Read Online Rush by Daniel Mason - Free Book Online

the shower, blood running from her mouth and swirling with the water down the drain. I said, ‘Fuck,’ and closed the door.
    I went to the bedroom and started packing my things. I threw some of my clothes—some of Hayes’ clothes—into a bag. I lit another cigarette and cursed repeatedly. I punched a wall.
    Rubbing my knuckles I returned to the bathroom, which had completely filled with steam. I rolled up my sleeves. I opened the shower door. Phoebe was conscious again. She was sitting with her head in her hands, sobbing under the flow of water. I could hear each whimper, a low and barely audible sound. I pinched my cigarette out of my mouth and said again, ‘Are you okay in there?’
    She didn’t look at me, shook her head.
    â€˜This is a fucking disaster,’ I said.
    Still, she didn’t look at me.
    I said, ‘Come on out of there.’
    She looked at me now with pathetic eyes. Her hair was plastered to her skull. She wiped at her nose. She said, ‘I’m sorry.’
    I offered her my hand, felt the warmth of water splash against me. She took it. I hauled her from the shower and she collapsed against me for support.
    We stood there awkwardly. I tried to push her away. Her wet body clung tight to me.
    She reached up and plucked the cigarette from my hand, put it to her own mouth. I felt her lungs draw in, her body briefly ease away from me. When she was done, she placed the cigarette carefully back between my fingers. She breathed smoke against me.
    She tried to kiss me, angling up, lips reaching my own at a skewed angle. Her eyes were closed. She tasted like smoke and the blood that had run from her nose down her throat. Her face was wet and she held the back of my neck. I wondered if she could feel the pulse of my tumour as it sent vibrations down my spine.
    I pushed her away. ‘No,’ I said.
    I pried her away from me. She said, ‘Am I ugly to you?’
    I stared at her. Her eyes were bloodshot. I stubbed my cigarette out in the sink. I said, ‘Right now, you are.’
    She said, ‘I’m sorry.’
    I shrugged and went back to packing my bag.
    She came to the doorway wrapped in a towel. Her head was bowed in shame. She told me that I shouldn’t go. Please, don’t go. This won’t happen again. Promise.
    I kept on packing my things.
    She came to me and let the towel fall away. To me she was small and frail, afraid. She begged me not to go. She took my hand and placed it on her body. She said, ‘Please.’
    I stared her cold and hard in the eye. There was nothing but fear and shame in her. Strands of wet hair hung over her red-rimmed eyes. I brushed them aside with the back of my hand.
    She said, ‘Please.’ I felt the warmth of her body where she held my hand low on her thigh.
    I bit my lip and pulled away. Lit a cigarette. Stood there with my arms crossed.
    Tears were welling in her eyes. Her lips were trembling. She sat heavily on the bed with a sigh, and attempted to control herself. But the tears came. She began to sob.
    I stood over her.
    I offered her my cigarette. She warily accepted. She crossed one arm over her breasts. She exhaled smoke. She asked me, ‘Will you stay?’
    I leaned in close to her and I said, ‘Don’t fuck up again.’
    She told me that she wouldn’t. I smiled and took the cigarette, blew smoke over her. She reached out to touch the side of my face with her hand. I dropped the cigarette to the carpet. Stepped on it with my shoe. I took Phoebe by both her wrists, held them apart from her.
    Her lips tasted now like tears.
    I told myself that I wouldn’t hesitate if I needed to get rid of her.
    I forced her back against the sheets. There was still fear in her eyes. I released one of her wrists and loosened my pants, guided myself in with one hand. I didn’t look her in the eye.
    When I woke later, half clothed on the bed, Phoebe was no longer beside me. The light to the