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It was the thrill that I lived for. The wind rushing past my face as it

danced in my curly hair. Nothing but the sound of my thumping

heart. 2,000 feet up in the air. Views as clear as an untouched pond.

James always said that it was a risky business; that every time I jumped

out of a plane it could be my last time. I never listened to him, only

focused on the ground below and the empty space between me and

the earth. I was always looking for something to jump off, climb up,

swim across or devour. In the small town of Morven I was known as

the daredevil, the one who was bold, brave and literally bulletproof

(my attempt at climbing the police wall back in ’07 resulted in me

being fired at and as a consequence, scars now mark my skin).

Nothing so outrageous or risky was too much for me, I was up for


I have had my fair share of accidents though. A snake bite left me

paralysed for a few hours. Food poisoning from a curry sent me to

hospital for a week. My most lethal stunt was swimming from Spain

to Morocco. I swam into a bloom of jellyfish. All I remember was

sinking into the Alboran Sea. Darkness overcame me as the sun

above was fading and I could no longer see my oxygen bubbles.

James saved my life by pulling me out of the water. After that, I was

forced to break from my extravagant antics, for James’ sake.

Now I was travelling eight and a half hours to London where my

next stunt stood – 300 metres of pure glass and shining beauty.

Nobody was going to hold me back. There was a lack of adrenaline

in my blood and I needed the feeling of thrill back in my veins.

I walked another three steps, just somy head could lean over the edge

of the building. The view of London was majestic at this time of

night. London Eye was turning at a leisurely pace, making everything

seem like a slow motion movie. I could hear the shouts of the crowd

gathered behindme yelling to climb back over the safety barrier. This

was my most dangerous jump and as much as I wanted to get back to

safety, my stiffened and cold legs restricted me. The weight of my

parachute strapped tight on my back seemed to get heavier and

heavier as the seconds, which felt like hours, passed. I took my hand

off the railing, shuffling even closer towards the edge. I took one last

glance back at James, he mouthed ‘see you at the bottom’, before

turning around. He could never watch me jump; too scared for my

life. The sun was slowly disappearing behind the horizon, making the


Louise Monsell-Butler