A/N: I thought it only best to warn any readers before they read this. It will be sick, it will be nasty, and it will be unpleasant.

If you've read the book you will know exactly where this fanfic intends to go... If you don't know this book, or the story, I'm warning you now that you may not like what you read here... or perhaps you may find it somewhat arousing, I don't know. But please, either way I hope you enjoy the ride.


Chapter 1

I'm A Danger To Myself

Toby Harteveld; millionaire, socialite, recluse of his own mind, coke addict and heroin junkie. A man who could afford the finest of things, from beautiful women to glistening white lines of purest cocaine and liquid heroin he acquired in abundance, although he never held the massive quantities in this grand house; they were safely hidden in his other residence. Some would say he had issues, some would say he was eccentric, but only he truly knew what kind of man he was. Whether you blamed it on his mother or some other influence was irrelevant, but she had certainly left her impact. With her taunts and insults, the way she yelled, her flesh red and flushed; how the Hell it was possible that she was his mother was beyond him. The years of abuse... he recalled every night, hearing her through the walls, believing deep his gut that she had been in his room, pleasuring herself with frantic, fiery movements. He'd spent years sleeping on his front, never allowing her access to his room, unable to fall asleep until he was sure she was in her own room, far away from his.

Toby Harteveld... He was a man hiding a terrible secret, a deep writhing in his guts that he felt everyday and had done for years... ever since he'd realised exactly what it was he wanted.

A life of privileges had given him many highs, the best things money had to buy, his education being but one of them but with the highs had come the lows and darkest of days. Relief from what he'd discovered about himself came only in the form of class A drugs, but even that could only dull the ache he felt that to this day in this thirty-seventh year, an ache he could not fully understand and dared not try to explain to another human; save one, and how that day still sunk its claws deeper still, that one night he'd chosen to stay behind in the labs at UMDS after they'd shut, the day he'd decided he would finally do what he'd wanted to do as soon as they'd wheeled her out for examination; and he would've gone ahead with it too, had he not been interrupted… or was he simply beaten to his goal by the other person who was also in the room that night?

The memory itself stung his eyes, he lifted the glass of Pastis to his lips and rubbed his temples to try and relieve the headache that brewed there, the painkillers had had little effect. He could do with another hit, but that would mean finding a new syringe and right now that seemed like too much effort. Instead he placed his smallest finger to his mouth, licking the elongated, pointed nail in the hope that some residue of cocaine was still there.

He sat watching the swarm of people that had attended this evening. A party, just like the one the night before and the one before that too, more a gathering of other socialites, doctors, surgeons, people with money and a smaller collection of random visitors some of whom he didn't even know and female escorts, perhaps one of these fine women could be bought for the evening. Just had to hope they'd listen to his demands.

This was his one final attempt to regain control of his life. Only a week ago, he'd crossed a milestone in his life, one he feared he couldn't go back on, only a week ago an opportunity had been presented to him, almost as if fate had put her there, and in his own bed of all places; like a dream come true, and he'd taken full advantage of the situation, despite how his gut had churned over it afterwards. No, he had to regain control, this was his thing, his own personal demon that all men have in their lives; he had to combat it somehow...

"A bit wild, isn't it?" a small voice said beside him, it made his blood shot eyes dart to the sound which had managed somehow to penetrate through the rest of chorus around him. A girl, possibly in her early to mid twenties he deduced was about to sit next to him on the sofa that matched the leather chair he sat in.

She wasn't talking to him, rather to the girl behind her, "Who exactly was it that invited you again?" she asked as she stirred her vodka and orange with a straw.

"Jake did, he said he knows this guy and we could come along, it's cool Jess, don't bitch about it,"

"This isn't a party though is it, I mean everyone's so fucking high that no one's actually here right now."

He glanced to his side as the girl reclined on the sofa. She wore a black PVC dress, short with a ruffled skirt that only just covered her arse; beneath the ruffles long, white legs descended down to black stilettos, lifting her heels at least five inches off the ground.

"Oh just shut up will you, just be thankful someone took you out for once," The girl who stood wore a tight white top that through the thin material her black bra could be seen, her skirt was by all impossibilities even shorter than her friends. She spun round to scan the crowd of people in the room, her dark brown ponytail swung violently as if she intended to strike someone with it. She turned back to her friend on the sofa, "Now, I'm gonna see if I can find Jake. He said he'd be here. Said he'd introduce me to the guy who owns the place, his name's like, Toby or something shitty like that, bit of a weirdo apparently, but the word is that he'll shoot up for you, inject it in your arm and everything with no pain, great huh?"

"Whatever, I'll stick to the weed thanks," she reached for her small evening bag, also black but satin so it matched the dress without being too tacky.

Toby noticed it immediately: the way she moved. Slow, small movements, a tiny flick of her fingers to open the bag, delicate motions as she removed tobacco, rizlas and a small plastic pouch containing the narcotic.

"Oh please, you're gonna waste your night on that when there's free H and coke in the room?"

"Those are your poisons, not mine."

With that, the girl merged herself into the crowd to find whoever it was who'd invited her.

Toby watched the girl next to him in silence for a while, watched her roll a spliff while smoking a roll up. Every action she took was slow and gentile, not clumsy at all. She seemed almost oblivious to any distraction around her; occasionally she reached for her glass of vodka and orange, taking a small sip and then placing it back on the table. Her skin was very pale, but her makeup was dark around the eyes, her hair a striking shade of black, as if she'd stepped out of a Disney cartoon, unnaturally black for her complexion so he assumed –correctly- that she'd dyed it recently.

"I think your friend should learn some manners," he said softly for he hadn't spoken much today.

"Ha, you're telling me..." she turned to face him, taking in his features for the first time. He was smoking a cigarette, through the haze she could see that his eyes were bloodshot and she wondered just how much he'd already had and what of. His dark hair was longish, but not long enough to be tied back. His shirt unbuttoned at the top revealed the skin of his chest. Attractive... in an odd sort of way she supposed; very pale with striking eyes, a bit underweight perhaps, but it seemed more exaggerated due to his height which was evident already. Some would've called him lanky; she preferred to say lean.

She lit the spliff, taking a deep breath and once again sinking back into the sofa to watch the world go by. She turned to face the guy who'd spoken to her and rested her face on the arm rest. He had not yet taken his eyes off her, "So, I hear the guy who owns this place is kinda strange,"

"That could be considered an understatement," he said as he smoked.

"I like strange people, so much more fun to be around," she smiled, "They have interesting stories to tell," she took another puff on the spliff and handed it across to him. He took it with a genuine smile, took several long drags one after the other and then gave it back to her, exhaling a long steady jet of smoke as he did.

"I'm Jessica by the way, or Jess if you'd prefer" she extended her hand to him, shaking her head to throw her hair from her face.

He reached across, placing his cigarette in his other hand so that he could extend the correct hand as appropriate, "My name's Toby Harteveld,"

She shook his hand, not realising the name he'd said at first, but as he gripped her fingers in his soft, almost effeminate clutch it dawned on her, "Toby?" she questioned, he smiled in a sly way with only one side of his mouth, "As in, the host...?"

He nodded, noticing the slight tremble in her fingers and how chilled they were.

She giggled and shook her head in shame, "I'm so sorry, oh man, I must seem like a proper idiot, and a rude one at that, really I'm so sorry,"

"No offence taken," he laughed, "I've heard much worse said about me,"

She bit her lip with embarrassment still at how she'd been so rude, hoping to find something to say that could take it away, and luckily for her it presented itself easily, "Well, can I just say, I love what you've done with the place. Seriously, it's lush; the art work in this room alone is to die for,"

"You like it?"

"Well, I wouldn't know if it was a Picasso or Van Gogh or even the difference between them but I know a good piece when I see it,"

Toby raised an eyebrow beneath his long hair, it had been a long time since he'd heard someone pronounce Van Gogh's name correctly by someone who was supposedly interested in art and was both surprised and impressed to hear the right pronunciation.

She looked up above the mantelpiece behind his chair, above it hung a large and imposing painted portrait of a man and woman, it was clear from the features in both their faces that these two people were more than likely Toby's parents, neither of them had given him anything specific but the similarities were there. It had not escaped her attention though that the chair Toby sat in faced away from the portrait. She'd read enough Sherlock Holmes in her lifetime to know that this implied he had no love for them, but at the same time it was still hung there with their eyes watching him. Jess looked at Toby again and smiled. "How did you get so well off?"

"It's largely from inheritance, but I work in pharmaceuticals and that earns a lot of expendable cash,"

"Drugs, huh?" she giggled and Toby couldn't help but smile himself at her observation, "Lucky you. Some of us have to work to afford our drugs. I suppose you've got heaps of the stuff somewhere?"

"Somewhere, yes... but not here,"

"One more question, a really cheesy one I'm afraid. What star sign are you?"

"Sagittarius," He didn't think much of the whole astrology game, but Jessica seemed impressed.

"Yeah, I think I can see that, in your eyes,"

Her eyes were pleasant, a soft grey in colour, boarding almost on green in certain light, not that he cared much for the colour of her eyes, or anyone's for that matter. He could only look at her and see what he wanted to see. On her back, naked, perhaps covered by a micrapor sheet, her skin drained of colour, upon a stainless steel table...

He leant forward to her as he put his cigarette out, "Let me ask you a question,"

"Mh-hm...?" she took a slow sip of her drink.

"How wasted are you right now?"

"Um..." she thought for a moment, thought about how much she'd had to drink and the fact that she was on her third spliff of the evening, "Enough that I'm willing to be led astray by an attractive man, but not so wasted that it should play on your conscience,"

A mischievous smile came to Toby's lips and his eyes, "Good, because that's how I'm feeling," he said as he rose to his feet, "Well then, perhaps you'd like to see some other rooms if you'd rather not partake of the drugs, although if you want I could administer them for you. Your friend was right about that, I used to be a doctor."