Written using 
...
"Let go," she said.
It was so matter of fact, spoken in that soft manner of hers that is just so fucking irritating.
"I'm not going to let go!" I shouted, clinging on to the rope so hard my knuckles felt like they would burst through the skin. "I'll die if I let go."
"It won't kill you," she said, smiling. "It isn't that far."
I looked down and a wave of nausea took hold of me. I vomited a little in my mouth and swallowed.
"It's easy for you to say!" I shouted. "You aren't the one dangling from a rope from a second floor window!"
"It's the first floor," she said. "And there is a nice big flowerbed below you, that will break your fall."
"I'll break my legs, more like!" I shouted. But my grip was weakening on the rope and it was beginning to slip through my fingers, causing the palms of my hands to burn.
I closed my eyes, said a prayer to a god I no longer believed in.
And let go.
...