“Come on, peach.” Shane pulled a reluctant Carmen out of the lift. Carmen whimpered as she let Shane drag her along.

“Do I have to” Carmen was very tired, and Shane decided it was time that Carmen returned to the ward.

But Carmen didn’t want the time in the garden with Shane to end. Returning to her room meant that it was time for her next dosage of chemotherapy. She made as many excuses as she could to keep Shane with her in the garden, but Shane firmly rejected all of her reasons for staying and Carmen had no choice but to follow.

She was developing a phobia for it, having gone through the routine for nearing two weeks now. She would start getting nauseous and faint, she wouldn’t be able to smell or taste properly for the next few hours, which she most probably was going to spent slumped on the bed.

Then there were the mood swings that came along with the package. Most days she would be just too tired. But on one particular day, she felt so much anger in her that she leashed out on Shane, throwing punches at her and then actually slapping her across the face.

It had been a week now, and Shane had forgiven her completely, assuring her that it was all right. But Carmen was disgusted with herself, so pissed off for hurting the one she loved that she never wanted to go near the pills again.

Each time it was time for her treatment, she experienced anxiety and panic, unsure of how her body would react. She couldn’t take it any longer, and as the days passed, it was getting more and more difficult for her to swallow the pills.

Now, against her better judgment, she was acting like a spoiled child. Refusing to return to the ward, throwing a tantrum that anyone with less patience would have murdered her. She couldn’t help herself, she knew she should be brave and accept the treatment if she wanted to get better. But there were so much anxiety in her that was turning into anger. And she was so close to leashing out on Shane again.