"Mommy, when is Candy going to come home?" Michelle Fisher asked her mother as she tugged on her leg.

"I don't know, sweetie. I'm sure she's just still at Tasha's," her mother replied, picking up her youngest daughter, "You know how inseparable those two are."

The phone rang. Mrs. Fisher went over to it and checked her caller id. It was the Zephyr Kline Tributary Hospital. This couldn't be good. She picked up.

"Hello, Fisher residence."

"Hi, this is Nurse Zoey Kline. We believe we have your daughter here."

"Is she all right? Was there an accident?!" Mrs. Fisher was surprised.

"Well, that's the problem. We need you over here as soon as possible."

"I'll need to bring my children along with me—"

"Er, that won't be necessary, ma'am. We'll arrange for a babysitter."

"What's wrong with Candy?"

"We don't know, ma'am."

Mrs. Fisher said goodbye and hung up the phone, in a daze. She just managed to get in her new SUV and go the couple of miles it took to get to the hospital. Why hadn't anyone told her sooner? she wondered.

When she pulled up, Mrs. Fisher was surprised to be met by two doctors. She recognized one as Dr. Zephyr Kline, the founder of the clinic, but the other she couldn't place.

They immediately began to escort her inside. For some reason, they felt the need to comfort her. Mrs. Fisher was a little indignant. She didn't need mush; she just wanted to see her daughter.

The two doctors walked her into a small room. There was a bed in it, with a sheet over it. There was a figure under the sheet.

Mrs. Fisher screamed as they pulled off the sheet covering the head of the corpse. She recognized it as her daughter, Candy Fisher, who had left home only hours before.

"No! NOOOOOOOOOOO!! Candy! Oh, god. Oh, dear god. No, oh Candy. Candy May…"

Mrs. Fisher fainted. For a second all she saw was darkness, but soon bright hospital lights greeted her. It had all been a bad dream…

"Ma'am, I'm so sorry. We found out what was wrong with her just very recently. She had already passed on. Are you okay? We know this is a shock—"
"A shock?" Mrs. Fisher interrupted. "Just a shock? You're all crappy doctors; couldn't even save my daughter…you even found out what was wrong…Why the hell didn't you save her?" Mrs. Fisher broke out in tears.

"She had something called Xyphotremia. Disease X. It's incurable," answered the nurse.

"Like cancer?" Mrs. Fisher asked weakly.

"No, not like cancer. This disease is immune to all anti-viral medications—every one that ever existed practically. It eats away at all the vital organs, but I don't think you want to hear all of the gory bits…"

Mrs. Fisher sighed, her eyes red and puffy. Tears still flowed freely out of them, but at least it wasn't open crying.

"If you think that Disease X sounds too harsh, you can also call it Inverse Tissue Syndrome. That sounds just a little better, now doesn't it?"

"I suppose so. Where are Michelle and Robert?"

"We have them with a babysitter. They don't know yet. You can tell them when you're ready."

"Thank you…" Mrs. Fisher collapsed from sudden weakness. The nurse caught her and sat her on a bed.

"I'm sorry…It's just so…"

"It's okay."

"What's your name, anyway."

"I'm Alli Peters, Mrs. Fisher."

"Call me Anne, my god…"