Page 46 of Rush
Cage is staring at me like I’m a freak. His hands are up. He’s scared. I don’t blame him. I’m scared too. I didn’t think it would get this far. I didn’t think she’d walk in.
Then I hear her voice. Her footsteps. And then…
She’s here.
She runs into the room and stops when she sees me. The gun. Cage. Her eyes go wide, and I see the fear, but she steps in front of him anyway. Of course she does.
She always protects him. Just like she used to protect me.
I used to feel safe when she was around. When my ribs were bruised and my arms hurt, she was the only one who noticed. She gave me snacks, let me sit inside when I didn’t want to go outside, told me I didn’t have to talk when the words wouldn’t come. She never yelled. She never made fun of me. She just… cared.
I didn’t want her here. Not like this.
“You ruined everything,” I cry, and I hate the way my voice sounds. It breaks and shakes, and it makes me sound like a little kid. But I can’t help it. Everything's breaking. I feel like I’m about to fall into a hole and disappear.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Michaels,” I cry. The tears are coming fast now. I can’t stop them. “I don’t know what else to do.”
I mean it. God, I mean it. I didn’t plan to say that. It just came out. But it’s the truth. I really don’t know what else to do.
“Cage honey, I need you to go upstairs,” she says in that soft voice she uses when someone’s scared. She’s trying to keep him calm, trying to protect him. She’s always protecting someone. “Rush, talk to me. What’s going on?”
I want to tell her everything. I want to let her fix it. But she can’t.
Cage doesn’t move. I almost wish he would. I don’t want him here. I don’t want to do this in front of him.
“Move upstairs now. Don’t come down, no matter what happens,” she hisses. “Listen to me, Cage. Do it, now.”
He finally runs. I hear the stairs creak, and a small part of me unclenches. He’s out of the way. That’s good.
But I’m still here, with her—and the gun.
I start pacing because if I stop moving I might do it. I might shoot her without meaning to. My thoughts are spinning too fast. My voice is muttering on its own. I don’t know what I’m saying anymore.
“Rush,” she says again, gently.
I want her to stop saying my name like that. It makes it harder.
A sob rips through me. I can’t hold it in anymore. I want her to hold me. I want to cry into her shoulder like I used to imagine doing on the really bad days. But I can’t. I can’t drop the gun.
If I do, he’ll hurt Ruby. And I can’t let him.
“I don’t want to be here, Ms. Michaels. I really don’t. But I have no choice.”
My voice is cracking. Everything inside me feels like glass, ready to shatter. I want her to understand. I need her to.
“Why don’t you have a choice?” she asks.
Her voice is still soft. She thinks I’m reachable. Maybe I am. But it won’t matter.
“My dad,” I snarl. Saying it makes my stomach twist. “He’s got my sister. He’s going to hurt her. I have to do this to save her. I can’t let him hurt her again.”
There. It’s out. The thing I wasn’t supposed to say.
Her face changes. Not anger. Just sadness. Real sadness.
“How old is she?” she asks.
“She’s six,” I hiss. My voice sounds like something cornered. “This is all your fault.”
