Did I do the right thing? She finds herself asking. Should I really even be questioning whether or not it was the right thing? It was best for everyone. But was it best for everyone, or just herself? Carnifex had never really questioned herself before. Apparently disorientation was a big part of her "condition," as the doctors had put it.

She hadn't even remained long enough to hear the possible causes. She just wanted out of there. And what of her husband? What would she tell him? It'd seemed simple at the time: Just don't tell him. Scribbling her parting notes, she disappeared. Checking her e-mail later, for some reason unclear to her, she saw he'd sent her at least 10. The titles ranging from "where are you?" to "whatever I did, please forgive me!" to "whatever it is, we can talk about it." She wanted to ignore them. She really did, but she found herself opening and replying to the last one.

She sighed wearily and stared at the screen before closing the window without sending it. She wouldn't talk to Brady. She couldn't.





She walked outside, feeling the sunlight on her skin. She grinned. She couldn't help it. The warmth of the sun was one of the things that she loved most. She had an appointment at her doctor's office in a few hours. She wanted to walk. She needed time to clear her head.

She mumbled aloud to herself: "It’s not fair, but I’m not scared, I’m just not ready to die." and she knew in that moment that she really wasn't. She was 25 years old, she'd just been married 8 months ago, she hadn't brought a life into this world yet. She hadn't gone to a PTA meeting. She hadn't done anything that most people already had. She wanted to live her whole life next to Brady, she wanted to grow old. She wanted to have children and grandchildren. She wanted to learn more. But as she walked along, she came to a firm realization that that just wouldn't happen. Especially if the cancer had it's way.