because, she's right.

[ He's a murderer, a criminal. Maybe he deserved it, deserved to get his own punishment for the wrongs he did. ]