[ TT ] As a parasite , you have to leech life for yourself off of other beings , eventually killing them . But unlike other parasites , you get easily attached to your victims over the course of their lives ...

I had been with Lucy for ten fleeting months, and it was the longest relationship I had ever experienced in my life. She had sparkling grey-blue eyes and her long hair was a gleaming bronzed gold. I had been drawn to her since I had caught a single glimpse of her curls whipping by my perch on the peeling park bench. Lucy was a jogger, you see. I came back to that miniscule park every Saturday afterwards until I saw her again, a few weeks later. This time I waved shyly as she passed and she slowed slightly, giving me a cheeky grin as she continued on the path. 
 
 Next time I brought along a book, so I did n't seem like such a creep, and she slowed down just long enough to tell me that she loved the author. I stammered an idiotic reply, and off she ran, giggling at my awkwardness. It became a routine, every weekend morning. I would sit and hope, trying to be engrossed in my latest novel, and sure enough she would appear and comment on my choice of the week. 
 
 Three weeks later we were inseparable. We went to films, drank espresso in dingy cafes, and read our favourite books together after she finished her twice-weekly jog - the other being on Thursdays. She joked that now I did n't need to wait on that bench for her, although sometimes I did just to see her smile when she spotted me. 
 
 I never did see her friends and family in our time together, but that was okay because my entire life was filled with Lucy. I could n't believe how lucky I was that this bright, vibrant woman had decided to stick with me. I had n't felt this way in many, many years. Sometimes I wondered if I ever had felt this deeply about a person. 
 
 Until we learned she was sick. She began to feel unwell about six months after that fall day when we exchanged our first greeting. I urged her to see her doctor, and reluctantly she went. He ordered more tests, and blood work, eventually scheduling a specialist when those provided no answers. She never lost her light, though I could tell she was frightened. I was, too, if I'm honest. I could n't believe that such a healthy, happy woman could become so drawn and ill so quickly. 
 
 Another two months passed, slower now, as Lucy was tired frequently. She stopped jogging, unable to catch her breath after. I tried to distract her as we waited on news from the doctors. I would read to her now, cook for her, take her out for drives in the countryside. I wondered now why I was so excited for love when it looked to be so fleeting. But everytime I saw her hair gleam in the sun or that quick cheeky grin, I would remember and be grateful. Lucy gave me more than I could ever have imagined. 
 
 Ten months to the day that I first saw Lucy, she died. I rushed her to the hospital when she collapsed in my flat. The doctors had no answers, as they had n't the last twenty times we asked, shaking their heads in disbelief. They could afford no concrete explanation as to why someone in seemingly perfect health had withered away. I raged and raged, throwing them from the room they had given her. And then I just sat beside her and held her hand. I was all she had right then, as her family lived far away. They would never reach her in time. But I could comfort her. 
 
 I squeezed those chilled fingers as she finally slipped away, the monitor displaying that chilling flat line. As doctors rushed into the room I stood slowly and walked away. 
 
 There was nothing more for me to do. I had already done too much. I could carry Lucy with me for the rest of my existence, but I could n't bring her back. 
 
 I only take life, you see. An illness never gives back.
