“And suddenly, with a jolt of horror, he realised that he couldn't live without it anymore. It was as much a part of him as anything now. He couldn't run from it any more than anyone could run out of their own skin. It would just keep coming back, over and over, curling up out of him, growling like hunger.
He would crave the burn until he was dead.
August curled up against the wall and put his head in his arms.
He gripped the lighter so tightly that his knuckles went white.”