Phantom in Cell 47

*3

A/n: I AM BACK, YOU BEAUTIFUL PIECES OF STARDUST! I have a plot(i think) that will probably last up to... 3 chapters! Hehe... Not the uh... best or longest chapter, but definitely better than nothing!

Alright, so, right now, I'm feeling very gloomy and I find that thinking of the plot of this book actually is awesome after rereading it. I don't want to leave you guys hanging so I promised that I'll be returning with new chapters, but I don't feel like that anymore. 

I love seeing your comments and I thank you all for supporting me! I hope I get to see more wonderful comments of yours! Again, I thank you all and if you have any ideas, feel free to share! I'll be starting school soon so I won't be able to update often, but I'll update as soon as I could. 

Thank you!

___

Black filled his vision and he could feel nothing but comfort. It wasn't the typical comfort of warmth radiating in all sides, wrapping you in a lovely made blanket near the fireplace. It was the kind of comfort where you would sit beside the open window-sill and fill the room with the coolness of the outside rain and the cold breeze jumping in. 

He liked this comfort. And he wanted to stay in that comfort, stay in that sill. But he knew he couldn't stay in that comfort, so he soaked it all in like some new and dry sponge until there was only a small portion left. That small portion will be like the seed for the tree that will grow during his absence. So the next time he will come back to this comfort, the tree will be big and fully grown, ready to give him all the comfort he desired. 

___

Metal doors creaked as they opened, sending tell-tale signs of a new experiment, a new test. Another torture. Boots hit the floor, making an echo in the almost empty blood-splattered room. Boy was shivering in the corner of the room, trying to make himself as invisible as he possibly could, but of course, he couldn't be invisible. Being invisible most of his life and being a literal ghost, that would have been ironic. 

"DaNny?" 

His head shot up. No one has ever called him that name in such a long time, he almost forgot it was his. Danny. Danny. That was his name. But... it wasn't. It wasn't his name, he knew his name and he knew what it felt like, but that wasn't his name. 

His name is meant to be comforting. His name is meant to be that cocoa he made for himself so he could do his work near the windowsill when it's raining. His name was meant to be the candy he bought earlier so he could have something to chew on while outside was storming and all he could do was write fantasies about where lightning might come from. Danny was not any of those things. 

Danny was the gum he didn't know about until he felt something pierce inside his worn show. Danny was the blazing sun in September when it's supposed to be cold and he is sizzling outside in the street like human barbecue. Danny is the name of the boy who tragically died with the rest of his family, leaving nothing but scraped metal and the smell of leather being burnt. 

Boy turned around to see who dared call him the dead boy who was nothing but a minor character in everyone's story. Standing in the doorway is a woman, a woman who he is supposed to recognize, but can't seem to, and the more he tries to pull the memory of the identification of this woman, the more his head thumped against his skull, telling him to stop. 

She had orange hair, falling down like a waterfall and ending at the small of her back. Her face was blurred (why was it blurred?) and only her pink lips could be seen, smiling at him. "DanNY, what are you doing here?" 

What was he doing here? What was he doing here? 

Boy's face morphed into annoyance and grabbed the magazine that was beside him and covered his face. (when did it get there?)

"Didn't I tell you to knock?" 

No reply. 

Boy put the magazine down and looked at the doorway. But he was met with a purple door, closed. He looked around and recognized the place he was in, but he couldn't find a name. Everything was a mix of green, all shades of green colliding into each other but never really mixing. Pieces of landform floated just everywhere, like some broken puzzle that wasn't meant to be fixed. It was glorious and quite calming. 

Boy turned his attention again at the door and he slowly reached for the knob. He turned it, and his hand was immediately engulfed in dark liquid, going from his arm to his should to his neck. He wanted to scream, cry for help, but nothing came from his mouth, only gurgled cries. 

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe, but he couldn't. He reached out to grab anything before he drowns. But all he could touch was something hard, something solid, something that is preventing him from freeing himself. 

He opened his eyes again and saw a circular lid, trapping himself in a green goo-like substance. He turned around, desperate to know where he is and who could help him before he loses his lungs. His being shook with fear as he was met with an agent. A GIW agent. 

He had a button in his hand and his thumb was inches away from pressing it. Please, don't. He begged internally, but of course, even if he could say those words, they wouldn't listen. They never do. They hear him and do it anyway thrice fold. 

The agent grinned at Danny, like the sick fear-absorbant sadist he was. "See you next time, Ghost Boy." 

Bolts of electricity amped through his body, rattling his bones and frying his flesh. Boy screamed like a witch burning on a stake. It hurt his entire being and Boy could do nothing to stop it. But at the same time, he felt nothing. It was as if, he was seeing the pain and felt the pain that he saw. It was as if he wasn't there. 

Correct. 

___

Boy woke up in a cold sweat, grasping anything he could hold onto, and the warm sheets were the first thing he could hold. He looked around, frantic, trying to see the familiar green or the cell door, or the stars in his ceiling. But all he saw was an unfamiliar room with the moonlight shining down from the windows behind his bed. 

He didn't know where he went and he did not like it.