Inspired by user mvalim’s manipulations on DeviantArt:
https://www.deviantart.com/mvalim
She told herself that she would not struggle. She would not give them the pleasure of watching her kick and thrash in her final moments. They had caught her. That should be victory enough.
For the first few heartbeats after the smirking man pulled the stool out from under her, she succeeded. To be fair, it was more shock than anything that kept her from struggling. Her brain could not process the sudden input: the loss of solid ground, the vice grip around her throat, the unsettling feeling of her head supporting her entire weight. For just a few seconds, she hung still, staring forward, the perfect image of revolutionary resolve.
Then, as her brain started to translate the flood of new sensations, it tried to take a breath. No air came, and that’s when the thrashing and the kicking started.
One instinct, a base, primal impulse took over her mind.
Breathe! Air! I don’t want to die! Find air!
She wanted to claw at the rope squeezing her neck, but her hands were tied behind her back. She kicked and twisted and squirmed. The pressure behind her ear became a pounding agony. Her limbs tingled and blackness ate into her vision.
Breathe! Live! Air!
Her body, in its instinct to live, brought her knees to her chest and kicked down hard. The movement did nothing but spin her around on her rope and use up the last of her strength. She couldn’t see anything anymore, just darkness. As she gurgled and pissed, the last rational corner of the girl’s consciousness was horrified.
Don’t die like this!
She died just like everyone else brought to those gallows, kicking and struggling. Also like everyone one else, within minutes there was no sign of her struggle to live save for the small puddle on the ground underneath her corpse. Her body hung placidly, swaying gently, a look of deceptive peace on her face.