Read Online The Rush by Rachel Higginson - Free Book Online Page B

intimate love song that made innocent girls blush and not so innocent girls horny. But it was all lost to me while Sam’s name bounced back and forth in my brain inciting the kind of drowning panic I was becoming too familiar with.
    I didn’t want to talk to Kenna about Sam. I didn’t want to talk to Kenna about anything anymore. My hands started trembling, freezing up into stiff joints and unusable fingers, so I shoved them deep into the pockets of my jeans. But no matter how hard I fought against the spreading ache in my chest or tried to ignore the quickly spiraling thoughts leading me into very dangerous territory, he was still there, still heavy in my head. Sam. Ugh, Sam . Heat prickled against the back of my eyes and I felt my nose start running in a sure sign tears were on their way.
                  Damn it.
                  “I’m going to the bathroom,” I shouted sharply against the soft smoothness of Ryder’s acoustic solo and then left Kenna alone.
                  I was gone too fast to know if she replied, I just hoped she didn’t try to follow me. I was so not in the mood for sympathy or worse…. pity. I pushed into the equally dim bathroom and immediately turned on the faucet. I ran my hands under the hot water and scrubbed at the invisible germs I felt caking my skin, clinging to me like grease and filth and tried to scrape away the guilt and self-loathing.
                  I took a stuttering breath and allowed one tear to slip from my right eye. The lonely drop made a trail down my cheek, ending at my jawline and falling to my t-shirt where it left a small wet spot. A screech of frustration followed, echoing in the long tiled bathroom. I slammed my hands against the wet counter, splashing water on my jeans and bare arms.
    One more tear was allowed freedom , landing on my shirt where it was lost in the other water spots left from the counter splash and then I decided to get ahold of myself. I slowed down my scrubbing and inhaled deeply. I counted to five and then I forced my eyes to the mirror.
                  It was easy to avoid mirrors usually. Most of the time I wished I never had to look at my face ever again. I didn’t care what I looked like. I didn’t want to care what I looked like. And I really didn’t want to see the accusing, hate-filled eyes that I knew would be staring back at me.
    But I still made myself do it.
    I had to get through this with my mind intact. My soul was shot to all hell, and my emotions were one tear-fest away from a doctor-recommended Xanax prescription. But I had my mind. My mind was my savior, my ticket out of here, my future. I had to stay sharp.
    That meant facing my demons .
    At least some of them.
    I turned the water off and gripped the sides of the sink basin. I slid my eyes upwards and readied my nerves to face myself.
    Rich auburn hair streaked with brighter reddish gold highlights pulled up high on my head. Deep, disturbingly green, emerald eyes. Plump, perfectly bowed red lips. Flawless skin. And that small smattering of freckles across the bridge of my nose.
    Mine was the kind of face that guys didn’t forget and girls hated on principal. I was a genetic mistake. A freak of nature and fate and a curse.
    My face was a curse.
    I stared myself down and dared my heart to give up now.
    Sam. Sam didn’t die. Sam is alive. I am alive. Sam will get better one day. Sam has to get better one day. And I will be better one day. One day, I will leave this all behind.
    One day I will be free.
    It was a practiced mantra, one that I said constantly to myself. And it worked. I molded my mouth into a smile, tightened my hair-knot and rubbed at my bottom lip since I hadn’t brought Chapstick with me.
    I shook my hands of left over water and then reached for a paper towel. This was my night of absolute reprieve from my life. I could put up with Kenna and Ryder for a little while longer if it meant I didn’t have