ColdFlash

Sociopathic Eyes

Barry's POV

Barry slithered into the bar, leather clothed men lingered around the room, huddled in groups laughing and yelling. Barry was in the most uncomfortable situation he could imagine...surrounded by hefty criminals and not even slightly close to alone. Barry liked being alone because when he was by himself, no one could judge him. Everything inside him that bottled up, everything people would think was wrong, could be left alone.

Barry wandered along the bar, unsure exactly what he should do. He started scanning the room, hoping to see someone...like him?

He started scanning the room, hoping to see someone...like him? It felt cold, as if the thinned air had turned into raw ice. He watched his steps, following the worn floorboards that had turned blackish form the trodden snow. He looked around at the people to see a black figure sitting in the corner. He wore a large jacket that covered his whole body like a blanket, enveloped by the fur on the hood. Barry could only see his eyes, these brown sociopathic eyes that darted through the ice in the air.

Barry mustered all the courage in his body, more than he had needed for any battle and stepped forward, a strange kind of fear crept through hm. He stopped, biting his lip, the blood dripping over his chin as the crisp air left his mouth. When he looked up, the man was gone.

Barry decided in the end to go home, the fresh air from outside the bar a brief moment of relief from the harsh atmosphere inside. The noise ran through his mind, the silence of an empty road seemingly peaceful.

...

Joe grabbed the collar of Barry's blue newly ironed shirt and pounded his body against the concrete wall of Star Labs.

'YOU KNEW?! Bear you are supposed to be my son and you keep this secret from me? Treating your own father like pure shit! As if I didn't raise you under my own roof?'

Barry's face turned silver, his skin bitter cold, frozen. Joe slammed him back again, thudding his head on the grey wall. Barry thought he should feel something, feel despondent or bitter, but he could only feel the drip of blood running down his neck. Like a drip of water it sunk into his skin and stained his clothes. His face turned ashen as he clutched the back of his head.

He looked to see Caitlin frozen, her eyes wanting to help but her body stuck. Joe stood fuming, his checks red in antagonism. Iris bolted into the room, confused she began yelling at her father...it was about her fiancé...he didn't know.

The blood kept flowing, Barry could feel the warmth down his back, the world still around him...unmoving. The gravity fixed...it felt as if it something should happen, like the sunlight should be beaming onto the floor or rain should be pelting the windows but nothing happened.

Only the blood. The distant warmth of blood. The dripping. It dripped, one by one, fire on his skin.

Barry started walking; he couldn't move his muscles enough to run like before. Caitlin grabbed at his shoulders, blood flowing on to her fingertips but Barry only ignored her.

...

At home, Barry had laid in bath, the cold-water running over his skin, mixing with the blood, the cold and the warmth.
He was numb. A sole feeling remained in his feeble body – heartache. He had no love, not one person; Barry Allen was alone.