Page 34 of Rush

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I look at her. Her eyes are dark and steady.

"You stopped," she says. "You had control. You could have kept going but you didn't."

"I barely stopped."

"Barely still counts."

She reaches out and takes my hand, the one with blood on it, and the touch grounds me in a way nothing else could.

"Come on," she says. "Let's get you cleaned up."

We end up at her flat ten minutes later. She makes me sit on the couch while she gets the first aid kit.

My hands have stopped shaking but my mind is racing, replaying the moment over and over.

The way he pushed her against the wall, the way he called her names, the satisfaction I felt when my fist connected.

"Give me your hand," Everly says.

I hold it out and she wipes the blood away with a damp cloth. Her touch is gentle, and it makes something in my chest crack.

"It's not deep," she says. "You'll be fine."

"I almost didn't stop."

"But you did."

"You don't understand. When I saw him touch you, something broke loose and I wanted to kill him."

She's quiet for a second, then she says, "He pushed me against a wall and called me a cunt. I'm glad you hit him."

"I did more than hit him."

"I know, I was there."

"And that doesn't scare you?"

She looks up at me. "No."

"It should."

"Why? Because you're capable of violence? I told you, I grew up around men like you. My dad's broken bones over less."

"That's different."

"How?"

"Because your dad has control. He knows when to stop."

"So do you. You stopped today."

I pull my hand away. "I barely stopped. If you hadn't said my name I would have kept going."

"But I did say your name, and you stopped. That's what matters."

I stand up and start pacing. The energy is still there crackling under my skin.

"You need to stay away from me," I say.

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