Guilt implies regret or remorse, which is something that I do not partake in.  Such feelings are weak, and beneath me.  I admit, the shock of such an…unexpected…end to my former home was a bit difficult to adjust to for a while, but it was inevitable that I would put it behind me.  It’s all behind me, they are all behind me, she is behind me…and that’s the end of it.  Now begone with you.

(He lies.  He still has nightmares, though not as frequently.  He’s much more jaded, both from the sacrifices, the long, long years of emotional solitude, and the guilt has weighed him down to the point where it’s almost become a part of him.  He’s indifferent to it.  But occasionally, in the dark of those rare nights when he’s laying in bed alone, those bad thoughts will come to haunt him.  They always will.  Though he’ll never admit it, especially not to himself.)