Orla.

There was one word I could think of right now that described how I had acted. A word I very rarely used to describe anyone. But it was exactly what I felt like after leaving Ezra downstairs and closing myself in my room.

A bitch.

I felt like a bitch.

I had been so close to telling Ezra this morning. Sitting next to him, surrounded by his scent and his warmth, everything else seemed so insignificant. The affection and the concern in his eyes trumped all my reservations about telling him and almost pulled the words out of my lips.

I had been about to tell him what kind of person I was, that he didn't know me as well as he thought. That I was a murderer.

Deep down, a part of me knew Ezra would never judge me. His heart was so big, he would accept me however I was. Deep down, I knew it hadn't really been my fault.

But the small seed of doubt that was watered by the blaming whispers and the pointed fingers had sprouted in my mind, embedding its root deeper as the years went by.

"People say she did it on purpose."

"Oh, dear. Poor woman, her mother is. When I asked her at the funeral about what happened exactly she just sobbed and said that the girl took him from them."

"Do you think she did it on purpose? I mean, she's just a child."

"I don't know, but when I asked her mom she told me not to talk about that devil's spawn. Her words, not mine. And well, she didn't deny it, so..."

"I heard from a neighbor of theirs that the girl wasn't right in the head. Poor Albert. He was such a kind soul, taking in a kid that wasn't his."

"They've been trying for years to have kids. Just when he's about to be a father to a child from his own flesh and blood, the girl kills him. Some people say she was jealous..."

The conversation I had overheard in a park a year after my dad had died, after I had killed him, played in my mind like it was yesterday. It was the same ever since, the whispers and the veiled insults. Gossip fed the rumors, and people spoke about it as if they didn't think a child would understand what they said, or maybe they just didn't care.

The worst part, however, wasn't hearing people talk. The worst part had always been how my mom never corrected anyone. She never stood up for me. She just let everyone believe that the worst of their rumors were true.

And she never corrected anyone when they assumed that the reason I was seeing a psychiatrist was because I was a psychotic child, a kid who'd killed her father because she was jealous of her unborn brother.

In reality, I saw a psychiatric because of the nightmares I had after the incident. My night terrors had been so severe, I would often wake up screaming myself hoarse, terrified out of my mind. The neighbors had reported the disturbances to the police, and my mother had had to take me see a psychiatric.

Remembering the past always left me in a dark mood. After taking a long, hot shower, I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. I didn't bother with dinner because I knew I would just pick at my food. And I wanted to be alone. I didn't want to see anyone, and I didn't want anyone to see me. I just wanted to wallow in my self loath for some time.

There was scratching at my door. Gray. I let him in, and he jumped on my bed, turning twice around himself before settling down in the middle of my bed. I curled around him. It was too early for sleep. The sun was only now setting, painting the clouded sky crimson through my window.

Gray raised his head and gave my cheek a lick, drawing a tired smile out of me. Maybe a nap would do me some good. But the moment I closed my eyes, all I could see was the hurt in Ezra's gaze when I told him that he didn't understand, that he didn't care.

Utter nonsense. He probably cared about me more than I did myself. He had been through so much already. He'd lost his siblings and watched his mom lay almost lifeless for years. And I dared tell him that he couldn't understand.

How could I do that...

"How could you do that! You just ruin everything! We took you in and look what you did! you ungrateful brat!"

My mother's words rang in my ears, echoing my own thoughts and hitting close to home. How could I have said that to Ezra of all people?

He and the others had been nothing but kind and welcoming. They accepted me in their midst, cared about me and protected me. They shared their lives with me, and I couldn't even come clean about my past.

"Why do I ruin every home I find?" I whispered to myself, swallowing past the lump in my throat.

With a huff, I sat up. I would drive myself crazy doing nothing, so I pulled out some material from tomorrow's class and turned on the bedside light.

Math class. A class I shared with him. I sat up against the headboard and groaned. How could I even look at him after what happened today? He must hate me. I hit the back of my head against the headboard, blinking back the tears.

A knock on the door. My heart flipped in my chest. Was it Ezra? Another knock came followed by Haley's voice. "Orla?"

Oh. I didn't know whether I was disappointed or relieved. I cleared my throat and wiped my face. "Come in!"

Haley stuck her head inside. She scanned the room then barged in.

"Thank God Ezra isn't here. I need your help with this crap," Haley said, closing the door behind her and waving papers around.

"Math?" I said, taking a peek at the papers in her hands. I scooted over, and she plopped down beside me.

"Yep! I think my hair is turning white." Her amber eyes latched onto my face, flashing with a knowing glint, before she began rambling about how useless math was.

I helped her out the best I could. The homework took my mind off things. Everything reminded me of him. Even the unknown 'z' in the exercise sheet had me remembering his name. I was in too deep.

"Yes! I actually did it!" Haley hooted, a huge grin on her face. "I think I could actually pass this stupid class if you were the one teaching instead of that old man. He makes everything seem so complicated."

I smiled, shaking my head at her. She put her papers on the nightstand and turned to face me, crossing her legs.

"Alright, spill," she said.

"Spill what?"

"What's wrong? There's something going on and I'm guessing it has to do with Ezra since he's nowhere to be seen."

Looking down at my lap, I picked at the fabric of my pajama pants.

"I just-" I sighed. "I think I messed up."

"You messed up?" she asked with an arched brow.

"I said something I didn't mean, and I-" I bit my lip. "I think he might hate me."

Haley looked at me for two seconds. Then she threw her head back and laughed. I jumped at the loud sound. Gray snapped his head up, his ears twitching as he looked at her. She slapped the bed with one hand, the other holding her stomach.

I blinked, knocked off kilter by the unexpected reaction. Okay...?

After a few minutes, Haley finally composed herself. She let out a deep breath, a full grin teasing her lips.

"I'm sorry, but this is the funniest shit I've heard in a while," she said, shaking her head," I mean, the guy is crazy about you, Orla! You could cut off his dick and he'll hand you his balls on a silver platter. He wouldn't even be mad at you, let alone hate you!"

"Oh my God, Haley!" I squeaked, my eyes wide and and my cheeks burning.

She sighed and leaned closer to me, her eyes bright and clear. "Look, I don't know much about relationships. And I don't know what you said or what he did to make you say it. But I do know one thing, if there was one truth in this world that you should believe in, then it should be this: Anything that Ezra does is because he has your good in mind, he would never do anything to purposefully upset or hurt you. Not if he can help it."

The strong conviction behind her words pierced through the layer of self pity and doubt and shredded it to pieces. I found myself nodding, a warmth spreading through my chest when her words rang as the truth in my mind.

"What do I do?" I asked. Feeling more like myself. I had to make things right. I had to do something, because Ezra wouldn't hate me. Right?

"Talk to him," Haley said. "Make things right. Like I said, I have no idea what went down between you two. But you should talk to him and tell him you didn't mean what you said. You'd be surprised how easy it is to talk things through. Words are strong. They can ruin things, but they also have the potential to fix them if they come from the right place."

Haley paused. Her eyes widened. "Thank God Sam and Hayden aren't here. They would have made fun of how I sounded just like Grandma right now."

I laughed and threw my arms around her. She hugged me back just as tight, patting my head.

We chatted for a bit more before she stole Gray and left me with a promise of chocolate truffles as payment for helping her with math.

I leaned back against the headboard and looked at the dark window, thinking about Haley's words. I wanted to tell him that I didn't mean what I'd said, that I knew he cared for me, and that I was sorry I said he wouldn't understand. I wanted to tell him that I didn't want to be left alone. I didn't want him to leave me alone.

And I had to tell him about everything and just get it over with. He could make his own decision, draw his own conclusion.

It downed on me that I'd been acting like a pathetic little girl who was too afraid to do the right thing. When in the world did I turn into such a sissy? I frowned to myself and slapped my face with both my hands.

"Ow," I mumbled, rubbing my stinging cheeks.

With new found determination, I decided that I would find Ezra first thing in the morning and talk to him.

I wasn't sure if I would be able to tell him about that subject, but I sure as heck was going to try. I, at least, wanted him to understand why I was acting all depressed. And why I couldn't celebrate my own birthday.

I fluffed my pillow and laid my head on it, closing my eyes in an attempt to find sleep.

Which didn't come.

I huffed and turned in bed for what felt like ages before sitting up with a scowl. I groaned. I knew exactly why I couldn't sleep. So, gathering whatever courage I had, I made my way out.

Once out of the cabin's back door, the cold night air bit at my nose. I sniffed. I was halfway to his cabin when his door opened and Ezra stepped out. He was carrying a blanket and a pillow.

We looked at each other for a moment before he blurred and then he was in front of me. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

The garden lights were pinpricks of light in his dark eyes. Concern was etched in his face as he ran his gaze over me.

How could he be so worried about me even after what I said to him?

My heart warmed with a strong emotion. An emotion that I recognized this time. An emotion that made my heart beat faster.

"Orla?" he asked, stepping closer. There was no blame in his eyes, no accusation, just affection and concern. I really was such a bitch.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. He nodded at me, his smile encouraging. My throat closed up. I bit my bottom lip to keep it from trembling and looked down.

Ugh! You don't have any right to cry!

Blinking hard, I raised my head. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

Ezra's face softened. His free arm tugged me into his warm chest. He kissed my temple. "Let's get in."

His arm still around me, we went into my cabin. Ezra dropped the pillow and the blanket on the couch and wrapped me in one of his big hugs.

"I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry if-"

"Shh. It's okay, baby. I'm sorry too, for pushing you into a corner like that," he said. "I just didn't like seeing you close on me like that. I know there's something bothering you, today more than usual, and I want to help. I want you to let me in, Orla. I need you to let me in. You don't have to carry it all on your own."

I blinked hard to push back the tears.

On my own.

I have been on my own for so long that it felt foreign to let someone in, truly let someone in.

Even though I had friends here, even though I found a place that felt like home, deep inside, I was still on my own.

I was so used to it that I didn't even realize I was dealing with everything all alone. Nothing had really changed.

"Okay," I whispered and pulled back to see his face.

He gave me one of his breathtaking smiles. "Okay."

The world spinned, and I found myself being carried by Ezra up the stairs.

"What are you doing?" I squeaked, holding onto his neck like a monkey.

"Bed," was his only reply.

"What about what you left on the couch?" I asked. "Were you going to sleep somewhere before we met outside?"

"I was coming to sleep here, on the couch," he said, walking inside my room and pushing the door close with his foot. "I tried to sleep in my room but I couldn't."

"I couldn't sleep, too," I mumbled as we laid on my bed, facing each other. I scooted closer, and he stretched his arm so I could pillow my head on it as I usually did. His other hand played with my hair.

I breathed out. The world was right again.

I was suddenly hit by the urge to tell him. To try and let someone in. To let him in. I didn't want to be on my own anymore.

"Please don't hate me when I tell you," I whispered.

His eyes softened. He shook his head, almost in disbelief. "Do you really think I could ever hate you?"

He looked almost... amused by the idea. Remembering Haley's words, I shook my head. "No?"

He chuckled. "That would never happen, sweetheart."

He took my hand and kissed my knuckles. My skin tingled as he pressed my hand to his chest.

What was the best way to tell him? After a few minutes of consideration, I realized there would never be a 'best way'. Not for something like this.

My heart raced at the words on the tip of my tongue. It was like standing on the edge of a cold pool, dreading the jump into the freezing water but knowing it was coming. I took a deep breath, and jumped in.

"I killed my father on my eighth birthday."

He didn't react. Calm and reassuring, Ezra nodded. "Go on."

My throat was suddenly dry. I gulped.

"It was my birthday party. I didn't know why I snuck into his office. Probably because I wasn't allowed to go there. Anyway, I remember the door was ajar, so I walked in and played around in his desk for a while. I found a- a gun in one of the drawers." I took a shuddering breath and lowered my gaze to Ezra's chest.

"I thought it was a toy gun. Dad and I used to play cop, and I thought the gun was just a toy. My father found me playing with it, and I guess the safety was off because one second my father was telling me to put it down, and the next there was a loud boom and my father was laying on the ground. I just wanted to play so I pulled the trigger. The gun was pointed towards him. I shot him in the chest and he just dropped to the ground, unmoving. There was so much blood. On his white shirt. On the ground. I tried to wake him up but-"

Ezra's t-shirt turned blurry. He pulled me to his chest, rubbing my back. I was sobbing, I realized. The tightness in my throat spread to my chest. The assault of memories stripped me of the ability to breathe.

So I just let everything out. I had never spoken about this to anyone. I hadn't in my old town because I didn't really have friends. And people liked believing their own versions of the incidents rather than ask me about it; the psychotic girl who killed her father.

"Shh. It's okay baby. It's okay, now," Ezra mumbled into my hair, his voice firm over the sound of my cries.

I cried in his embrace, feeling like I was mourning my father for the first time, feeling the guilt eat up at me like it had been doing all these years. I cried and he held me, murmuring soft words and rubbing my back and my hair. I didn't know how much time had passed, minutes or hours, but my sobs were finally reduced to gasps and hiccups. And I could breathe again.

I let out a shaky sigh and pulled back, eyeing the dark wet spot on his t-shirt.

"I'm sorry-" hiccup "-about your-" hiccup "-shirt."

"It's fine." He wiped my cheeks and dipped his head to kiss my forehead. "Orla?"

I hummed but didn't meet his gaze. I was afraid of what I would find there. I didn't want him to look at me any differently. I didn't know if I would be able to bear that.

"Look at me, sweetheart," he said. Gentle and firm.

Steeling myself, I looked at him. His eyes were the familiar warm darks I had come to love. Filled to the brim with so much affection and love that I didn't think was possible.

"Baby, you shouldn't feel guilty about it. You didn't do it on purpose," he said.

I shrugged a shoulder, tears gathering in my eyes again. "They were trying for children for years before they adopted me. A year after that, my mom got pregnant. Dad was so happy about it. But I took that away from him. I took him away from my mom. My brother will never know his father because of me. It's my fault."

"No." He cupped my cheek, brushing away a tear with his thumb. "It's not your fault, Orla. I don't care what anyone else says. You were a child, you didn't know that would happen. You shouldn't have been near a weapon in the first place. It's not your fault, do you hear me?"

It was the closest his tone had ever come to scolding. It cracked the hard shell of guilt and shame wrapped around my heart. It was as if all this time, all I needed was someone to say it. Someone to tell me that it hadn't been my fault. Someone to reassure me that I wasn't a murdered.

"Orla, do you understand? Don't blame yourself."

"Okay. I'll try," I whispered, even though I still had a long time to go before I could completely shed off the guilt.

"We can work with that for now."

"You don't think any different of me?" I asked, a sliver of uncertainly making my voice small.

His lips curved. "Never. You're still the most beautiful, kind person I'd ever met. And I don't think that will change."

"You don't know that," I mumbled, feeling heat creep to my cheeks. My heart squeezed with how much love I had for him.

"I do know that." He traced my features with a soft gaze, as if trying to commit every detail of my face to memory. The emotions in his eyes were at once familiar and new, but one eclipsed all the others. One he'd concealed all this time, but of which I caught glimpses every now and then. An emotion that mirrored mine and flashed so bright and clear, he was no longer holding it back.

"I love you, Orla."

--- ---- --- 

Hey guys! I hope you're doing well!

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Also, you guys voted on my Instagram about which days you want the updates to be on, and the results are: Saturday and Wednesday.

I hope I can keep this schedule. Wish me luck!

So I'll see on Saturday with another update.

Much love <3 <3 <3

M.B.