It wasn't much, but it was the only thing keeping him going at that moment - just one hit, he promised himself, nearly cracking the vial he held in his clenched fist, the glowing contents of it swirling dangerously as his tightened grip increased. It'd been a narrow escape this time, and he almost hadn't made it to his room. He stored vials of purified ectoplasm in his wall and under the floorboards of his room for emergencies like these. He hated calling this little injury an emergency, but he was bleeding out heavily and quickly from several holes in his body, though thankfully, they were in and out so there would be no fiddling with tweezers and cotton balls. He hated this part, sure, but it made him feel human, at the very least. The bed creaked as he sat back, exhaling heavily through his teeth in a hiss as it jarred his aching ribs.
It'd been yet another fight with Valerie that had resulted in his injuries, one too many things shouted at each other in his human form and too much pent up anger and hurt on both sides that lead to them fighting high above Amity Park, the light show of lazers and glowing ectoplasm attracting onlookers who just barely managed to dodge the debris left behind their attacks. He didn't get how people risked their lives just to see some dumb fight, but then again, he was just the one fighting, anyways. A sharp intake of breath escaped him as he wrapped the wounds, making certain that there wasn't anything that he'd have to stitch back together before sliding the medkit beneath his bed and kicking the covers a bit to conceal it, though it wasn't like anyone was gonna rifle through all his stuff (unless his mom was looking for dirty laundry.), so there really was little precaution in the way he went on with things, hiding experiments in his closet if they proved to be a danger to him.
He shook his head, scowling as he brought his attention back to the matter at hand - Valerie Grey, the Red Huntress. He knew this was unhealthy, but in a way, he liked the way it hurt him, both physically, mentally and emotionally. He felt he deserved it, after all the things he's done and could do. A shudder rippled down his spine as his thoughts immediately flickered towards his future, heart picking up its pace as the words 'I'm inevitable' rang through his ears, his ears quite literally ringing as he didn't seem to pull in enough air through his mouth and nostrils. He quickly moved back to his thoughts on Valerie, gritting his teeth. It hurt, but he deserved it. This was just his Karma for the things he'd done.
But it wasn't. He was doing this to himself - if he'd just told her, they wouldn't be like this. Well, that wasn't true, she'd definitely try to strangle him more than she already had. He didn't like admitting the abusive situation they were in - she was rather controlling as to when he could see his friends, what they would do together, what little he could do without her - and they both had their secrets. Said secrets being Danny Phantom and the Red Huntress, sworn enemies yet closeted lovers. He briefly found himself thinking that the shade of red of her suit was the same as blood, giving a bitter laugh as he realized that if she had really looked closely enough, his looked just about the same. But no, there were never any questions, only anger, fire and fury.
He was scared that one day he was going to snap on her for all that she had done to him, and for parading around as though she were the victim when truly, her life was far better than his. That fact alone made his blood boil whenever she claimed he'd 'ruined her life', when in reality, he'd made it even better. As if anyone would want to hang out with those fake girls and sit alone in a large empty house - it truly was like Vlad's way of life. Of course her employer would happen to be Vlad, right? Fate just had to bitch slap him in the face over and over again, it seemed. She was milking it all it was worth, taking the pity for herself and using it to her advantage to get what she needed. Was it her fault? He wasn't certain at this point, but he knew she was taking it too far, and it was enraging.
If only she had felt the struggle that he was going through, the constant broken bones, bruises, gashes, and concussions he'd come home with only to realize his parents were down in the basement doing god knows what to some poor ghost that he couldn't dare help for fear of being on their cold, metal examination table all over again. He was weak, and he knew it, but god it hurt to hear their screams. Once he'd patched himself up, it was the same routine every night - release the ghost into the portal, limp back upstairs and log the files for the ghosts he'd captured before passing out on blood and ectoplasm stained sheets that he hardly had enough money to afford to replace due to the constant re-opening of his wounds.
He was just so fucking tired of it all - he just wished she would feel what he felt.
And part of him was terrified of himself for wanting that, especially with the dark whispers at the very edges of his mind urging him to go through with the selfish, painful desires he had in his chest, the green ectoplasm flickering between a glowing red and green - not quite blood, but a different type of ectoplasm. He had no idea how it happened or how it changed color, but he knew what it meant - his obsession kept changing, and he knew exactly what they were.
Green means go, red means make them feel exactly what I felt.