Please Don't Go (The Midnight Strike, #1)

by E. Salvador

To anyone who’s ever felt they didn’t deserve to be seen. I see you. I’m so happy you are here!

I stopped feeling anything a long time ago. I tried, maybe not enough, but I did what I could. At least what I thought I should do, but it was futile because I’m here and I’ll be gone soon. Gone and most definitely forgotten. And I have no one to blame but myself.

“I will miss you,” he says after a moment of silence. The words roll off his tongue casually, as if we’re friends.

I can’t remember the last time someone said that to me. “Don’t say that. You don’t know me.” I stare straight ahead, still keeping distance between us.

“My name is Daniel Garcia, but my friends call me Danny.” His words are soft, but friendly, laid-back almost as if he were talking to a friend. “And now you’re my friend, so call me Danny.”

“This isn’t going to play out the way you’re envisioning. You telling me your name means nothing to me. You mean nothing to me. I mean nothing to you. So do us both a favor and get the fuck away from here before you slip and fall.”

“I will miss you.” His words penetrate me again, but again, I swat them away. Words, that’s all they are. Meaningless and insignificant; anyone can say them and make you feel special. “We may not know each other, but I will miss you, and I won’t forget you,” Daniel adds.

“You can’t miss someone you don’t know,” I angrily snap. “Then let me know you,” he counters determinedly. “I want to know you.”

“No, you want to save me, and you think that’s going to happen, but I’ve come to terms with my decision.” I shake my head, feeling my resolve almost crumble before me. The idea of me jumping off is slipping away. Licking my lips, I blow out a committed but weary breath. “I don’t know what to…feel.” My voice cracks. “And I’m done trying to…understand…”

“Please don’t go. Please don’t go. Please don’t go…” Daniel chants under his breath over and over again. “Please don’t go.”

“Please don’t go,” he delivers incessantly, vigorously, but delicately. “Please, please, please don’t go.” He doesn’t just hold me; he embraces me. His chest is firmly pressed against my back, and I realize then that the loud drumming isn’t coming from the water. It’s coming from him. It’s his heart that’s racing at a dangerous speed, all too rapidly, all too thunderous against me. “Please don’t go.”

I have a mixed, complicated relationship with this time of the year. It gets dark sooner, a little chillier at night, drags by excruciatingly slow, and reminds me of my brother.

“I told you Santa wouldn’t fail us,” Adrian would always say. Even when he was old enough to know he didn’t exist, he’d jokingly still say it. What I’d do to hear it again.

Kill Me 😭

I needed to clear my head and stop the dark thoughts consuming me. But they didn’t stop and then self-loathing came. They’re a destructive and deadly combination. They choked and submerged me under the murky water, until I was practically drowning. But I stopped drowning once I saw her.

I hold her, wishing I could take all her pain away. I hold her like my life depends on it. I’ll hold her until morning if I have to. I’ll keep holding her until I can’t any longer because how the fuck am I supposed to let go?

“Please don’t go,” I punctuate strongly but softly. I plead with everything I’ve got because my words are all I have. I don’t know what else to offer, what else to give to her in hopes she won’t go. “Please, please, please don’t go.”

A small part of me is angry at her. It wants to ask her—what the hell was she thinking? But the biggest part of me feels so hopeless. I have no idea what to do, what to give, what to say to make sure she stays.

“I wish you would have let me go.” “I couldn’t.” I don’t know why, but I blindly reach for her hand and surprisingly when my fingers brush along hers, she lets me hold it. “I’m here for you, Josefine.”

Ahhhhhhhh im so saddd

Didn’t mean for you to witness that. I promise I didn’t jump. I don’t know how many times I reread it, and even though I believe she didn’t, my chest still feels heavy, and a sense of sadness washes over me. Why didn’t I ask her for her last name? Why didn’t I give her my number? Out of all the questions I could’ve asked, I asked for her favorite color. Way to go, dumbass.

I read my name at the top, centering my vision on the blue dot that apparently shows I’m in the middle of the ocean. “You piece of shit!” He punches me again and snatches the bottle from my hand and takes a long drag from it. “Almost gave me fucking heart attack!” he shouts and chugs the rest of my beer. “Jesus—” “Yeah, I thought you were meeting him right now!”

We also came to realize that our dialect is different because he’s Puerto Rican and I’m Mexican. Because we were young and hella immature, we taught each other all the bad words. Good times.

“I told you being single is the way to go. You’re young, Danny. Don’t tie yourself down to anyone. Let me teach you all the ways, young grasshopper. You have so much to learn from the master.” “You’re a dumbass. We’re the same age. And I don’t need to learn anything from you. Haven’t you heard? I’m a slut.”

“Who slut-shamed you? I’ll fight them.” “Unless you’re willing to go to jail for hitting a girl, I suggest you not do that.” “These hands aren’t rated E for everyone. But I don’t think you’re a slut, Danny boy. A whore maybe, but not a slut.”

I want to because the thought of her jumping is fucking with my head, but I feel and think too much. So many have called me empathetic, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but I’ve been screwed over by it.

“Thanks, man. You don’t have to be here with me, but I really appreciate it. And⁠—” He lifts a hand to stop me from talking. “Please don’t get sappy. We’re bad boys for life, okay? I’m always going to be here for you.” I cringe but laugh. “Please stop saying that, but know I’m always going to be here for you too.” “Okay, enough. We’re doing too much.”

I have no desire to jump because now I’m scared, but I’m mad because I don’t feel anything and I’m still alone.

I could still do it, end my life, and no one would notice but Daniel’s incessant—please don’t go—words, echo in my head. They occur abruptly and randomly. That’s the only reason why I haven’t ended it all. Why I’m still here despite how fucking lonely I feel.

The guy who pulled me back before I ended it all. The guy who held me while I broke down. The guy who watched the stars with me. The same guy who gripped me all night like his life depended on it.

My tire blowing out didn’t cause my heart to race, but his words do?

Leave it to Angel to be a dick, but at least he’s an honest one.

“Please…Josie.” I heard my sister call her that. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t say it just to test it out on my tongue. It’s just as pretty as Josefine.

“Can I touch you?” Josefine stares, surprised, and takes a few steps back. “Why?” That sounded better in my head. “Because I need to make sure this is real,” I pathetically admit. “I need to make sure my mind isn’t playing games with me. I—I know this sounds bizarre, but please. I promise I won’t make it weird. I just need to touch you. I need to know I’m not dreaming, Josie.”

Just one inhale, that’s all I take, as I drag the pad of my thumb along the smooth plane of her cheek. My eyes flutter closed for a second before I open them again and tip her head back. I should let go, but when her eyes collide with mine, I’m struck by how little I see and how much I feel. “Josie…” “Hmm?” Her eyes never leave mine. “I’m so happy you’re here.” “You wouldn’t let go.” Her voice wavers, fragile like that night. “I couldn’t and I wouldn’t.”

“You don’t have to worry anymore. You know I’m here. We can go back to pretending we don’t know each other.” “Your favorite color is yellow, but you don’t like neon yellow.” Aside from the slight twitch of her brow, I see nothing. “That doesn’t mean anything,” she hollowly whispers. “That means everything,” I say, filling that empty space.

She’s alive, that’s what you wanted. You touched her, that’s what you needed. There’s nothing left between us.

If you need anything, I’m just a text or call away. I’m so happy you’re here, Jos!

He turns to look at me, eyes flashing with glee before they soften. Then he leans closer and whispers, “I’m so happy you’re here, Josefine.” My brows knit. “Why do you keep saying that?” “Because I am.”

She could be shooting me daggers and I’d welcome it. I’d rather have her eyes on me than not. But only because it’s hard to get a read on her.

“So what would your superpower be?” I ask again. Her knee bounces next to mine, but it’s brief, before she moves it away. “Invisibility, I guess. It’s probably not a good one, but it works.”

“You’re going to have to pick something else.” She looks up at me again, earthy brown eyes a little angry, a little embarrassed. “Why?” “Because I don’t think it’s working. I see you, Jos.”

I swear I just saw her lips crack a smidge. Did she smile? Holy shit, did I just make Josefine smile? It was hardly anything, but I know a smile when I see one. We’re only eight days into the year, but I think that’s probably going to be the highlight of it.

“I want to meet the person who over inflated your ego. I need a word or two with them.” And I want to meet the person who fucked her over. I’ll have more than words with them.

Coach D’Angelo may be forty years old, but that hasn’t stopped anyone from shooting their shot or making thirst edits of him on social media. But I guess I get it. He’s fit, like really fit, always working out and doing things to stay in shape.

“Why are you staring at Wednesday?” Gray questions, green eyes shining with mischief. I stare at him quizzically. “Wednesday?” “Josefine. That’s what everyone calls her,” Gray explains. “You know, because look at her. Sure, she’s hot as fuck, but she’s always looking serious and her personality is nonex⁠—” “Shut the fuck up,” I snap.

Period stand up for your girl to your boys

We’re not friends. I’ve extended my hand and have kept it extended for her, but I doubt she’ll ever take it.

Hugs feel too personal and make me uncomfortably itchy.

I swear I wasn’t looking for him, and I doubt he was looking for me. Somehow, like magnets, we found each other, forced to connect by an odd electrical pull, and now that we’ve connected, it feels hard to look away.

From: Daniel Garcia <danny6garcia@gmail.com> To: Josefine Resendiz <josefineresendiz@gmail.com> Subject: Swimming Lessons Date: Monday, January 13 11:11 PM —————————————————————— Don’t laugh but I don’t know how to swim. I hear you’re the person who makes it possible. How’d you like to make that possible for me? I’m so happy you’re here, Josefine! And I mean that.

Because before the cliff, you didn’t know who I was, even though I knew who you were.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? I don’t give a damn that you’re six foot five, I’ll beat your ass if you touch me again.”