Yes, we've met.

Yes, we've met. I wish I could say otherwise, but I'm familiar. Too familiar. The taste of you sickens me as I remember every detail. Ominous darkness is what you bring. You permeate every element of life - from when you emerge as a possibility to when you are known. You consume every waking moment, and IF sleep can be found, you weave elaborate nightmares of the possibilities that await.

Yes we've met. You are subtle when approaching. Sneaky, cowardly, like all evil is. You have stealth and the element of surprise on your side. But once your presence is known, you're smug. You took her over, and I swear you were laughing while you did it.

Yes, we've met. You are indiscriminate - race, age, gender, creed - matter not to you. Parasites don't query their hosts - any will do, the only requirement is to sustain YOU, though the end result is your demise too. Not that it matters, always another around the corner. Fresh meat.

Yes, we've met. I saw you take up residence. I saw you meticulously wear her body down. I saw you tease her with small victories, then push her back down. I saw her fight you - God she's was amazing - her gracious, generous, faithful spirit. Now THAT you couldn't touch you bastard. I've known very little hate in my life, but I think it's the right word for what I feel for you this moment.

Yes, we've met. I watched as pain took over, I heard in her voice how unbearable you made it, but she'd never say. I saw in her eyes how she worried about US - whole conversations conveyed from her eyes to mine, her heart to mine - she knew I knew all the things she couldn't say - your power couldn't control that.

Yes, we've met. You were relentless. I watched her let go. I told her to. I said "no more pain, you don't need to hurt anymore" - I know she heard me. I sang the Irish lullaby she sang to me as a child, comfort to all of us. And when the last gasp came, I felt her energy, I did.

Yes, we've met. Asshole. And now you come again? Not enough you took my Mother, you need to invade her too? Fucker. Your medical storm is descending... the tornado of testing, waiting, the 'procedures', the waiting, the hoping, the deciding, the coping.

Yes. Cancer, we've met.

Fuck you.

Fuck you.

Fuck you.