She pushed the needle into his vein and pressed the plunger, but only a fraction of the way. She wanted to watch him succumb, wanted to extract the maximum satisfaction from this.

He blinked, shaking away the fog the punch had left in his brain, and looked down at his arm. His eyes widened in alarm. He knew what this meant.

She pushed the plunger a little deeper. His pupils enlarged as the drug ran through his body, coursing along all the pathways it had carved over the years and lighting them up.

She could see the bliss spread over him. She could feel her own body respond as her craving for the drug she needed was satisfied.

She groaned, then laughed and took her hand off the syringe. It toppled sideways and he grabbed it to stop it falling from his arm.

She put a second syringe on the table. Either he’d inject it himself after the first one, unable to resist, or she’d wait for him to pass out and inject it herself.

What a night this was turning out to be. It was thrilling beyond anything she could have imagined.

Roland

Oh God. Oh God, not this. This was the one thing he could not resist.

He could feel it in his body. It was wonderful, better than anything. And he wanted more.

Then she took away her hand and he grabbed the syringe. It was so familiar, so comforting, blissful. Just a little more, and all this would go away. Not that he cared any more, not now, not with the drug, his best friend, his one and only true friend, running riot in his body and taking away all his worries.

She stared at him, her eyes boring into his soul.

‘Go on,’ she said. ‘It’s yours. All yours. You know what to do.’

The smile was back, but this time it was not forced. It was real. It was her true self.

And it was demonic. She was inhuman, a force of pure evil without any shred of compassion or love or human feeling at all.

He was terrified. He knew he was going to die at her hands, be consumed by her hellish fire.

And that made him want – need, crave – the release of the drug even more. What was death when you felt this good?

His thumb went over the plunger. This was it. This was the end.

Then he heard a sound. It was like a baby crying.

It was a baby crying.

It was Jo. His niece.

And he understood. It wasn’t only him who would die at her hands. It was Jo and Tom and countless others.

The cry came again, louder this time.

‘No,’ he said. ‘No.’

He pulled the syringe from his arm and threw it as far away as he could.

‘Where’s Tom?’ he said. ‘Where’s my brother?’

Alice

Well, fuck that.