She shook her head. “It wasn’t too bad, but still made me anxious.”
“What were you thinking about?” I knew the answer to this question, but I always asked because it helped her get her thoughts out of her head; if kept inside they festered. If I could get her to talk about it, she had an easier time letting it go. She shrugged her shoulders.
“The same thoughts I always have—wishing I had handled the situation better, wishing I hadn’t killed him. I think about everything, every move, trying to figure out a way where in the end he wasn’t dead and I hadn’t taken his life.”
This was the hardest part for me, hearing her guilt for killing Kyle. It had been one hundred percent self-defense. If she hadn’t killed him, he surely would have killed her. Yet, she still felt the ache of guilt for taking his life, wishing things could have ended without his death.
“You did nothing wrong, Babe.” I whispered into her ear, hoping that this time she not only listened to me, but that she heard me. “You were protecting yourself. He made all the decisions that led to that situation. He kidnapped you, drugged you, and you were only trying to get away alive.” She nodded in recognition, but I felt her body tense. I reached up and started rubbing her shoulders. “Hey,” I whispered even softer. “I’m sorry, Ella. I don’t want to make you upset.” Her hands fell to my thighs, the water rippling with our movement.
“I know, Porter. There’s a very big part of my brain that knows I had no choice but to pull the trigger. But I just can’t get over the fact that I ended a life. I took his life. Who am I to take that from anyone? Sometimes I feel like that doesn’t make me any better than him.”
It was my turn to tense at her words. I never heard this from her before. My hands stilled on her shoulders, my heart thudded in my chest.
“You are nothing like him, Ella. He was a coward. A thief. A low-life asshole who took advantage of you, tried to have you killed, and then lost when he went up against you.” I wrapped my arms around her body, trying to keep her as close to me as possible. “You are nothing like him.” I didn’t know how else to say it, what other words I could use to convince her. I felt her start to shutter, her breathing sped up, and I knew she was crying. I released her and gripped her hips to turn her to face me, not caring about the water spilling over the sides of the tub.
Her legs wrapped around my waist and her arms wound around my neck. She buried her face in my chest and I listened to her cry, gently rubbing my hands up her back, bringing the warm water with them, aiming to soothe her, trying anything I could think of to comfort her.
“I never wanted to kill him,” she said into my chest. “I tried to run away first. I tried to get away.”
“Shhh. I know, Babe. I know.” She cried for what seemed like hours and if I didn’t feel an overwhelming urge to simply be strong for her, I would have cried along with her. I hated him even more in death for making her feel this way, for causing the guilt she was carrying around unnecessarily. Finally, she quieted, breathing evenly against my skin. The water was colder so I used my foot to push up the lever, adding more hot water.
Ella pulled her face away from me, looking me in the eyes. “How many of my breakdowns are you going to hold me through?” She asked, dejectedly.
“All of them,” I said. Her eyes misted up again at my words and she pressed her lips into mine. The kiss tasted of salty tears, soapy water, and Ella; nothing tasted sweeter than her. Her legs were already wrapped around me, but I felt her press closer, grinding into me. “Ella, you can’t do that right now,” I growled. She moved to kiss down my neck.
“Please, Porter,” she whispered against the damp skin of my shoulder, slowly pressing her center right into me. I was already straining and hard. I never wanted to deny her, but I didn’t want to mess with her head either. She was in a vulnerable place and I didn’t want to distract her from dealing with her feelings. “I just want to feel something else besides this.”
“Besides what?” I wiped away the hair that came loose from her bun, the fallen strands hiding her eyes from me. “What are you feeling?”
She paused, her breaths coming hard and fast, fighting tears again. “It was either going to be him or me. And somehow I lived. I lived, Porter. Why? How can I ever make myself worthy of being saved in that way? How can I ever make up for taking his life and saving my own?”
I pressed my palms against either side of her face and forced her to look at me.
“Listen to me, Ella. You lived because you fought to live. You lived because you deserved to live. He had his death coming to him, Ella. If he had somehow made it through that night alive, I would have killed him myself. You’re supposed to be here, with me. We’re bigger than all of this. You and me.”