It wasn’t safe.
My heart hammered in my chest. I was going to die. I knew it. I could feel it. I wasn’t brave like the others.
The heat rose under my armpits. I wanted to go home. I wanted to go home and hug my mum. I wanted her to tell me everything would be okay; that I’d be fine.
But it wasn’t, it wasn’t fine.
I felt sick. I couldn’t breathe. Tears ran freely down my cheeks and my eyes stung.
Why was this happening?
This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t what we were sold. We were told that this would be the best experience of our lives and so far, I had done nothing but fret and worry.
I clung on tighter to the beam.
Don’t look down. Don’t look down. I repeated to myself over and over.
My feet were wobbly. My bladder was threatening to release.
I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t made for this.
Mouths moved urging me on, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying.
I was going to die I knew it.
I closed eyes, held my breath and swung my leg.
My foot touched solid ground.
I had done it. I had made it to the other side, safe and sound. The others bound up to me and enveloped me into a round of hugs. Squeezing me and telling me I had done so well.
I let out a sigh of relief and wiped the tears away as I celebrated with the rest of my team.