Page 72 of Please Don’t Go (The Midnight Strike #1)

JOSEFINE

What are you sorry for?

I thought I could hide what I felt to make you happy.

I skim the empty living room, stalling on the areas where his stuff used to be. I struggle to breathe when I glance at something else. My head spins and my lungs compress painfully the more I look, absorbing the reality of what my life is again.

Dark. Empty. Alone.

My bottom lip wobbles, but I press my lips together to make it stop. That only makes them cast downward and quiver harder.

His friends came and grabbed his stuff. I didn’t want them to.

I didn’t want to hide in my bathroom while they took his stuff.

I wanted him to stay. I wanted to tell him I was capable of loving him.

That I was capable of being enough to help him, but I couldn’t because I knew I wasn’t enough to be what he needed emotionally.

But who am I kidding? I was never going to be what he needed in general.

I inhale a breath, but it gets stuck in the middle of my throat when I spot the gift bag, the one I know holds the picture frames we were supposed to fill.

The flowers he got me are still in the vase in the middle of the island.

The words we shared right here, where I’m standing, stay confined in this space, choking me with the reminders of us.

Letting me know all they’ll be are memories.

Just that.

Suppressing what I feel, I head back up to my room and spend the rest of the week in bed.

April 7th

I stall inside the restroom, not wanting to go to the class he and I have together. I skipped last week because I couldn’t bring myself to see him, but I couldn’t today.

I want to say it’s because I’m so close to being done with classes, but I’d be lying. I just want to see him. Something is wrong with me because I know seeing him will hurt, but I need to anyway. Just one more time. That’s all I want.

I don’t know what I’ll do once I do. I want to believe I’ll keep it cool and not succumb to the emotions I keep suppressing. My brain keeps sending these signals to let it all out, but I don’t need to do that. The last time I did, I almost ended it all.

I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to be sad. I can’t let myself spiral. I just can’t.

Pushing all my thoughts away, I head to the classroom. When I step inside, my chest clenches when I look at the table we sit at. He’s not there yet, but the memories are.

“Josefine.” Professor Carleson waves me over the podium where he stands.

“Hey.”

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know Daniel won’t be joining us anymore due to his baseball commitments.” Everything in me sinks. “But don’t fret. You can join Maddy and Annie.”

He points to the girls sitting in the second row, and they’re looking at me with friendly smiles on their faces. Mine resembles something like it, I think. I’m not sure. I can’t make myself care what’s on my face when the inside of my body is shattering.

April 9th

The endless loop has returned. I don’t know how to get out of it, and it’s driving me crazy. I’m stuck between screaming, crying, or doing nothing. I don’t know how to snap out of it. I don’t know how to be without him.

I can’t even be in my own house anymore because it all smells like him—my room, the living room, the kitchen.

There are little reminders of him every-fucking-where.

From the gift bag still sitting in the living room, the flowers that are now dead, the bear he gave me, the ball he wrote on, the stupid jerseys, the goggles and board, the portable CD player with the disc.

I never finished listening to the songs and I know I never will.

The Post-it notes… I have so many, and I know there’s more in the house, but I won’t look for them.

I need to sell the house. Have someone move everything for me. I can’t be there anymore.

That’s why I’m here on campus. There’s a possibility I could run into him but it’s slim. I’m staying away from all the buildings he has classes in, away from the areas his teammates usually are. His friends probably hate me, the same way Bryson’s friend hated me after I broke up with him.

Unlike Bryson’s friend who I didn’t care for, Daniel’s were different and knowing that’s gone too, fuck, why do I even care? I’m used to being alone.

I’m fine alone.

I repeat that over and over, but when I set foot in the library, the thought dies when I spot Penelope. I haven’t heard from her since the night Daniel got drunk.

I don’t have to wonder how things will be like between us because she turns, stares directly at me, rolls her eyes, and focuses back on her friends.

Right. I saw that coming. After all, they’re siblings. I know how much she cares for him.

I thought I could hide what I felt to make you happy.

I…I’m fine…alone.

April 10th

Sometimes…I wish I was dead.

His resigned words ring in my ears, repeatedly and scarily, until they’ve seeped in the crevices of my brain, branding themselves with a burn so deep, I feel them sear into my veins.

How did I miss the signs?

I swim faster, overexerting myself. My body begs for me to stop but I keep going. I ignore my lungs and how they pump excessively to keep up.

I’m not happy, Josefine.

Why didn’t I ask more questions? Why didn’t I pick up on the signs? Why couldn’t I see them? He saved me, but who was saving him?

We both want to die.

My body gives out, sucking air it’s desperately seeking despite me still being in the water.

In the process I swallow a lot of it, so much, my throat and nose burns as I cough it back up.

I lift myself up and climb out. I crawl on my hands and knees away from the pool, sputtering the water out but as I do, my shaky arms give out and I collapse.

“Fuck,” I groan, smothering every pent-up emotion wanting to burst.

I missed the signs because I’m an unfeeling piece of shit.

I deserve to be alone.

April 15th

My phone buzzes on my nightstand. It’s probably Vienna; I haven’t answered her messages. I don’t know what she wants or what she knows, but I know I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t want to take out what I feel on her.

I’ll get angry if she tries to get me to talk, and I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to do anything. I can’t get out of bed, and I hate it because it’s not my room; it’s one of the spares. I couldn’t sleep in my bedroom because some of his things are in there.

I feel everything in me slowly detaching and losing control. I don’t want to, but I just don’t know how to make it stop.

Make yourself feel , I told Daniel, but it was a bunch of bullshit because I did and now, I’m alone. I let myself be happy, but he wasn’t. He was faking it, and I didn’t see it.

I close my eyes, but I catch something as I do. Something yellow.

It’s a Post-it he randomly placed, one I was hoping I’d never find.

I want to pretend it’s not there, but my body is moving robotically in a way that’s not mine, going towards it. When I grab it, the tiny string that was keeping me tethered to sanity snaps.

I’m so happy you’re here, Josefine!

With love, Garcia

Tears are running down my face before I can stop them.

I don’t know when they had the chance to build in my ducts, but they’re furiously pouring down.

I crumble the paper, drop it on the ground, and stalk to the kitchen.

I grab the vase with the flowers still in them and throw them across the living room.

The glass shatters against the wall, the water spills everywhere, and the dry wilted petals and leaves unhurriedly fly everywhere.

Absently, I grab something else, slinging it across the wall, not caring if it breaks or where it lands. But it’s not enough. I’m still vehemently raging, and there’s not enough of anything in the living room to destroy.

I head to the only place I’ve never touched, her goddamn office. The one place that I always steered away from. I push the door open, grabbing her medals, trophies, picture frames, papers—anything that meant everything to her—and throw it against the wall as hard as I can.

It all rips, breaks, or falls to the ground. When I’m done, when I’m slumped against the wall staring at it all, I realize how empty I am because this changes nothing.

She’s not coming back. He’s not coming back.

Feeling did nothing but make me realize how alone I am.

I exhale harshly, raising my knees to my chest but stop when I see a streak of red running down my forearm. I somehow cut the side of my hand and didn’t feel it. It bleeds a lot, not enough I could die, but it’s bad enough it drips on the floor and my clothes.

I let it be and slump down on the floor in a fetal position. I’m too tired to care and move.

I really wanted to make him happy , is the last thought I have before I close my eyes and fall asleep.

“Josie!”

I peel my eyes open, but close them when I see the mess in front of me. I can’t deal with this right now.

“Josie!”

My brows furrow at the distant voice. It’s feminine and familiar.

“Call 9-1-1!”

“No, don’t do that.” The words are barely audible, but I think they heard me.

“You’re bleeding and your house?—”

Vienna’s frantic, shrill voice has me sitting up. “Wait, what are you doing here?” But it’s Angel standing next to her, his phone in his hand, that has my eyes almost popping out of the sockets. “Why are you guys in my house?”

“I don’t know what he’s doing here, but you weren’t answering your phone! What the hell, Josie? You had me sick and worried and then I find you like this? Who did this? I’ll call the police and?—”

She was worried? “No, don’t. I’m okay. I did this, but I’m okay. It’s really not that bad. Wait, how did you guys get in?”

“I broke a window. It was the only way I could get inside,” Angel answers.

“You broke my window?” I feel so disoriented and anxious. “What are you doing here?” Is Daniel here? I want to ask, but I don’t. Still, he must hear the question in my head.

“It’s just me. I, uh, I came to check up on you.”

“Why?” Vienna and I simultaneously ask.

He side-eyes Vi and then looks down at me. “I know about Christmas Eve. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Isn’t that something Danny should be doing?” She stares at him quizzically and skeptically.

“We broke up,” I mumble. Saying it out loud makes everything shatter inside me again.

She gasps, staring at me with disbelief. “What? How? I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard that correctly. You guys broke up, but Josie, he looks at you like?—”

I shake my head, rubbing my eyes as they sting. “I really don’t want to talk about it. I’m sorry I worried you, and I still don’t understand what you’re doing here, but I’m fine. I just…” I’m embarrassed now. They weren’t supposed to see me like this. “Had a moment.”

“He says he’s fine too, but he’s not. So don’t lie.”

“What happened on Christmas Eve?” She’s not being pushy, but she looks and sounds concerned.

I lower my gaze, hiding my face behind my hands. I’d lie but maybe she’ll leave me alone if she hears how fucked up I am. “I was going to kill myself, but Daniel stopped me. Is that what he told you?”

“He went back every day after that until I followed him on New Year’s Eve,” he confesses.

“Josie.” Vienna sits on the ground in front of me, her face distraught. “I—” She clears her throat and blinks repeatedly as if she were trying to stop herself from crying. She sits up and hugs me.

That takes me by surprise. I don’t know what to do, so I do nothing but sit here.

“I’m fine,” I whisper but my voice breaks. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t say that. You’re not fine. You don’t have to pretend. We’re here for you.”

I feel so awkward and don’t mean to but accidentally make eye contact with Angel and see him nod. He doesn’t know me like that, so why does he even care?

“You guys don’t have to be here.” I’m pleading more than telling them. I told Daniel the same thing and he stayed and now he’s not here. I can’t afford to let myself care for anyone else.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here and I’ll be here as long as you need.”

I’m crying again. I didn’t want to, but the tears just keep coming down, and Angel is looking at me.

“I’m here too,” he says but then he walks out.

“You’re not alone. As long as I’m breathing, I’m going to have your back, Josie. You’re stuck with me for as long as we’re alive.”

“Stop, don’t say that.” I’m full-on sobbing now into her shoulder, but she holds me. To make matters worse, Angel comes back with wet and dry paper towels.

“I’m just going to clean this up.” He kneels down, grabs my hand, and wipes the blood off.

What’s going on?

Vienna sits next to me, hooking her arm around my shoulder as he cleans my wound. “You’re going to be okay. We got you, okay?”

I manage to stop crying, only hiccuping every so often. It’s the only noise that drowns out the silence.

When he’s done, he walks back out again.

“You’re not alone,” she softly says and looks at me, a watery smile on her face.

“But—”

“No buts. There’s no backing out of this friendship. We’re going to figure things out, and you’re going to let me. Okay?”

That freaks me out, but I nod anyway.

“Where do you keep your cleaning supplies?” Angel asks.