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And Ash. Isn't that amazing? Ash and Ashland. I hate them both. I hate them both. I was just about to fall asleep last night. The day had gone along well, I was feeling a bit nauseous, my stitches hurted a bit, but other than that, things were fine. I got under the blanket, snuggled that red sweater I've become so associated with, and turned off the TV. It was 2 a.m. and everything was still. My eyelids felt heavier by the second. I'd just let them close and not a heartbeat later, a familiar voice echoed through my head, revebrating through my recently-opened skull:

"Gotcha."

Filthy b*****d. Now I know why the headaches didn't go away. He isn't a result of the tumor at all. Ashland Rowe is something completely different; he's been there for years. The tumor was incidental. Rowe isn't going anywhere. That's what he's telling me. I went to Dr. Rosario today and she said that it's very likely that the headaches I've been having are being caused by my subconscious efforts to keep Rowe away.

I thought he was gone. I thought this was over with. I'd hoped against hope that this was done... But he isn't gone. Ashland Rowe isn't gone. He's still here. Still waiting. Why and for what, I don't know... But I'm going to find out.

Here he is. This is how I view him. A bleeding cancer disguised as my guardian angel. Ashland Rowe.