We find our villain writing by moonlight, the flicker of his candle having died. He is sitting beside the window, fighting a nearly irresistible urge to give it all up, go to the tavern, and forget all he ever did - like he's done so many times before.
But then, morning would come, and he'd likely be in a prison cell - also like he's done so many times before.
For one long moment, our villain stops and considers the words he's about to write. These words will never be read by anyone; no, as soon as the page is filled with his spidery script (which was always considered too perfect for a man's handwriting), he will burn the page. Or shred it. Or eat it - he just can't have anyone read it.
The Molly event in the square has almost been too much for him. It has reminded him of something in his past, something very similar to...ah, well. He can't think anymore of the past, lest he lose his nerve and go crazy.
"I thought I was stronger than this," he mutters. He finishes recording his frustrations on his journal, then yanks the page out and goes to light his match.
Curses! There aren't any more matches. He begins to shred the paper, but what will he do with the remains?
He eats it, instead.
As soon as the meal is finished, he barely restrains himself from slamming his fist into the wall. Instead, he raises his fists to the ceiling and rants in an enraged whisper, "I will iron out every weakness in myself!" His face is distorted in his rage, and he sinks to his knees.
"Curse you, Miriam Fletcher! I'd be normal, but for you!" His hands are trembling, and anger is replaced with shame. "Curse who I have become..."