Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom. Butch Hartman does.

Extended Summary: Slight AU. After the events of "The Fenton Menace," Danny's parents begin to notice Danny's ghost-fighting injuries. Believing that the wounds are self-inflicted, they seek professional help for their son. Unfortunately, the psychiatrist is corrupt and is working for the Sanitorium Mortifera - a place where the patients are seen as worthless test subjects. After being sent there for the asylum's blood money, Danny finds himself in a place of death and madness, in the midst of human-eating canines, ranks of revengeful ghosts, concealed cannibalism, and the insane Head Surgeon. Danny cannot escape in spite of his powers, for the ghosts have a plan for him - a plan which will bring about a patient uprising and the end of Sanitorium Mortifera.

Author's Note: This is a fanfic I based on a story I wrote. In addition, this is my very first fanfiction, and I'd love some feedback and/or suggestions. Please read and review!

Preface

In a dilapidated room on the top floor, a young boy – no more than fifteen, perhaps, or sixteen – sat seemingly-alone in nearly-pitch darkness, save for the weak light seeping through the cracks in the roof above his head. His body was bound in the decrepit tatters of what was once a proper straitjacket, and the restraint's time-worn remains did their job perfectly fine.

In the corner sat a man, unseen by all except the boy. He was not concealed by the enveloping shadows; in fact, he was a part of them. He moved as one, fading and receeding as they did, moving within the blink of an eye, and scarcely did the man leave those dark recesses of the institution. For that, the boy was grateful.

The boy was not fightened by the man; he understood what the man was, and felt no fear, for the boy had seen others like him. It was the man's appearance which sickened the boy. Even though the man's form was vague within the blackness of the room, the boy could see well enough to know that the man had only half a face. The other half of the man's visage had festered away, as did much of the man's other visible flesh. The man's forehead looked as if an axe had been hacked across it; however, unsucessfully at first, for there were other marks like it. From the skeletal side of the man's face, it was obvious that whatever instrument used to create the marks had penetrated the skull, slicing (or, rather, chopping) off the cap of the skull. The others, to the boy's disgust, were typically much like the man in appearance. . . Some were better, even slightly. . . And some were much, much worse. . .

The man caught the boy staring and said in a rough, somehow ashy voice, "Labotomy."

The boy blanched.

"I'm surprised that you can see me," the man remarked after what seemed hours of silence.

"That's because you and I aren't that different," the boy replied. His voice cracked as he spoke – he hadn't spoken in what seemed like ages. No, we're not that different, he thought. Maybe we're practically the same. . . How would I know? Maybe I'm dead now, too, and I just don't know it yet. . . Maybe. . .

"What color are my eyes?" the boy asked suddenly.

". . . Blue," the man responded after a minute or so.

"Then I'm still. . alive."

But only half. . .

Author's Notes: Well, here it is: the preface of my first fanfiction ever. Please review! Feedback - both negative and positive - is appreciated, but thoughtless flamers will be promptly sent to the head surgeon. What did you think? Hungry for more, or is this fanfic for the flesh-eating dogs? ;)