I can work for a murderer, because I am a murderer. But I cannot work for a man who would lock someone in a room for days in their own filth, because I was that too. I said that like a riddle, didn’t I? Was I the man who locked someone in a filthy room for days? Or was I the person locked in? I’ll tell you for free that I was not the man who did the locking. But I wasn’t always the person who’d been locked in either. Some days, I was the room. Others, the filth.
