Hey there! This is my first Danny Phantom fanfic EVER. So excited. So, I wrote this late last night and finished at 1.30 AM. I hope you enjoy it.
Contains blood, self-harm and angsty stuff. No flames please. But review! Please Review!
I do not own Danny Phantom... But I would buy it and stare at it for hours on end.
Collapse of the Halfa Conscience
I liked the feeling.
The friend in my hand beckoning me with desirable taunts. The flash of dull silver stinging my eyes that refused to close. I had found this companion in my parents lab. In the basement. In the very depths of the house. Like me this partner was an outcast, alone in the world. With a dull mind I found myself here, amongst the many tools used for Ghost hunting. Immersed in the green shine of the Fenton Portal, from where I was doomed to this Half-Life, I dragged my unwilling feet across the tiles, gazing lazily around the place.
My frozen eyes washed across the extensive collection of ones I once called foes. White, green and black were common colours here, but they were also colours that reminded me too much of the one both my parents and I hated. A flash of silver caught my eye. An antique among the collection; one who was probably only here for decoration, and never for use. I connected with this being immediately when the cruel whispers of truth escaped from its iron lips.
My paled hand reached out towards the one and it reached back to me. I already felt the pain in my wrists draw a hopeful, sadistic smile across my double face. From the wall I plucked the new found friend and shivered in expectancy as the cool surface brushed my skin. The body of them was a sensual goddess; a snake twisted around the smooth curves, strangling the one beneath it. My fingers caressed the shine softly and I experienced tingles in my fingertips, like the electric-like substance that had made me half-dead. I hid my precious under my needing arm and dragged my empty figure up the never ending stairs to my room.
I burst in, shutting my door behind me with a soft click. Brimming with the need, I slumped down onto the hard, cruel floor, leaning against the wall with an arched back. They hated Him. The unnatural monster inside of me. The one they knew by His dead hair and soulless eyes; by the striking insignia worn foolishly across His chest. He could never show himself to them. He was a coward, a yellow-bellied swine. And, Therefore I hated Him more than my beloved parents did. He had caused so much pain in my pointless life. The rejection, the failure, the humiliation, the destruction. But, overall the unavoidable pain He had caused for those around Him. The countless lives and deaths He had ruined out of fulfilment of His so called Hero complex. He was a demon, the devil, a sickening ectoplasmic pile of goo trying to be something it wasn't; a human.
Before we had met I was a normal kid. No one would give me a second glance. The only attention I would get would be the many daily wailings Dash ensured without fail. But now? They still didn't notice me, but they noticed Him. Mr Popularity. Mr Hero. Mr Pointless. Mr Ghost-kid needs to be torn apart molecule by molecule. Whether it was for good reasons or not, He always found Himself decorating the front page of Amity Parks news journal, or as popular gossip among the school children I attended Casper High with. He didn't deserve the attention. He deserved to be shown how felt to be alone; to be unwanted and unnoticed. He deserved to feel the pain he had caused the citizens of Amity Park.
I felt the anger boil and rise in my chest, melting His ice core and paining my other half. The friend beneath my arm grinned mechanically and bullied Him harshly like I so wanted to bully Him. Sam and Tucker wouldn't do that for me. They had formed a sick bond with Him, one of which I was certain I wanted to destroy. Only this new acquaintance was productive in punishing the fiend. Together we would push out the demons who so plagued this town.
I held it tightly in my grasp, my knuckles turning white with the strength and raised my limb in a zombie-like fashion. In my crouched position, I glared at the faint blue and purple channels running beneath my thin skin, knowing that within these veins lay the unwanted foreigner I had grown to despise. I wished to tear out this being in the most torturous way possible. I could simply wish in front of Desiree for this to happen, but I wanted the pleasure or me and my companion. The one in my palm twitched in impatience and I felt my arm wander closer to my soft flesh. Like a graceful dancer, the friend touched their toe to the foes' flaw and He cringed and screamed at me in terror.
"PLEASE PLEASE NO WHAT ARE YOU DOING PLEASE YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING IT'S BOTH OF US WE'RE TOGETHER LET US SORT THIS OUT WHY DO YOU HATE US DON'T LISTEN TO THEM WE LOVE YOU WHY DO THIS THERE ARE BETTER WAYS TO RELEASE YOUR FEELINGS THAN THIS FENTON-" He babbled, burning my ears with an unmistakeable sting. But I did not listen to him. My new friend was more trustworthy and more reliable so the only shouts I listened to were the ones drawled at me by my faithful help. The words shhh-ed my painful eardrums like chloroform sending a man to sleep. It was all a dream. Some twisted, nauseating dream. The Newbies' caress grew harder and more necessary until I felt the sharp edge of its taunts finally break through the cowards' borders with a sharp sting.
The rush of crimson stained in a waterfall, reflecting the light coming from the lampshade behind me. The slight puckering in my flesh around my wound formed as I wished the demon out of my body. The beautiful ruby flow ran down my skinny extremity like paint. My friend in my grasp was sharing the glory of my defeat with a brush of vibrant colour spilled across their usually flawless surface in a dripping mess. My lungs emptied themselves in a deep sigh of relief as the fearful words of Him ran away. Unfortunately, my companions job was also suspended for now as it slipped out of my hold in a desperate escape from me. I was alone.
I looked down at the utensil, whose steel blade was now splattered with my blood from the deep and damaging gash on my wrist. This object was no longer perfect in my eyes, as the veil of numb fog was drawn from my vision. I now saw my arm, a bloody disgrace, and a cut deeper than any I had seen in those pictures you see. My skin was translucent and my eyes hollow, while my untidy black mop of hair was now straggly and fraught with my own sweat. My cracked lips drew in laboured breaths as I stared at the mess I had made. I felt more like a ghost than ever before. The disgust I now felt about myself was unavoidable. I felt the dry, acidic burn of bile rise and fall down my throat. A deep sob rose out of my chest and shook my figure mercilessly. A drip of sorrow fled from my barren eyes and flew down my cheek, dropping to the floor in a matter of seconds.
On one side, I hated myself, what I had become, and I hated what effect I had on my Parents, my friends and my worthless life in general. My ghost form seemed to be the route of all this, and even from my past experiences, was definitely evil. To destroy this pain, I would have to destroy the ghost.
On the other, I hated what I did to myself as a result. This was the first time I had cut myself, but purposeful aggravation of Dash, and going out and starting fights with Ghosts in the Ghost Zone was another method I found quite effective of relieving the pressure building in my crowded soul. It hurt, yes, but I knew that Phantom was being hurt too, and it was fine. But it wasn't. What if Jazz saw me do this? Mom? Dad? Tucker? ... Sam? What would they say? What would they do? They'd hate me even more. I could see their expressions of loathing scolding my eyesight now. I hated myself for hurting them that way. I deserved punishment, but that'd make them hate me even more.
What's right? What's wrong? What is the difference? Surely destroying the evil within me is right? But surely hurting myself is wrong? These thoughts spun through my head, making me grow dizzy as I grasped my thick, unkempt hair tightly between my sensitive digits. I pulled so hard my scalp turned an unnatural shade of White. I still cried hopelessly and my red eyes were squeezed tightly closed in denial of the poisonous thoughts running through my head. The knife lay pointless by my side, my blood wiped arm raised to my head as I gripped.
"... Danny?" The voice of my caring, overprotective, nagging sister rung out in my room causing me to jump and quickly stop the tight hold in my hair. I looked up with bloodshot eyes and drying tears crusting on my deathly face. The red-headed sixteen year old with great ambition clutched the handle tightly and wore a face of confusion, shock, horror and sadness all at the same time. She eyed the large knife by the side of me, that had already rubbed some of its cover off onto the floor. Then she looked at my arm, and her face grew solemn and pale.
I had forgotten to lock the door. Well, that's what happens when your mind is being yelled at by your ever diminishing conscience. I felt the self-loathing rise up in my mind again, ensnaring my thoughts and twisting them. I looked away from my sibling. I felt ashamed.
I hated the feeling.
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