4th July 2026
"If you fake bravery when you're terrified, that is bravery!" Something I heard online. Oddly enough, I've been remembering a lot of things lately—not just recalling them, but understanding them in ways I never did before. Maybe it's the sheer intensity of the moments I'm living through. The sayings that once felt like short bursts of motivation now carry a weight that resonates deep within me. Did the people who came up with those words live through moments like these? It's hard to say.
Was I brave to step outside the window of a skyscraper, or was I just desperate and out of options? Hanging 32 floors above the ground, clinging to a narrow window frame with nothing but a slim foothold, my mind shouldn't have room for such thoughts. Yet here I am, debating whether this is courage or madness.
"Definitely a bad idea," I muttered to myself as a strong gust of wind nearly pushed me off balance. The frame beneath my feet was barely wide enough for three fingers, and my shoe was caught on something—a blessing in disguise, as it kept me stable. I didn't dare look down or investigate further.
The scaffolding I was eyeing swung wildly in the wind, the distance between it and me fluctuating. At its closest, it was around two feet away—a doable jump in normal circumstances, but nothing about this was normal. The swaying platform was a death trap, but it was my only shot.
I crouched, readying myself for the leap. Timing was everything. The scaffolding took about four seconds to swing towards me at its nearest point. I started counting.
"One... two... three..."
"Fo—!" My body betrayed me, moving before the count was done. My footing slipped, one leg dangling in midair. Heart racing, I pulled myself back onto the narrow ledge, clutching the frame for dear life. The wind howled, mocking my hesitation.
The scaffolding swung back towards me, closer this time. My eyes caught the rhythm, calculating the perfect moment. The winds surged again, nearly blinding me, but in that split second, the scaffolding came close enough. My body acted on instinct, launching itself forward.
"Bam!" I hit the metal bars hard, my chest slamming into the edge. Arms flailing, I grabbed onto the bars, my chin hooking over the side as I scrambled to pull myself onto the platform. For a moment, I lay there, gasping, as the platform swayed beneath me.
The wind didn't let up, and soon the scaffolding swung back towards the building, hitting the glass with a loud crack. The noise echoed ominously. I barely had time to react before I saw them—infected figures inside the office, drawn to the sound. One sprinted toward the window, slamming into it with full force. The glass cracked further, webbing like lightning across the surface.
Another infected appeared, then another, all hurling themselves at the window. The second impact deepened the cracks, and the third broke through entirely. The scaffolding jolted as the glass shattered, and the winds pushed two of them off the edge. One was crushed between the platform and the building, but the last one landed on the platform with me.
I scrambled backward, my hands flailing for anything to protect myself. They landed on a bundle of ropes lying on the platform. In sheer desperation, I grabbed the ropes and threw them at the infected. The cords tangled around it like a net, momentarily slowing its advance but not stopping it. The creature kept coming, its lifeless eyes fixed on me, its guttural growls cutting through the howling wind.
It lunged, and I barely managed to shield myself with my laptop bag, using it as a makeshift barrier to keep its snapping jaws at bay. My arms strained as it clawed at me, inches away from tearing into my face. In a frantic move, I pushed the infected to the side, sending it stumbling near the platform's edge.
Seizing the opportunity, I scrambled to my feet. That's when I saw it—a metallic hook lying on the platform. My mind raced. If I could use it somehow... I bent down and tried to lift the hook, but it was far too heavy. Before I could think of another plan, the scaffolding swayed violently, slamming against the building with a deafening metallic groan.
The impact sent the hook sliding across the platform, dragging the ropes along with it. I froze as I realized what was happening. The infected, tangled in the ropes, staggered toward me, its growls growing louder. Then, with terrifying suddenness, the hook slipped off the edge, pulling the ropes taut.
The tension yanked the infected backward just as it lunged for me, its neck snapping toward the edge. For a moment, it teetered, its arms flailing in a futile attempt to regain balance. Then, it flipped over the side, disappearing into the abyss below.
I stood there, gasping for air, my hands trembling as I clutched the platform's railing. The wind continued to howl, but for the first time in what felt like hours, I allowed myself a moment of relief.
Clinging to the bars, I waited for the swaying to subside. Minutes felt like hours, but eventually, the winds steadied. My destination was within reach: the cafeteria entrance. It was closer now, but the final jump would require climbing onto the scaffolding's railing—a precarious move even without the wind.
I took a deep breath. "You didn't survive this far just to fall now," I told myself. Gathering every ounce of courage, I climbed onto the railing. The wind howled, threatening to topple me, but I leapt anyway.
I landed hard, face-first, on the cafeteria floor. Pain shot through me, but it was drowned out by the wave of relief. I was alive.
"Yes! Yes! I made it!" I punched the air, laughing through the adrenaline. For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself a moment of joy. I was here. I was alive. And I wasn't giving up yet.