Page 1 of Please Don’t Go (The Midnight Strike #1)

JOSEFINE

I knew one day I’d meet death face to face, but I didn’t expect it to be like this. And I certainly didn’t expect it to not feel terrifying.

I guess that happens when you come to terms with it. When you stop fighting the current that keeps dragging you under. When you finally cave and let it take you. When you accept taking the grim reaper’s hand. Though I’ve not taken his hand yet, but I will.

I just need a few more seconds to…well, I’m not sure what exactly it is that I’m doing. Feeling something isn’t going to happen.

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 inhale deeply; the salty air fills my lungs and a faint taste of salt coats my tongue. I’ll be getting more of that soon—and water, a lot of it.

Taking a step closer, I neither falter nor feel my heart ricochet the way it used to when I knew I was in danger or was about to get hurt.

No, my body and brain have accepted what’s to come.

It’s why I don’t seize with fear as the ground beneath my shoes erodes.

The small rocks roll off, tumbling and smacking against the cliffside, but within seconds, the sound gets lost to the harsh noise of the waves crashing violently.

They’re loud, the impact so strong it reverberates like an endless roar.

One more inhale.

One last glance at the moon.

I close my eyes, meet the grim reaper’s wicked smile as he stretches his bony hand for me to take, and step forward.

But I falter, then freeze in my spot, at the sound of a deep masculine voice.

No one should be here. It’s close to midnight—I think—and it’s Christmas Eve or Day. I’m not sure what time it is exactly because I didn’t bring my phone.

I came now because of how dark it’d be and because I knew I’d be completely alone. It’s perfect because in the darkness, I easily blend in. Though it really doesn’t matter. Even in the daytime, I’m nobody to everyone.

My eyebrows furrow because this is the second thing not going according to plan.

The first is that the moon is full. It’s so blindingly bright, I see its reflection on the surface of the dark blue water.

And I hate that because seeing its reflection is like seeing mine. All I see is all my failures and insecurities. They’re all bouncing back at me, mocking me, taunting me.

The second is that he, whoever he is, is here.

The third is that I hesitated. I wasn’t supposed to do that. I should already be dead.

Goddammit, I can’t even do this right.

“Hey.” He treads carefully. His footsteps are faint behind me. “What are?—”

“I was here first. Go away,” I harshly clip.

“Can you take a few steps back?”

“No. Go away.”

“Please don’t do this,” he pleads. His words bounce off my ears and fall down the cliff, sinking or being taken away by the waves, the way the small rocks did.

“Go. Away.”

“Please don’t do this,” he repeats, and again, his words do nothing for me.

“I said go away,” I grit, my molars aching from how hard I’m grinding them.

“I know you probably think this is the easy way out, but it’s not. I promise you it’s not.” His voice floods with desperation as I hear him take another step. “Think about the people who are going to miss you.”

His words are weighted, pain filled, and desperately aching to be heard.

For the first time in a long time, I laugh. But there’s no humor behind it; it’s hollow, bitter, almost tastes like bile as it tumbles out of my mouth. “No one is going to miss me.”

“Don’t say that. They are.” He exhales pressingly and urgently.

“I have no one,” I voice indifferently…emptily.

I’m not saying that for pity, it’s the truth. I pushed everyone away, and the only person who I was the closest to by blood, died.

My words must hold some kind of weight because seconds stretch and the silence extends. I don’t hear him, so maybe he left.

Making up my mind, once again, I go to take a step, but I stop when I hear the sound of footsteps. Before I can tell him to go away, he’s standing right next to me.

I’m taken aback and I have to crane my head up to look at him because he’s taller than me. My brows pinch and something stirs in my chest, but I can’t distinguish whether it’s annoyance, anger, or both.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I add some distance between us.

His hand quickly stretches out, but he doesn’t grab me. It must’ve been a knee-jerk reaction because he drops it and stares straight ahead.

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

A cool breeze sweeps by us, and my skin pebbles, but it’s the effect of his words that cause the goose bumps to linger.

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.

I don’t know why I’m entertaining this conversation when I’m still going to go through with it. I have no desire or will to live and I’m okay with going out this way.

“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.”

My brows hike up and something whirls in my chest, but it’s not anger or annoyance. His name sounds familiar, but I’m not sure where I’ve heard it from. Either way, I don’t ruminate on what I’m feeling or his name.

“I’m not your friend,” I immediately retort. “I’ve made up my mind. Go away.”

“I will, if you go with me.”

Reining in my frustration, I blow out a fatigued breath. “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.”

He chuckles; it’s low but hearty, easygoing. “I mean nothing to you, but you’re concerned about my safety?”

“Go away…please.” I don’t mean to but my voice cracks.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

That must have sobered him up because he quiets down. I think he gets closer, but I don’t look.

“I don’t like this time of the year.” He despondently sighs, like the words were heavy to say out loud. But now that they’ve been said, they remain in the air, polluting the space between us.

I’m caught off guard by what he just shared with me. Still, I say nothing because I don’t know how to respond to that. For all I know, he could be lying.

“A few years ago, I…lost someone.” He chuckles but it sounds like mine did a few minutes ago. Real. Raw. And empty. “And this upcoming year, I’m hoping to enter the MLB draft and it feels weird because that was our dream. To do it together.”

I still say nothing, and either he knows I have nothing to say or he thinks I’m waiting for him to explain what he means by that.

“I’m a shortstop for MCU,” he says.

Monterey Coastal University.

I went there before it all went to shit. I want to voice that out loud, but I can’t. My lips feel glued together. The reminder of my first year there and everything that transpired after makes me feel so many things I wish I didn’t.

“I don’t care.” I bristle.

It’s a shit thing to say, but I hope it’s mean enough he’ll get the memo, but somehow Daniel doesn’t. Or he does but he doesn’t care.

The moon is bright enough, it bathes him with its light, giving me just enough to see him from my periphery. He shrugs, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“No one knows, but friends confide in each other, so I thought I’d share it with you.” It’s a simple statement, but something so definite.

My brows pull together at his words. They settle on my chest, but they don’t feel like stones. More like…feathers…weightless.

As I see him turn his head, I quickly look away. I don’t want him to know that his words have somehow penetrated a part of me. Blinking, I quietly sigh, and toss his words out, letting them sink.

“Don’t share anything else. I don’t care,” I adamantly warn.

“Then share something with me.”

I say nothing because there’s nothing to say.

So, I let my head hang, staring at the roaring water as it collides against the large slab of rock. Every time it does, the air whooshes, blowing against me. A reminder, a glimpse, a tease at what’s to come.

“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.

I wish it sounded useless and something to fill the space, which feels all too tight and suffocating. Comical considering I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, staring at the ocean that stretches miles beyond.

My head jerks back, and I don’t realize what I’m doing until my head is turned, tipped to look up at him. He’s already looking down at me, and while I can’t see his face well, I know his eyes are on me.

They feel intense, like they’ve dug deep in my brain, and self-consciously, I fold my arms against my chest.

“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.”

My skin itches, anxiety crawling all over my body. And my heart races as if I had done laps at the pool.

“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…”

My heart painfully expands against my rib cage, the beats near deafening, drowning out the noises around me. Giving me the final push to end it all. And so I do. I close my eyes and take purposeful steps toward the very edge of the cliff.

But the fall never comes.

Only arms—strong, thick, and weighted around my torso.

Hauling and holding me back.

Grounding me.

Saving me.

Protecting me.

“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.”

I don’t know how many times he repeats those three words. I don’t know how many times they’re uttered in gentle whispers next to my ear. But they sound more like a prayer than a chant now. A plea to whoever is listening.

To you. He’s pleading with you! a voice in my head screams.

I blink out of my stupor, feeling oddly conflicted, and something weird cracks in my chest.

“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.”