He untwists the piece of paper—a page torn from Cain’s Book—and empties the yellowish powder into the spoon on the glass hotel coffeetable. The TV is on and William is out with Dirk, they went to eat or to do something equally revolting.

With not-yet-shaking hands, Scott manages the candle, and the match, and the candle is lit. He prepares the syringe first, with the rolling paper folded tight around the needle to seal the fit between the needle and eyedropper. And then he holds the spoon over the flame until the powder melts and bubbles. Then with his third hand he holds the spoon while with his other two hands he draws the bubbling liquid into the syringe. Then he holds the works down carefully so carefully, not shaking, and with his fourth and fifth arms takes off his belt. He may be shaking, by now, but only slightly.

He is thinking about Marla. And God.