Disclaimer: None of the Danny Phantom world is mine.
This is honestly a dark story. You have to also take into account while you are reading that Danny is probably drugged up, beaten down, and really tired when he's going through this.
Can you guess who the trainer is? If this story gets a response, I'll keep posting to it. :)
Dark drops are in my eyes. My hair is white, white as sugar, and my body glowing, but my sweat is dark. Black as ink and I don't know how long I'll be able to see.
My trainer laughs at me. He sees how soulless I'm becoming, how it's all working.
Working. My work is gross and I can't stand thinking about it. "More blast, less thought." My trainer says, his voice all around me like the speakers have become the walls. Panting, I push more power from my palms. My energy is sapping.
Once, I was half human. I see my humanity seeping out of my body, wetting the floor like dew on grass. If he could see it, my trainer might mop it up, laughing, knowing he was winning.
Now I am nothing. On my scarred wrists, the shock bracelets clang around. Whenever I move they rattle and bang, hurting my hands with their shiny iron grip. It would be better if I had no feeling there. Or anywhere.
I fall on the ground, shaking. My legs have tremors running up and down them and they change uncertainly to my ghostly tail and back. The body is close by, to my left. I can feel it's dead eyes looking at me. Why are you doing this to do me? It asks. Why can't I just rest in peace?
My trainer throws the door wide open. I can see his shoes, like he wants me to. When you are not human, you have to yield to the lucky ones who are.
Stalking in, he kicks my legs a few times. Knows that they'll stop flickering between tail and feet if he does. I feel my thigh yell for help. "Not good enough, Daniel," he says, shaking his head. "You didn't put your heart into it this time, did you?"
He circles me, slowly. I can hear my ragged breath, the click of his shoes, and, in my imagination, the body sighs. A few more black sweat drops flick off my nose and onto the floor. I'm on my hands and knees, just trying to catch my breath.
"More injuries, Daniel?" He pauses, planning his short laugh, "Why, weren't you fighting a dead dummy?" He executes the chuckle. "I guess even a corpse is too much for you."
I growl a little, in the back where no one can hear 'cept my lungs and molars. But somehow he hears and clicks his tongue. "More resistance. I thought, dear boy, that you were over that."
In a heartbeat, he had clawed my face up to look at his. The face I didn't want to see, and that haunted my dreams like the monster in the closet.
My body is sagging, too tired to care what I just did, what he told me to do. I want to curl up and sleep, let my eyes fuzz out the already blurry reception it is getting.
No. In the tiny place of my head, I can't. The part I won't let him touch or manipulate… it's all I have left. It tells me to hold up, fight this! Screams how I am a superhero and I should act like one.
I can't put myself out where he'll be able to get at me, the old me.
The tiny voice screams at me all the time. I don't think it realizes it could lose it's voice if it carries on too long.