The constant fear was finally consuming her! It was always there, lurking in the shadows, daring her to look in the mirror and deny its existence. Raising its ugly head in her reflection, it appeared tired, pale, and scarily unfamiliar. 

A chill ran down her spine as she acknowledged the noose at the end of her tether waving hypnotically in the breeze.

She had tried to ignore it but the wind whispered tauntingly and continuously through the fibres of the rope. She made herself look away and block her ears but its stark, evil image imprinted itself in her mind's eye; a firm reminder that her options were running out.

Her eyes darkened as panic gripped her chest and spread its burning fingers over her throat. With her breath coming in gasps, nerve ends vibrating and every pore crackling in that pocket of hell, she curled into a ball.

Her mind, seeking even the tiniest speck of light, found nothing to quell the raging storm inside her. Sounds distorted and cold crept into every bone. Darkness stretched to infinity above her and walls closed in until she could no longer move. She opened her mouth to cry out but there was no voice. She tried again, harder, but still nothing came.

Giving in to her fate, she silently sobbed. Nothing could save her from the vice-like grip. Her chest and throat ached so that she could barely swallow, and her mind recoiled in terror.  Until finally, accepting the futility of fighting, she closed her eyes and waited for the end.

The pressure of the walls slowly declines and a faint trace of air reaches her lungs. The iron fist clutching her chest loosens its grasp, leaving her bruised and battered, and she greedily gulps at the air, reaching for something solid, something tangible to steady her nerve.

Tentatively, she looks in the mirror. The fear is still there, laughing at her expense. It will be waiting.

Coming out of this, I remembered something I read somewhere. I don't remember exactly what or where I read it,  but it inspired me to write it all down.