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The air was brisk. Everything seemed still. Similar to a grayscale movie scene which had been paused. The only indication of the flow of time were the snowflakes gently falling down. Swimming silently across the waves of the cold winter breeze.
Oh how it would be nice to stop time. Everything was silent. Peaceful. Safe.
The snow creaked under the boy's feet when he stopped. He didn't want to go home. Tiredness had fell over him like a blanket weighting him down and obscuring his field of view. He wanted it to stop. For everything to stop.
For most of his life things had felt slow. Especially after he had gained his powers from an experiment that nearly claimed his own life. He might have been foolish and ill-equipped at the time, not thinking about the possible consequences. The possible risks. His bright mind had impressed the adults around him (unlike now- he noted dryly), he was incredibly gifted in science after all but he had still been a child then. Still technically was-
After getting his new powers time had slowed significantly. Being a speedster after all made even rocket ships launching into the sky seem unnecessarily slow albeit not less cool. He was a science man after all. He could easily name the chemical formula of every metal and alloy used in the outer-shells of those ships. Not to mention the compounds they used in the fuels. He had to admit that the whole project of sending a rocket to space was a very long project but that was despite the point.
For once he was grateful things seemed slow. Despite this, lately every single thing around him seemed to have sped up. Which frankly, had seemed like an impossible feat once upon a time. Even the most mundane events went too fast;The time with his team on uneventful intel gathering missions. Even time that was spent sitting through long school hours.
Everything had started to move too fast.
Oh how he had started looking forward to even the most boring of lessons. He would even take the wretched Mr.Allison's History classes for a whole week than go home. Anything would be better at this point. Anything but being at home. Alas time went fast- too fast, even for a speedster.
School had ended and here he was once again. Walking. Treading the moment the house he called home would appear in his vision. He would take all the time he absolutely could. Thus here he was, walking alone in this silent tranquil. Moments like these were rare between endless missions beating up bad guys and having to survive day after day. Gosh, he felt like the bone seeping fatigue he so often felt had become part of his overall being at this point.
Wally inhaled the fresh cold air. The briskness feeling rather raw against his throat. Not that he really minded. If he could he would just stay here. Frozen like the snow around him. Frozen in time. Never moving.
His body was aching to go lay on the powdery snow. It was looking soft and welcoming unlike the treatment he most often received at home. The cold could do wonders to numb his beaten body. His beaten soul.
Truth to be told he was way past his limit. Anger flared inside his chest but the flame never settled only to die out quickly. He had no energy. Bitter thoughts floated through the endless voids of hurt and anguish moving effortlessly using said feelings like fuel to push forward. There was plenty to go by after all.
He hated this. He hated having to go through this every single day. He was tired of the trench of alcohol on his fathers lips and having to see the lingering fear in his own eyes after things had settled back into a tense calmness. Having to stay up at night fearing for his life. Having to always be the bigger person to people who were supposed to keep him safe and loved. He was supposed to still be a kid damn it!
A bitter laugh escaped him. A sound that was void of any warmth. Almost like a broken caw from a crow knowing there was no way out of the cage and succumbing to its fate. Wally had to admit felt like that too at the moment. So much from staying positive.
Why was living so exhausting exactly? Why did the world hate him? Why did his parents hate him? Tears prickled at his eyes. He was too tired to wipe them away and thus let them freely fall.
He hated his father. He hated how alcohol had taken a hold of the man like a hostage leaving only a hollow shell behind which was everything Wally loathed. He hated the slur in his voice. The yelling. The hits. He utterly hated it. It absolutely disgusted him.
He hated the harsh words of her mother. The way she joined his father to taste the fruit of alcohol. He hated how she never took the hint nor care to save him from all of this hurt. How she stayed in the background avoiding the obvious- how she had excluded herself from the role of the parent. She had sided with the drunken man after all. Sharp words and a dull stare was all she had for him. Not that his dad did any better.
And worst of all? After all of this hurt, all of the lies and cover ups - he still cared, he still loved his parents. How could he not? There were still sweet moments that he could remember where they were still a family. A real one. A happy one. It’s funny isn’t it? After all of this hurt you still keep hoping for the good. Thinking all of this is temporary. That they will change with time. That they would apologize. You just need to have patience right?
He was exhausted of being patient. Way past his limit. He wanted it to end. The hurt. The pain. The everything in between. He wishes he could just float away like the snowflakes around him never to be seen again. But life wasn't fair now was it? It never seemed to be. At least not for him.
He stilled his shaking hands. His feet rooted to one spot. His eyes looking towards the cloudy sky. The soft light of the streetlights shading him in a amber glow. The redhead relished the soft welcoming light. It felt almost comforting. Safe. If he closed his eyes he could almost image drifting away. Floating towards the soft glow until being totally washed over by it like a safety net or a warm hug. What did a safe embrace feel like again?
He wiped at his eyes and continued walking. On his left he saw Christmas lights on one of the neighborhood houses roofsils emitting the same glow as the street lamps. The lower kelvin spectrum number made it so the lights seemed particularly soft and yellowish to the eye. Nothing like the cooler toned lights they had at Mt. Justice. He had to admit he preferred the copper hued ones to the whiter ones. He couldn’t explain exactly but they reminded him the most of the idea of home. A real one. Full of people you love and care for. A home where you didn’t have to fear.
That’s what a home was like in the movies right?
Everything felt silent for a moment and Wally could feel a pressure build behind his eyes. So much for being a man apparently. Why did thoughts of a comforting home always invite tears into his eyes?
Was he somehow broken? Crying so easily over such small things-
His father had always said he shouldn’t cry. Not when he had fallen on the pavement and scraped his knee. Not even when grandma had died. And definitely not when he was cradling his broken arm against his chest begging for his own father to stop the beating on his already battered body.
His father was right. Crying would only make the beatings worse. The punches got harder. The yelling more raw and rough. Almost like it was hurting his father more than Wally when he let the tears fall while his dads knuckles and knees came into contact with areas that were already bruised and tender. Not that he could even try to always hold the weeps back.
Water mixed with snow. He sure wasn’t a man now. But he wasn’t even supposed to be one yet. He was just a boy still. Barely 16, a mere teenager. And crying or not wouldn’t change someone's age nor prove one’s weakness. That's what he had learned time and time again, especially on missions. He had seen grown men cry and lose their minds. And he had seen kids even younger than him not even pat an eye in the face of danger. It wasn’t a simple X is Y equation. It ran deeper. Human character and spirit had layers after all he mused.
Despite knowing, having proof and learning habits were hard to break. His parent’s words had burned themselves deep into his flesh and some days it was hard to break free of their hold. Like now. He knew crying didn’t mean he was less or weaker than others. But his fathers words still haunted his mind.
Wally couldn’t but feel weak despite it all. He was a superhero after all for Heaven’s sake! He had gone face to face with the worst of the worst and come through it victorious. And now standing on a empty road without even an enemy to fight he felt more helpless than against any foe he had ever fought. Part of him wished he had a enemy who he could fight. A sole enemy who he could clearly see as evil enough to just punch first and ask questions later. But to throw punches at someone who was your own flesh and blood? Who you were supposed to trust and love? That was more complicated.
The boy sighed clenching his hands into fists. He certainly had enough anger to put up a fight against his own parents. But to actually go through with it? That was a totally different ordeal.
Not that he hadn't dreamed of it. His thoughts often wandered to corners of his mind he would rather not knowledge he had. Dark, angry and bitter parts which wanted to make people pay and make them feel the hurt he had felt. To punch the loving daylights out of his own father. To land hits after hits till the man was bleeding and begging. To yell and threaten and shake his mother till she apologized and cried like she deserved.
Wally shook his head. It wasn’t who he wanted to be. It wasn’t who he was right? Violence had a tendency to breed more violence after all. And all the boy wanted was it to stop. He wanted, no. - needed to be kind and peaceful. Wanted to be happy. To feel safe and loved. Was that too much to ask?
He didn’t want to turn into his dad-
He had learned that anger and violence came easy, to some like second nature. Kindness? That needed effort and time. But most of all it needed courage and strength. How does one love when all they have known is pain? How does one not succumb to the easy way out like inflicting pain when all they have know is suffering? Only violence and hurt?
He wasn’t entirely sure. And that scared him.
A deflected but wet sigh escaped him once again as he wiped at his eyes. It sounded too loud against the empty space of snowfall and self-reflection. If he was silent enough he was as good as not there right ? Just observing, not entirely there. Maybe even never existing.
Death had been swirling in his mind for years now. He wasn’t particularly ashamed to admit it. He wouldn’t do it by his own hands at least, he had decided. He couldn’t let his fathers words get the best of him no matter how his mind sometimes yearned to. He didn’t want to burden his friends with the grief. And frankly he wasn’t going to let them be short one team member. Strength came in packs after all didn’t it?
Even if his existence was a burden he could at least make sure to take the hits for his friends on missions. Shield them from the world of hurt and suffering. He owed them after all. He had pretty much been trained for it - courtesy of his father. What was one more bruise or broken bone? At least then he had truthful excuses on why he was bruised and battered again. A reason to keep on surviving day after day- A reason to stay. Not that any of it would hurt any less.
He desperately hoped someone would notice…
The thoughts of just not existing or just simply ceasing to exist didn’t sound all that bad either. All of his worries and fears. All of his mistakes. Just simply gone. Having never even been there to begin with. All of this festering hurt released into the continuum of energy. Wouldn’t that be dream?
Some people would say he was being selfish. There was so much to live for after all. Or was that just naive and childish thinking? Was it the privileged thinking of people who had never gone through anything worse than failing a test once or twice? Wally wasn’t sure. Guilt and shame weren’t strangers to him so why not add some more? The weight had already crushed the back of the camel so any more weight wouldn’t hurt now would it?
A snort escaped the redhead. Things couldn’t get worse than this. He was already at an all time low. Throw him anything and he wouldn’t even pat an eye.
The cold wind blew against his freckled cheeks unkindly. Maybe that was one of the problems. All of the hardships and abuse had embraced him in a cloak of passiveness. Everything felt like surviving. There was nothing to live for because he wasn’t exactly living was he? He was more so just existing. His mind and body fighting just to keep going.
Wally heard once, from his English teacher if he remembered correctly, that you should, once in a while stop and smell the flowers. But how can one do that if they can't even catch a break? That even carrying on or the mere act of walking is a struggle? You can’t stop and smell flowers if merely the act of staying on said road takes all you got. More so all of the flowers had long died from where the boy now stood.
You can’t smell the flowers if the soil is barren and dried up after all. Only desert and rock as far as the eye can see. No plant could survive there. And even if they could it wasn’t like he could have the chance to look around him. It felt like he was frozen in place. Being pushed head first to the ground not able to move. Paralyzed. A shadow looming behind him that reminded him too much of his old man than he dared to admit.
The redhead shook his head. How could he even dream to admit it?
"Hey by the way my father sometimes is quite rough with me? Nothing bad just a few kicks and insults here, a few punches there? I guess you could say thats physical abu-"
He stopped the train of thought. It was abuse wasn’t it? Of course it was- the boy felt foolish to even question it. But then again how could he not? This was the first time he had admitted even to himself so freely that what his parents did was definitely, without a doubt abuse.
He had always known it deep down but to admit it? That had been too much. Too world shattering - To finally accept that there was no going back. No happy family. No amount of apologies to make it right again. No more excuses. Only blatant truth.
His parents were abusing him.
What they did was wrong. And Wally realized that maybe it wasn’t all his fault. He couldn’t after all continue making up excuse after excuse to his parents poor behavior. He didn’t have the threshold to hold more guilt and blame inside as he already previously had. The cup had already been overflowed.
A half clipped laugh which sounded more like a shuddering breath escaped the boy as tears gleamed at the edges of his eyes. He really was being abused.
Of course he didn’t deserve any of this. And maybe that's what made it hurt the most. He didn’t deserve the abuse. No one did.
That’s what he had heard at least-
His chest constricted painfully as the breaths he took quickened. A car drove past him pushing the powdery snow not yet planted to the bank back into the air above but he paid the scene no heed. His ears were ringing. He didn’t even notice the way his arms snaked around himself tightly. He had no space in his mind to care what he must have looked like.
As he took a deep breath it painfully rattled against the silence. Or was it against his still bruised rib cage? His dad had not been careful last night after all. Accelerated healing be damned.
Like waves in the ocean he felt like he was pushed and pulled. The tides of emotions giving no mercy. This time he let them engulf him whole. It had been a while since he had felt something. Flowers of hate, despair, grief and relief bloomed inside him. Rooting themselves into his very bones. His whole body seemed to shook from the intensity.
He was being abused.
It wasn’t his fault.
It never had been.