At that moment I couldn't except the fact. Bitter interest of what lied inside me. Cancer had infected my body in just a couple of weeks. Death lying at my bed side, waiting for me to give in. Every breath I took was given to me by a machine. Fine green lines keeping the beat of my heart on a screen. “Get back!” I'd tell the nurse as there were ready to stick me with a needle. Hysteria of death no longer taunted my thought. Inside of me the drugs took away the pain and gave me freedom to go insane. Just before I came to rest I realized what a mess I'd become. Kind words from family and friends reminded me of the good times we had. Laughing out loud with all my friend again gave me a reason to live some more. My time had come to stand and fight with something I called the devils smite. No one would stop me from try harder to live just a bit longer. On the side of my bed stood a figure that was the soul bringer of the undead and painted bright red. People told me, “Sit down.”, “Take a rest”. Quietly I sat there hoping they would leave. Resting on my best side was that figure but now it was green. Sleeping in my bed I woke up to the sound of some sort of dread. Touching my feet on the cold tiled floor and sending a shiver up my spine. Until the wires ripped from out my vanes, I sat there waiting for a sound. Vital to the ringing in my ears I listened hoping to hear something. Wonderfully a faint scream ripped through the air waves; I got up and started walking out side of the building. “Xerxies Street” I read as I passed it, now running toward the screaming. “You came!?” whispered a voice, as I was breathless, I looked up and realized cancer had been screaming in vain for me. “Zip”, that was the last thing any one heard of my existence, because cancer had won.