The craving came on as it always did: suddenly and urgently, a wave of nausea and trembling, chills and sweats. She told herself that she wouldn’t give in this time, that she’d simply ride it out. Lock herself in her room and scream herself hoarse, claw at her eyes and tear at her hair and smash her furniture. She didn’t think that withdrawal could kill her, but she wasn’t certain. She’d never heard of anyone she knew dying from it, at least, but then most people didn’t try to fight it the way that she did. Maybe they had once or twice, but then they realized it was a lot simpler to just make peace with what they were and move forward in life.
There were a lot of things that could kill you, after all, but suffering was so much worse.
She’d decided to time herself, to see how long she could last. It didn’t take long for her to forget all about the clock, to sit there with her arms cradled around her roiling stomach and finally give in. The phone. She needed the phone.