Watching stars fall over our heads

Jude

I remembered I had fists today
I wash my hands and they are red like the sunsets of paradise

Children push their parents away to learn that they will always come back, time after time, no matter what. Jude should have learned to do it sooner in all reality, but the lesson is just as effective even as a teenager. It feels like he has waited years to hear these words, and the ugly sobs return in waves, though there are scarcely any tears left to shed alongside the shaking of his shoulders. It isn't you, Jude. It isn't you, Jude. It isn't you, Jude. It feels like absolution.

"Is that what you did?" It's a pitiful, warbling question half-pressed into her skin. Had coming to the Grounds been the walking away she needed to do? Jude can't deny that she is healing, no matter how slowly, so surely that must lend credence to her words. "I don't know where to walk away to. Everyone else already did." Which has only left ghosts and memories to accompany him through Torchline, making it all the harder to stay there.

Even so, the prospect of leaving makes his stomach twist. He knows she would respect any decision of his, whether that be staying for a week, until the end of the season, or forever. Forever still feels like too much of a burden to Jude. Even as a child, his rearing was split between Torchline and the Greatwood, never fully imposing himself upon either family unit. He thinks maybe it fucked something up in his head, because neither place feels like home now, and staying with anyone but himself makes him feel like a burden - something she might guess at from the furrow in his brow and the way his eyes dance away from hers even as he says, "...okay. Okay." Sucking in a shallow breath, he nods as if it means anything after already giving his agreement. "I...are you sure that's okay though?" He bites his lip, unable to stop fretting. Would she have enough space? Room? Mental energy?

Am I a murderer?
Or did I just kill all my thoughts in self-defense?