“I got you. Don’t worry.”

My hands were clenched around his, veins surging thickly from under my skin with the effort. He swung off the face of the cliff, feet kicking for a foothold and finding none. I was on my belly. Beneath us spread a wide expanse of stone and desert floor. It would have been beautiful if it wasn’t hundreds of feet down.

“Can you pull me up?” He muttered through gritted teeth, breathless. He was trying not to look down. I couldn’t look anywhere else. If I looked elsewhere, I might lose my focus and …

I yanked but he did not budge. “No, I’m not strong enough. Help!” I called. “Help!” Hoping for some other climber or hiker to come by. But I knew we hadn’t seen anyone else all morning, and he knew that, too.

I felt my arm going numb. If I let go, I was safe, but he was dead. If I held on, there was no telling what the numbness in my arm might make me do. Let go without knowing? Pull me down with him?

“Please don’t let go,” he said, looking into my eyes. “Please.”

“Not an option,” I grimaced, but he must have seen the shift and struggle in my eyes because he plead again.

A few seconds passed. My head was pulsating with the strain now, my arm completely numb. I felt on the verge of blackout with the strain and …

I released my grasp.