by Cat Mann
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I wonder what dying will be like, I thought to myself as I teetered delicately on the creaky stool in No. 6’s basement. My bladder was full and the pressure and urge to urinate was immense. The longer I stood the heavier the rope around my neck became. I tried to hold as still as I could but the urge to pee was too great and I kept wiggling. Each time I moved, the rough, natural fiber rope scratched into my skin. In time, a rash formed and then little drips of blood began to run down my body. The blood tickled me and made me itchy. I wiggled some more in an attempt to ease the pressure in my bladder. I heard No. 6 laugh aloud upstairs. The noise startled me and urine began to run down my legs. I squeezed my thighs together but it was too late.