There was a darkness inside her.
There was a darkness inside her, and it was growing.
She wasn't feeding it, did everything in her power not to, and yet, it grew, day after day.
Nobody noticed anything from the outside.
Not her friends.
Certainly not her coworkers.
Or any of the doctors she'd tried, in her desperation.
Only she knew.
Knew that it was there.
Could feel it.
Every time she moved.
Whenever she blinked.
Strangling her every thought.
Dampening all of her actions.
Gnawing.
Eroding.
Expanding.
Thriving.
Biding its time.
Her self was slipping away.
Diminishing.
Sliding into its ravenous maw.
Being stretched thinner and thinner.
Soon, she would be nothing but a shell.
A shell around a vile malignancy, threatening to burst.
She had no idea what would happen when there was nothing left of her to consume, but she was afraid.
Not for herself.
It was much, much too late for her.
There was barely anything left of her at all.
A day or two, at most.
Hours, probably.
No, she was afraid for the world.