Ettore is scared by my reaction. He, shaken, turns away from me, but his hands still cup my face, concern filling his eyes. — Elizabeth, what happened? Are you well?
I place my hands on his chest and push him away as I stand up to sit, pulling my legs to my chest, hugging them. I shake my head for him to give me a minute and take a deep breath, aware that Ettore is watching me very closely, curious to know what caused my reaction.
I try to push the words out of my head. His mother yelling at me that I killed him, his father telling me he wished it had been me instead of him, and his brother telling me it was entirely my fault. That I do not deserve to ever have that kind of love again.
I tremble with just the thoughts, collecting myself, preparing myself for the questions I am waiting f
