Hold On You - M. S. Brannon Page 0,3

Energy is surging in my body. I curse the wind because it is still blowing hard enough to disguise her face with all that long, chestnut hair.

She walks to the front of the car, giving me a great view of her entire body. I was right when thinking she had a great body. She is curvy and sexy. She pops her hip out when she stands, her right foot pointed inward. Her stance is oddly familiar, that of a woman I was once quite familiar with, but haven’t seen in a decade.

I am taken back for a moment, recognizing what this sexy, drunk woman is stirring inside me, the memories she is unearthing from my deepest, darkest vault.

“These goddamn shoes!” She leans down and yanks the black, four-inch pumps from her feet and chucks them in my direction.

I cover my head as the leather shoe comes flying at my skull and land with a thud. The shoe stings as it connects with the back of my head. Soon, the other shoe comes flying toward me. This one lands right in front of me, and I pick it up. I look inside at the sole and note it isn’t a cheap shoe. Although I am a guy, I am well aware Manolo Blahnik anything costs more than what my beat up truck is worth on its best day. Rich women wear that shit all the time, even when they are vacationing at the bed and breakfast my family used to own.

“Is this what will make you happy, Daniel?” She chugs the last of her bottle and throws it over the edge as she approaches the unstable cliff. “You want me gone? Then FINE, I’m gone.”

The woman is teetering on the edge, and it doesn’t escape me that she is in this very spot to do what I was about to do ten minutes ago.

“I will be gone forever!”

She starts to unbutton her shirt, ripping and yanking at the buttons her drunken fingers cannot undo. Her legs are incredibly unstable. With one wrong move, she will be a goner.

Now I am faced with a decision. Should I reveal myself and talk her out of what she is about to do? Or should I let her seal her own fate? Could I live with myself knowing I allowed this woman to take her own life when I was capable of helping her? Would I want someone to do the same for me?

I shake my head in disgust for letting this continue for another minute. This woman is intoxicated; therefore, chances are, she has the desire to live, like I did, but she is allowing the booze to cloud her judgment.

Fuck that! I won’t let her die, not tonight.

She is still standing on the very edge of the cliff, getting a better look at the ocean below. I fear she could be blown off if the breeze gets any stronger.

My gut is telling me I need to help this woman, but the reason to do so is unknown. Perhaps it is because I have sympathy for her and her need to end it all. Or maybe I know her from a past life. Or maybe I am just having that kind of moment, because normally I wouldn’t give a shit what the hell she did. Whatever it is, I can’t ignore the feeling to rescue her.

Slowly, I make my way to my feet and come out of hiding. She will hear me if the music isn’t sounding loudly around us. She doesn’t see me, though.

She is standing in her white, lace bra and black skirt. Her dark brown hair is blowing everywhere, continuing to make it hard to see her face. I can hear her faint sobs as the music lulls. Her mouth is covered by her hands, muffling any noise. I am not sure how to make it known that I am up here. I don’t want to startle her and cause her to fall, but I need to get her away from the edge.

I walk to the back of her car, keeping the distance yet getting a little closer to save her life. While the stereo continues blaring “Bohemian Rhapsody,” an idea comes to me. I will get her attention by turning down the music. Maybe that will prompt her to walk from the edge and back to her car.

I slowly creep around to the open driver’s door and lean in, turning the sound down. As I ease my way out of