Like an infection, it can't be extinguished easily. It worms its way into her heart, and binds itself to the black surface like tar on asphalt. It hurts. It hurts so damned much, but it refuses to give up. She isn't strong enough to fight it.
There was a time when she was clueless to just how full of this disease she was. People still try to tell her that this is a good thing, normal, healthy... but she can't understand them. To her, this is as healthy as stabbing yourself with a rusty nail. To her, this is foolishness and foolhardiness. But no one understands.
The worst part, she thinks to herself, is that she'd been tricked into letting it in, willingly giving it quarter. But never again. She is finished with this cancer.
Still, a part remains. In her mind, she sees it like a sickening worm crawling through an apple, causing irreparable damage and disgust wherever it goes. It is insidious, and makes her desire to rip parts of her off so that she can clean them one by one. Maybe, she thinks, if she could just take herself apart, she could rebuild herself better, stronger, immune.
It isn't until he leaves forever that she gets her most ardent wish. She feels something shatter inside her, and then go numb. Then... peace. Freedom. The experience is what she always thought it would be; calm, sure, and softly assuring. There is nothing she can do to change this. This is who she is. This is who she has always been.
She feels no slither inside that betrays her. It's almost lonely without the usual turmoil, and her thoughts seem loud. But it is blissfully quiet otherwise, and she examines this newness curiously. In the end, she even spares a thought of gratitude for him. He has given her a gift that she has sought for years.
The complete and utter absence of hope.