We all battle inner temptation...

Hans fidgeted with the creases of the newsprint, sweat running down his chest in sluicing rivulets. Suddenly he stood up and paced the room, admonishing himself.

"I shouldn't read it! I can't! It would be madness, yet…" 

He sat again and fixed his red-rimmed eyes on the front page. His hand crept to the corner of the page, turning it slowly, his neck twitching in spasms. "No no no…" He said to the empty room in a choked whisper. 

Suddenly he ripped the newspaper open as a long-dormant inner demon seized control of the young man. He was no longer Hans, but a slave to his addiction, and fighting against it now was useless. 

His eyes scanned the page rapaciously, landing on the telltale circle. Billy was standing next to his father, asking him "If the wind is God sneezing, why doesn't he get a tissue?"

Hans sobbed and fell to the ground. His addiction was sated, but was it worth it? Was this awful price worth it? 

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