Scarred by fate
My arms are going to hate me after this.
I leap as high as I can, gripping the rope tightly with both hands while hooking my feet around it for extra support. My arms and legs work together, muscles burning as I climb higher and higher. The platform above is narrow, and when I finally pull myself onto it, the first thing I notice is the height. I peer over the edge for half a second before snapping my gaze forward. Don’t look down, don’t look down, I chant silently. The ground seems ridiculously far away.
There’s another platform below this one and slightly to the right. Between the two, a massive net stretches tautly, clearly there in case I fall. Great. But there’s no ladder or rope down—j
Bab Populer