He had never thought of himself as a particularly bad man, a bit misguided perhaps but not really bad. Or it was just because he kept the wrong kind of company, it was really all their fault that he had slipped into the slippery road of theft.
It had been their fault that he had found himself one night breaking into an old mans home to grab whatever valuables the old goat could have gathered through a lifetime of being a greedy old bastard.
And of course when the old man had come home earlier than he had expected it hadn't been his fault that he had beaten the old man down. He shouldn't have been there, it wasn't his fault the old man didn't