So the title of the story came into my head when I almost fell asleep. (Because Danny is half human—alive, and half ghost—dead. Instead of 'Scarred for life'.)

English isn't my native language! So, I reread, revision, improve... A LOT! Taking much time to do that, but I love it ;3. (I personally can't live with typographic mistakes, lol.)

TW: Violence — Graphic Content

~ Thoughts Go Blind ~

I've been wasting time, take me home, where did I go wrong now?

I've been lost, before, never fell this low, I'm in my prime

- Dominic Donner

———

Prologue

Danny had been captured by the GiW once again, leaving him feeling utterly helpless—vulnerable. There was nothing he could do. A heavy metal collar encircled his neck, delivering electric shocks to subdue him like a wild animal.

The metal collar pressed down painfully on his collarbones through his black hazmat suit, tightening around his throat and making it difficult to swallow or even breathe properly. It felt like it was bruising him every time he tried to move. The collar, three inches high, was as heavy as a bowling ball, with sharp edges like a serrated knife that nearly grazed the underside of his chin. A low buzzing sound came from the left side each time he tried to loosen it, gripping it tightly with his gloved hands. When his fingers curled around the cuff, or if he moved too sharply, it would send a jolt of electricity coursing through his neck, up the left side of his face, and into his eye. The burning sting made his eye tear up, worsening the pain—only to be followed by another jolt. It felt as though the electricity crawled into the veins of his head and attacked the nerves of his brain, triggering a sudden, dizzying headache.

What was it that triggered it? Was someone watching him 24/7? Or was it truly because he tried to get it off—or even just moved?

He was gasping for breath, unable to bear the pain any longer. His body grew numb, forcing him to collapse onto his knees, hitting the cold, unforgiving concrete floor. He fell forward onto his hands, his entire body shivering—trembling from the aftershocks. He fought to stay upright, refusing to give in. No—he wasn't someone who would give up so easily. He had to break free. He had a purpose—a goal. To escape—wherever he was, whatever this place was.

He clenched his teeth tightly, an ache radiating through his jaw—not that it was worse than the electric shocks from the collar. The pain was unbearable, pounding relentlessly in his head. It felt like the collar was the reason he couldn't use any of his powers, the jolts sending waves of agony through the nerves in his brain.

His vision swam, blurred and unfocused, as tears welled up, blurring everything further. Dark spots crept into his sight, threatening to consume the scene in front of him. Desperate, he squeezed his eyes shut, pinching them tightly together as if that might block out the agony. But no matter how hard he tried, the pain was relentless, crashing over him like a merciless tide.

"He's getting weaker. I think we can finally transfer him," a deep, echoing voice said, sounding like it was far away—yet disturbingly close.

Danny's hearing was failing, overtaken by a relentless, high-pitched ringing in his left ear that drowned out everything else. The faint murmur of muffled voices barely reached him, distant and distorted. He struggled to open his eyes, the simple act feeling like an impossible battle, his body betraying him at every turn.

He turned his head slowly to the left, his vision swimming with dark spots and hazy shapes. Two white, indistinct figures emerged from the blur, like white shadows against the darkness. They moved closer, growing larger and more defined in his unsteady, fractured sight.

A sudden wave of electricity ripped through his body, searing his veins and nerves with unbearable, burning agony. The pain was blinding, and his instinct was to clamp his eyes shut as tightly as he could, a futile attempt to block it out. His trembling hand shot up to his forehead, fingers clutching at his snow-white hair, as though tearing at it might somehow lessen the torment. But it was useless—everything was spinning, his mind clouded with pain and disorientation. His body, drained of the last remnants of strength, gave out entirely. He crumpled onto the cold concrete with a hollow thud, the side of his head smacking against the unyielding ground. The impact sent fresh waves of pain shooting through his skull, but he was too far gone to even react.

He was still conscious, but it felt as if his brain, his very mind—his soul—was dissolving, melting away like molten lava searing through every fragile nerve. The agony was relentless, venomous, creeping into every corner of his being, leaving nothing untouched. It was as if the pain itself was devouring him, piece by excruciating piece.

Danny shivered uncontrollably, curled into himself with his knees drawn tightly to his chest, his arms weakly wrapped around them as though he could shield himself from the world. Every limb felt numb, but the ache in his purring core was unbearable. He felt helpless—vulnerable—like a child abandoned in the dark. Why? Why was this happening? What had he done to deserve this? All he'd ever wanted was to protect, to save lives, not to hurt anyone—never. Was this his reward for being a hero? For sacrificing everything?

He couldn't turn back into his human form—not now, not ever—not while he was in the hands of these… these so-called Guys in White. The GiW. They operated under the government, some shadowy department like the CIA—or maybe even something akin to Area 51. A secret unit tasked with capturing entities they believed didn't belong here. On this overpopulated planet of eight billion humans, there was no room, no tolerance for anything that strayed from their narrow definition of normal. And of course, they hadn't bothered to count the animals, insects, or the rest of Earth's inhabitants. Humans had claimed this planet ancient times ago, clawing their way to the top of the food chain and declaring themselves its rulers. Now, in this cold, unyielding society, there was no room for mistakes, no room for differences. Anything non-human was an error—a problem to be captured, studied and probably erased. Of course, they thought it had to be this way. Of course, they did.

Even when Danny was human—well, part of him was. Or was he? Did he even count as human anymore? They could never find out. Nobody could ever know. Only his two best friends, Sam and Tucker, knew—at least, they used to be best friends. And Jazz, his sister—she knew, too. And, of course, Vlad. He always knew. How could he not? Vlad was just like him: a halfa, a hybrid, half ghost and half human. He was the only ones who understood what it meant to live between two worlds, to exist as something that defied everything society deemed acceptable.

Or had these government agents already figured out what he was? The thought gnawed at him, tightening the pit of dread in his stomach. Danny desperately hoped they didn't know—that they couldn't know. If they did, it would make everything so much worse.

His parents. Oh god—his parents. They could never know. They could never find out that their son was both human and ghost—never. The thought alone made his chest tighten, his heart pounding with a suffocating dread. He was the very thing they feared most, the thing they hunted with obsessive zeal. Ghosts were their adrenaline rush, their battle cry. He could still hear their voices echoing in his mind, shouting with fervor that they would tear apart every ghost—especially him—molecule by molecule. They wouldn't see their son; they'd see a specimen, an unknown entity, a threat to be studied, dissected, destroyed. And the worst part? He knew they'd try to rip that so-called monster, that beast, out of him. No. No, he couldn't let himself think about it.

Danny's alter ego was—no, is—Phantom. A coping mechanism, a mask he could wear when dread consumed him, when the weight of bad situations like this became too much to bear. Since the portal accident three years ago, Phantom had been his refuge, his armor. And now, it was Phantom protecting what remained of his human half, shielding the fragile piece that still clung to hope.

Was he here—there? Trapped in some forbidden wasteland in the middle of a desolate desert? He couldn't even remember how he had ended up in this place. His mind scrambled for answers, but nothing came. What had happened? Back home… did he even still have a home? Or was this lifeless prison now his new reality? How long had he already been here? Days? Weeks?

His mind grew hazy, a dense fog clouding his thoughts and erasing his memories, one by one, as they slipped into the unreachable corners of his mind. He fought desperately to stay conscious, clinging to the faint hope that this was nothing more than a terrible dream—a nightmare he might eventually wake from. But the fight was slipping from his grasp. His body was too weak, his strength utterly spent. The darkness pressed in, heavy and unrelenting, until he couldn't hold on any longer. With a final, defeated breath, he surrendered to the pitch-black void—a hollow, empty space that led to… nothing.

Again? Going into a dissection—vivisection story? Sure, why not! It's not that he'd already suffered enough…

I was drawing/painting Danny, when a visional image popped up in my head—my mind—my thoughts. I saw an artist's drawing of Danny some time ago, or no… even more drawings that Danny would have a scar from the famous ghost portal accident.

Not that this scar of this story is caused by that accident. No.

So here we are, yet again with a new story, just because of that!