Dark Places || ONC 2023

On The Small Ledge

Janelle rips at wings and kicks until her rope snaps tight. She slams into stone, her head cracking against rock and then she swings away, disoriented and out of breath.

She's alone. Then it's nothing but pain for a long time. 

Her ribs ache where the rope holds her aloft. The only good thing that comes from her fall is whatever was after her lost track of her in the tumble. She hears scratching and screeching, but it's distant and disorganized. With no light, maybe this time they won't be able to find one another.

Things black around the edges as Janelle swings once more against the wall. 

 "Janelle!"

Janelle's one thought is hold tight, hold tight, hold tight. The rope around her chest isn't tied, just wrapped enough that if she hold the rope then she'll stay attached. She has to stay conscious to hold tight.

"Janelle!"

God her lungs hurt, her everything hurts. She just needs a minute, a minute to catch her breath maybe, lie down?

Can't lie down. Janelle's world turns upside down, then right side up again in a dizzying swirl. She jerks awake with her whole body screaming. She inhales around glass in her throat.

"Are you okay?"

No

"Yeah," Janelle croaks. She can't get enough air to yell. Her arms and head feel numb and swollen from lack of blood and oxygen. She needs to get to the wall and hold her own weight. This rope is doing her no favors.

She grits her teeth and gets to work. With some maneuvering she gets her left hand free and grips the rope just above her head. With stiff fingers she lifts herself just enough to loosen the ropes death grip around her chest. She instantly feels warm blood rush back to her head and arms, then down to her tingling toes. She doesn't have particularly strong arm muscles, but she holds herself up just long enough to loosen the knot around her chest, and adjust it so it's easier to breathe. She thinks about having enough slack to make a knot and tie herself back into her harness, but that's wishful thinking. She needs to just get herself against the wall, hold tight and  if she's lucky, find a safe place to put her feet.

"I've got you tied in," Adam calls down. "kind of, you're not gonna fall from my end. What's your situation?"

Janelle doesn't have the wherewithal to answer. She needs to get to the wall. She carefully reaches out with her right hand. She doesn't feel the wall, which means it's farther than arms width. She'll need to swing toward it and hope she catches it. Dammit. Can't anything just be easy. The hole goes on forever. Adam is dying. She's bleeding, hanging loose on the end of a rope. She feels blood dripping down her legs, and tickling the rim of her socks. Her ribs hurts, her arm doesn't feel wonderful, and her hand is still cut from what feels like a week ago in that dumpster.

She begins to swing. No other option. Hopefully it's toward the wall.

Three swings, then four, then a fifth. She can't see where she's going or where the wall might be. She swings a different direction, hopeful, then another until her shoulder crunches into the wall. She bounces off gracelessly spinning into the dark. She can't loose it. She can't spin so much that she doesn't know where the wall it. 

She swings back before she can lose her orientation. She hits the wall with more time to prepare herself. She knows where it is, and with two more swings she knows the handhold she wants. Her fingers slip and scrape as she tries to catch hold, and finally with a death grip between her fingers she holds tight. Her fingers slip and she doubles down on her efforts, her entire body fights to hold tight, and then she's still and steady, a foot finding a natural place on the wall.