!NOTE! Okay, I am NOT going to be having all the chapters I have already written for this story on this account right off because I am going threw each chapter, and adding on, as In they are getting more details and such. And then new chapters will start to appear for you fans of this story, Ring the Toxin, formerly on my Immortalis Ramala account, and started transferring to Please.dont.panic. But this is my new, official, and permanent account (hopefully, lol)

RING

the

TOXIN

By A.D. Taylor

PART ONE

For every child who cries at night
Alone with shame and pain and fright

For every child who wants so much
To only feel a gentle touch

For the beaten child, who cries in pain
whose tears run silent, like the rain?

For the child used to satisfy lust
Who never learns to love or trust

For the child taken from her home
And made to feel so all alone

For the child whose home is just a shell
Where life becomes a living hell

For the child who smiles but cannot feel
Because of scars too deep to heal

For every child who yearns for love
I hope and pray to God above
To hear your cries and heal your pain
And give you back your life again

Kathy Williams
1964-1996

Chapter One

The day had been warm simply, but magnified by the smoldering humidity that clung to the air relentlessly. It was not the best time for me, though true, the stars that twinkled in the night sky, and the nearly full moon lit the sky up in a enchanting display, now that the sun had set. The day was old, and night was new, and aging all to quickly, with no time really for me to take in and gaze in aw that the beauty that was the night. And here I was walking home with my arms draped over my chest, baby blue eyes down and looking at the ground, for what I knew was waiting for me behind the door of home. But I couldn't avoid it; I had no were else to go, and it was as if I had chains that pulled me beck by hooks any time I did not wish to return to that shell of a place, that hell. Here I was in a v neck dress shirt with half arm sleeves, and a pair of short shorts clinging to my waist, and sweat darkening the material with each passing minute. It was a disgusting feeling, and I bet I looked about as disgusting in the moment, as I was feeling.

I was walking now for four hours, and I had long come to the conclusion that I hated dating, and boys were stupid arrogant pricks who made life a living hell, and I wished that aliens would beam them up into the heavens. And then, my problem would be solved, I had even tried to talk them into it, yet of course, I had gotten no reply what so ever. We can pretend? Cant we? I had been on my first date today, at the age seventeen, which was considered rather pathetic; I do admit it is… But the guy had one thing on his mind as he drove us out to the beach, skipping out on that dinner I had been promised by him. Then Mr. High and mighty made my night even worse than a simple missed meal. He made a move, tried getting in my shorts, but really, that is the last thing I want, I rejected him, got out, yelled at him… And being a complete idiot, in stead of asking for a ride home, being much too angry to think straight, tolled him to 'get the fuck out of my sight you son ova bitch loser cow'. He drove away and very happily left me to walk home.

Fresh air was the last thing I needed, I had so much goddamn fucking fresh air my lungs were ready to pop. I needed to be in home, in my room. Inside the walls of the shell I lived in, again, in my room, so I wouldn't become a WWF punching bag. For Christ sake, I had been so fucking good to for the past year, I mean, angel sweet with absolutely nothing to provoke my fathers wrath on me, which meant that I could actually wear clothing like I was. I would be forced to wear long, heating jeans and long sleeved shirts now, in the middle of a heat wave, I was more than sure of it. Steeling a glance to the watch around my slim wrist, I saw the time was three in the morning, the very object I had pretended to forget I had, hoping that so long as I didn't look at it, time actually didn't exist, and would stop so I wouldn't be obscenely late at getting home. THREE IN THE FUCKING MORNING. I was supposed to be home at ELEVEN. I was more than screwed over because of that jack off I called a date. That's what one gets for not thinking before acting.

How could I have been so stupid? I wasn't one of those air headed buffoon's you saw in movies and among the rich and famous. I was a level headed, older than my age girl… Yet here I was after making an armature teen mistake. I must have taken some stupid pills today somehow. Daddy would love this, oh would he ever have a ball.

STUPID STUPID STUPID

I could have at least gotten a ride home… But would that block head even let me ride back with him in the first place after stamping all over his manly pride. Would I have just been tossed out? Some days one just has the power to wish, and to give up. Good old dad was six foot seven tall, getting on in the years, fat and all, boring dull brown hair. Brown eyes. Really a plain guy to look at, but boy could that son ova bitch hit well. He might be out of shape, but next to someone, say… Oh, 5'6… He could easily beat the crap out of them. As in, me. He was irrational, a short temper, his motto, I swear, must be fist first, ask later.

Now, it was not my fault that I had gone with a prick who thought with his dick, (wow, I can even rhyme in my siduation, I think I can hear the voices clapping!) but when I got home, when ever that is, it would be. Well, okay, I could have said, say, "no way man, I don't want to go out with you", but understand that I, have never been asked out before other than nose pickers back in grade seven… or even earlier. I got to exited… And anyways, if I tolled my father what happened he most likely would end up thinking I slept with that disgusting excuse of a human, and make things oh so much harder. Here I was three in the morning, and walking home. Maybe the big bastard was in bed… perhaps he forgot a certain someone was supposed to be coming home from a date…

Now who was living on day dreams and fairy tales? Me! Oh pick me! Of course, my little voice had to squeal like she had just got bingo. Yay, you are the lucky winner of a pissed of dad, and a night as a living punching bag! Whoot! Congratulations, and enjoy! I make me think I sound crazy. Maybe I am, been bonked on the head one million times to many. And what do you know? Ah, here I was my lovely home street. Now I am not just saying that it looks nice, it is very nice. My father is rich, upper class, respected, thus why he has the power, and the ability to keep his little matches with his lovely little daughter under wraps. I dare not even tell the few friends I had. Had as in I am that creepy loner girl who has her very own table to herself. Do I mind? Yes, but I really don't feel like I can relate to everyone these days. Someone was so kind as to tell me I was much like a zombie. Accept I would scare the real Zombies, cause you know, I look deader somehow.

And at times I very well could feel dead. But I wasn't, at least not yet. Perhaps after tonight my status might just have to be changed to, well. Dead. Really, personally, I was not looking forward to finding that one out. I think I could actually do something with my life, I was brilliant, according to teachers, I did all my work, read frequently… Even if I have been dropped and smacked up side the head one to many times, it doesn't seem to truly have any effect on me other than constant headaches, and making idiotic decisions such as this one. Why, was I going home? I always ask myself that question, every day, mostly since my mom died.

Here the street of my house was. The white house of the street, the other houses were darker, elegant yet gloomy. How ironic that my house seemed to be the safest, happiest houses on the block. It truly was far, far from that. Happy. It felt like a death trap. And sighing reluctantly, as I looked at the door, lit up, like some divine entrance. But as I saw the lights on in the living room, I knew, basically, that I was 'fucked'. My dad was awake, waiting, and absolutely pissed. No, I have yet to spot the son ova bitch, but I know him better than anyone else does. Other than my deceased mother. She knew the tales of me, miss Angelique Oleander, daughter of Marcus Oleander. A great lawyer who freed innocent men and woman, who prosecuted wife beaters, murderers, child abusers, and so on. As in, people much like himself. It takes one to know one… Not that anyone really knew that about him.

I learned to live with it when my mother Anne died of cancer, she was the light of my life, and she kept me alive, even took beatings for me, she was a trouper, but with the cancer, she was defeated and never had a chance. One day daddy took her to the hospital, and never came back, and vulla, I was a motherless child. Lucky girl got out of the pain. He had turned all of his issues on me, it was no longer a split beating. But I learned to take it. Learned how to make keep the pain from coming. And tonight I basically screwed myself over. I know, tired, I might be able to detach myself before the real pain comes, but the chances were I couldn't. Sometimes I could, never said every time, or most of the time even.

Now here I was, finally home, and stalling. Every part of me wanted to run, to disappear and just forget this sad chapter of my life. But were would I go. Truly I knew people would not take my side. They would much quicker blame my date of tonight. They would feel sorry from him; never think that he was the bad guy. Here in Dimmorta, he was a hero. I was a problem child. A freak. Well. Might as well be off and in to get what was coming for me. I knew it was coming; all I was doing was trying to stall this infliction from occurring. It wasn't going to make anything better, but even if this was something that I had grown up with. I still dreaded it. How did I dread it so completely. But here I was, still waiting to cross the street, up to the white doors, and take what was coming to me. I couldn't run away. I was attached to this house by invisible chains, and it pulled my back home every day, every time I left. The worst kind of trap.

Just the kind of luck I was getting tonight. Being so concentrated on my front doorstep I hand not heard another on the walks. Of course I ended up walking right into the only person outside now. Who ever that was, it was strange. Now three thirty in the morning in a upscale street… All those big boys in business and such, along with the kids going to school tomorrow… Well, excluding me… Were asleep and snuggled up warm in their beds, with their visions of tomorrow, dancing in their heads. Lucky. Fucking lucky brats… Anyways, the person I ran into had knocked my flat on my sorry ass. Was I the luckiest person in the world? I had gasped in shock as I hit the hard paved walks, feeling my elbows scrape skin off. As did parts of my legs. Well, hell, might as well start beating myself up to get ready for the explosion of my fathers temper. I winced at the thought of what he would be yelling at me behind the insolated, very sound proof walls of ours.

How angry would he be? Possibly this could be the worst beating he ever laid out. I couldn't think of anything more punishable for him. This was going to have him over the top pissed. Funny, here I am, bleeding on the sidewalk, and thinking about what was going to happen. Not to what just had happened. An elegant hand extended in front of my face, offering help in getting up. All that happened was me, staring at it for a moment before putting a scrapped, hand into the helper. I bit my lip as the person pulled me up with ease. Made me feel like a piece of paper. Finally, for the first time I looked up at the person I had smacked right into. And it was a boy. Nothing at all like my date, whom had been handsome… But he held nothing to this guy.

This boy had blonde hair, it was obvious, even in the poor lighting that it wasn't his natural hair color… Yet how it suited him so well! His brows were dark, furrowed as if concentrating hard on something. His skin was pale, not scary pale, but still not the usual tanned person you found here. His skin looked smooth as a newborns, flawless and luminosity even in the bad light given off by the houses in front of us. His eyes were dark brown, such a deep brown. His body was lean and muscled, it was obvious under the button up shirt he had, that was snug up on his torso. His legs had black dress pants. He looked clean cut, like he belonged in this area… But the aura of him was compelling. I felt my heart race at the sudden realization of his soft silk like hand on my own. His hand was soft, and actually warm, a nice warm, but still… Somehow felt cooler than most people… Strange sounding, maybe I am bonkers.

He was absolutely beautiful. Like a piece of art...

To me he looked like he should be a god on a throne being fed grapes, not some random guy walking down the street at three thirty in the morning and getting blind sided by clumsy old me. Now of course I realized that I was staring at the poor guy. Who looked very much like a god to me, I managed a smile.

"Ah, sorry about that… I'm accident prone, accidents, falling, crashing, twisting. Name of my game"

He still had his brows furrowed in the same look that had deep thought seemingly written all over it. But he managed a small upturn of his lips. A small smile, but it lightened the mood, and much to my embarrassment it made me swoon, I felt like I was about to start drooling. Goddamn! What happened to me saying all men should be beamed up to… mars… or was it the heavens… He should be in the heavens, he's a fucking angel…. Gah! Who the fuck are you and what the bloody hell have you done with Angelique! AH! I'm going back to British cursing… A habit I have from my British faze, not a good time for me.

"That's fine. I'm indestructible"

He joked at me, I grinned like a fool, unable to look away from him. His eyes held an amusement that seemed really only meant for himself. As if there was a joke within the joke. Fuck the aliens, I want this guy on a pedistle in my room… or in my… Wait, loosing track of myself here. Back on track. That wonderful… I mentally hit myself, and get on with my doom.

"Um… Well… Sorry, I really got to go though"

"Late getting home and avoiding an angry attack of the parents?" the boy guessed. I smiled wearily. The thought of my dad re-entering my mind. Panic and resentment must have been in my eyes, his brow furrowed further at it.

"Something like that"

He nodded, moving to the side, "Perhaps they will show merci on you because of your wonderfully executed fall"

He smiled as if trying to comfort me. Memories swirled, then my mom, poor woman, entered my mind. I felt as if they had been herded out, but I pushed the feeling aside. I looked back to him, square in the eye, as having lost eye contact at the topic of my father… well. Parents.

"I doubt it"

I forced myself to look away from those deep, probing brown eyes. I waved over my shoulder as I rushed across the street without looking. And my luck a car was passing, and just missed hitting me. The driver honked and I froze. I didn't look back, as I could swear I felt eyes on me, my cheeks flushed an embarrassed pink. That was when my dad flung open the door, his eyes wide with rage as he pointed at me.

"You, are in BIG trouble girl. Get yourself in this house on the double!"

I looked at him and cringed, steeling a glance over my shoulder, and saw no one. All that was behind me were the lines of trees in the thick forest. No one on the side walk. Turning back to my dad I walked up the steps, taking in a deep breath, savoring it greatly. I walked to the door were my father was. He grabbed my arm, not even taking note to my physical injuries, though minor, they were noticeable. He never noticed. His iron grip pulled me into the house with extreme force. As I swallowed a scream and nearly fell, I could swear that I saw the boy were I run into him… Where he had been missing when I looked back. The door slammed, giving me absolutely no time to confirm it. I really am loosing my mind.

As the door slammed, my world became a unbearable burning pain all over as I took hit, after hit. Screaming for everyone who couldn't hear me, a scream that my daddy couldn't hear, that fucking bastard. The screams resounded in the chambers of my mind, the only thing he couldn't control. In my room I lay on the floor, still. Quite, tears threatening to start falling down my face. I felt so broken and fragile, never feeling this way before. Ever. Searing pain everywhere. How alone I felt in the ever so cruel world…