In the dead of night, I woke up parched, the craving surging back again. The interval between withdrawal attacks was shrinking fast. Leon lay beside me, asleep.
I couldn't hold out anymore. If I didn't take the suppressant soon, the fifth-stage withdrawal would kill me. My temperature would shoot past 104°F, and my organs would start failing one after another.
Barefoot, I moved through the dark into the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face and caught sight of Mia's counterfeit perfume on the sink. I hadn't forgotten. I picked up the bottle and went to the door, cracking it open.
Footsteps drew nearer. A figure stopped outside the apartment door. It wasn't Mia, it was Lisa Lynn. A junior assistant from Marketing. The only person who had ever brought me coffee when I first started.
