Page 3 of The Hotshot's Prize

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Then the silence hits me, and I blink up at the empty sky.

I’m still here.

Still breathing.

“Okay,” I whisper shakily. “Okay. Okay. Okay.”

My voice echoes against the canyon walls.

Slowly, I sit up. The ledge is maybe three feet wide. The drop below it is…a lot more than that. My bag’s still up top. My phone, water, everything. I look up, and my stomach drops. The slope above me is nearly vertical, the rocks loose and crumbling.

There’s no way I’m climbing that.

No way out.

As the realization of my situation dawns on me, my chest clams up with a familiar anxiety. My hands start to shake, my breathcoming fast and shallow. I try to slow it down, but I can’t. It’s like all the air has been sucked out of the world and replaced with a strangling darkness. My vision starts to blur, and I can’t stop my hands from trembling.

“Stop,” I whisper. “Not now. Please.”

I can’t afford a panic attack right now.

I wrap my arms around my knees and try to press them tight, try to make myself smaller, safer, less exposed. But the fear is rising anyway, clawing up my throat like a scream I can’t swallow.

“Help!” I cry out, but my voice is hoarse. It comes out thin. Pathetic. Swallowed up by the canyon’s endless silence.

I try again, louder this time.

“Help! Somebody! I’m down here!”

Nothing.

I twist my neck, desperate to catch a glimpse of my backpack. It’s still there, above me, like a cruel little dot against the ledge. My phone is in the side pocket. Tessa’s probably still waiting for my text. She’ll worry eventually. But how long will that take?

Minutes?

Hours?

Tears sting my eyes.

No one knows exactly where I am. I didn’t tell Tessa what direction I was heading. Didn’t check in with the ranger station. I was so caught up in the owls, in the moment, in proving myself.

Stupid.

I’m so stupid.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the panic to stop clawing at my throat.

You’re okay. You’re okay. You’ve handled worse.

But the truth is…I haven’t.

I’ve never been this alone. This terrified.

Is this how my life ends? I haven’t even lived.

Tears finally spill over, hot and silent. I drop my head to my knees, squeezing my arms tighter around myself.

“Please…” I mutter under my breath. “Let someone find me. Please.”

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