One week ago
"Was I running too slow, Mom?"
"No, you were not running too slow. You are kind, Barry, and kindness matters more than speed."
Barry Allen found himself reliving the same dream again. His mother stood before him, just as she had when he was young, her hand resting gently against his cheek. Her voice was warm, steady, and comforting in a way that nothing in his waking life could match.
"But those people wanted to bully my classmate. I tried to stop them. Maybe if I had been faster, they would not have hit me."
In the dream, he was only a child, his voice carrying a quiet frustration that had never really faded.
"Barry, if you care too much about speed, you will lose something important."
His mother smiled softly and brushed his hair aside. "I am not proud of how fast you can run. I am proud because you have something others do not. Your kindness is the most valuable thing you have."
Before she could finish, the door to the house opened.
Both of them turned. His father stepped inside, still dressed from work, his bag slung over his shoulder.
"Hello, I am home."
"Barry got into a fight," his mother said with a faint smile.
"Really?" his father asked, surprised.
"He won."
She hid the truth with ease, choosing a gentler version of events.
"Good job, little champion."
His father walked over, ruffling Barry's hair with a grin. "But no more fighting, alright?"
The moment lingered, warm and complete.
Then it shattered.
Barry jolted upright in bed, his chest rising sharply as he woke. Sweat clung to his forehead. He wiped it away, breathing out slowly, trying to steady himself.
Just a dream.
It had to be.
Yet something felt wrong.
Barry glanced down at his hands and froze.
They were small. Too small.
Not the hands of an adult, but those of a child, no older than seven or eight.
Confusion spread through him. He looked around the room, taking in every detail. The furniture, the layout, even the faint scratches on the walls, everything matched his childhood home.
His gaze shifted to the fish tank.
The water inside was moving upward.
Not splashing, not disturbed, but flowing against gravity as if pulled by an invisible force. The fish darted frantically, their movements sharp and panicked as they struggled within the unnatural current.
A strange sound echoed from downstairs. It was faint, like something slicing through the air at incredible speed.
Then came his mother's voice.
A cry for help.
Barry moved without thinking. He rushed out of the room and down the stairs, his footsteps heavy against the wood.
Halfway down, a violent gust of wind slammed into him.
He grabbed the railing to steady himself, his body swaying under the force. The air twisted and surged through the living room below, sending papers flying and furniture shifting out of place.
In the center of it all stood his mother.
Two streaks of light circled her.
One red. One yellow.
They moved too fast to follow, their paths weaving and colliding in a blur that created a vortex of wind. The pressure in the room built with each pass, trapping her in place.
"Mom!"
Barry's voice cracked as he called out to her.
"Do not come closer!"
She struggled to stand, her voice strained but urgent. "Get out of here. Find your dad."
The space between them felt impossible to cross. The speed of those lights created an invisible barrier, a wall of force that pushed him back.
Barry reached out anyway, desperation overriding fear.
"I have to help you!"
Before he could move further, strong arms pulled him back.
His father.
He had appeared without Barry noticing, his grip firm as he held him in place. His eyes were locked on his wife, filled with panic.
"Nora, hold on!"
He searched the room frantically, as if there was something he could do, something he could find to stop what was happening.
"It is too late!" Nora shouted, her voice breaking through the chaos. "Barry, run!"
The words echoed, cutting through everything.
Even knowing this was a dream, the pain did not lessen.
Barry had lived this moment countless times. It never changed. It never softened.
This was the night he lost his mother.
The night his father was taken away, accused of her murder.
The night his world collapsed.
That was why it kept coming back.
That was why he could never escape it.
Alone in the darkness of his own mind, Barry could only endure it again.
And then, faintly, something else reached him.
A familiar melody.
"I wanna hold the..."
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