How had he gotten himself into this? Was it punishment for his actions? If so, was he really that bad? Did he actually deserve this?
After the Desasteroid, he'd had nowhere left on earth to go, so when a ghost portal had opened up in space, seconds before the asteroid would have hit him, he had not stopped to think about it and just went through. He had found himself in a part of the Ghost Zone he had not been familiar with, but hadn't that seemed all the better, since it might diminish the chances of Daniel finding him in here?
So he had just flown off, aimlessly wandering, exploring. Searching for something that could be useful to him. Or someone.
Oh, and he had found someone, quite soon. But that wasn't true, was it? Because he knew by now, that they had found him.
And he had been too full of hurt pride and anger and, oh god, shame, so much shame, that he would have listened to anyone, would have followed anyone who seemed to be willing to help make things right.
And he had walked right into his doom.
Vlad couldn't even remember for how long he had been here. Was it months? Years? His sense of time had never fully worked inside the Ghost Zone, and after the first few times the pain had made him pass out it had failed him completely. All he knew was, that it had been long enough for him to get used to the shackles around his arms and his neck, because he barely felt them anymore.
He was exhausted.
They would usually come to heal his wounds, but those were always replaced by new ones shortly afterwards.
Sometimes they were suddenly nice to him. Bathed and clothed him. Fed him with actual human food, wherever they might get it. Talked to him.
Vlad had soon stopped refusing to speak with them. He hated how relieved he was to have someone to talk to, but he could not take the silence anymore, it was driving him insane.
But these talks always ended all too soon, and they'd be back to torturing him again. Making him lose the only thing that ever made him feel safe: Control.
He had no control over his body, as it just kept changing back and forth between his ghost form and his human form, trying to escape the pain.
He had no control over his voice, echoing from the walls, his cries being shoved back into his face.
He had no control over his thoughts, couldn't keep a clear head anymore, just wanted it to end.
And after some time, all he could think was: why?
Why were they doing it? He had never met this entity before, and he never got an answer when he asked. Who were they even?
Why him? Why would he deserve to suffer so much? Why would nobody help him?
But, even if someone knew he was here...Why would they? Literally everyone on earth hated him.
And all the ghosts he had met did, too. He had no one. No family, no friends, no allies. Nobody to care for him.
And was that not why he had always lost all his battles in the end?
But it was too late for that insight now. Nobody would safe him, even if they knew. They would probably be happy about his predicament.
They were right to. All he had done all his life was lie and steal and hurt people in his pursuit of power.
So, did he really deserve this?
.
.
.
.
Yes.
He deserved this and so much more. He was useless, worthless, weak, laughable, disgusting. Undeserving of affection. Undeserving of mercy.
The door opened. They walked in, came to a stop in front of him, crouched down. Looked at him.
Lifted up his chin with one hand, gently, almost caring.
He looked into their eyes. They were intriguing. Cold and warm at the same time. He couldn't explain it.
„Vlad." They said softly.
They had always known his name, right from the start. They had planned this, had wanted him to come to them, had saved him from death just to condemn him to a fate even worse.
He flinched, afraid they would hit him again, when they lifted their unoccupied hand to stroke a strand of hair out of his face. They noticed and stopped. Then they sighed.
„It does not have to be like this, you know that."
Vlad knew. They always came, gave him a „choice". Total submission. Or pain.
What was left of his pride had stopped him from giving in until now. He was not going to become someone's pet.
And besides...he deserved all that pain, didn't he?
But now. What did it even matter? This could go on for eternity. He was not missed by anyone.
And he was, in his heart, a coward. He was afraid. He was convinced he deserved this but he didn't want it, didn't want to be left to rot in this room, didn't want to be in such anguish all the time, didn't want to suffer any longer. And even after all this, he didn't want to die.
They spoke again.
„So what is it going to be, Vlad? Do we have to start over? Or will you be good from now on?"
He was sure he felt something inside him shatter, as he kept staring inside their eyes and heard his own hoarse voice rasp out.
„I...I will be good. I promise. I promise, Master."