She let his words hang there, knowing they were true. Time after time, when she swore she'd had enough of him, she went back for more, hating him, despising herself, yet returning all the same. It was as if she had no will that was not tied to his.

And, for God's sake, what was he? Not warm. Not handsome. Not easy to know. Not anything she once dreamed she'd be taking into her bed. He was merely an interesting face on which every single feature seemed to argue with all the others to dominate the bony skull beneath it. He was dark, olive skin. He was hooded eyes. He was a thin scar running along the line of his jaw. He was nothing, nothing.. . except a way of looking at her, of touching her, of making her thin boyish body sensual and beautiful and flaming with life.

She felt defeated. The air in the car seemed stifiingly hot.

'Sometimes I think of telling them,' she said. 'They say that's the only way to cure it, you know.'

'What the hell are you talking about?' She saw his fingers curl.

'Important people in the user's life find out. His family. His employers. So he bottoms out. Then he-'

Justin's hand flashed, caught her wrist, twisted hard. 'Don't even think of telling anyone. Don't even think of it. I swear if you did, Sid… if you do…'

'Stop it. Look, you can't go on like this. What are you spending on it now? Fifty pounds a day? One hundred? More? Justin, we can't even go to a party without you-'

He dropped her wrist abruptly. 'Then, get out. Find someone else. Leave me bloody well alone.'

It was the only answer. But Sidney knew she couldn't do it and she hated the fact that she probably never would.

'I only want to help.'

'Then, shut up, all right? Let me go down that sodding alley, make the buy and get out of here.' He shoved open the door and slammed it behind him.