As they lay there in their beds, drool pooling at the corners of their lips, their eyes resigned for what’s about to come, I offer them a deal. Nine times out of ten, they accept. I’ve been turned down a few times, I’ll admit. But it’s not often. What’s the deal? I offer them a final chance to confess. Not any old confession either. Not the kind you read in papers or hear during their trial. These are the confessions of their soul. This is the story they’ve been waiting to tell, the one they’ve held onto until the bitter end.
