A year had gone by in a flash.
Barry, Iris, and Alex finished elementary school smoothly, with Barry, of course, standing at the top of his class.
His parents wore proud smiles when he received the award.
Unfortunately, Alex had to leave—her family’s stay in Central City had always been temporary, tied to her father Jeremiah Danvers’ work.
He and his wife Eliza were both renowned scientists, and Barry had enjoyed spending time around their household, surrounded by that quiet brilliance.
Alex cried the day of their departure—the first time Barry had ever seen her cry.
He did his best to console her and promised to write.
Though he kept his composure, he was reluctant too, while Iris, equally heartbroken, clung to her friend.
The night before leaving, Alex slept over at Iris’s house, and the girls stayed up late, their laughter tinged with sadness.
Lately, Barry had been feeling restless, as if something bad was about to happen.
The uneasy feeling scratched at the back of his mind.
He double-checked his surroundings, thought carefully over his recent actions, but found nothing out of place.
He didn’t let the paranoia change his routine, which remained, as ever, boring.
Tony had been avoiding him—bolting whenever their eyes met.
Barry had noticed the bruises covering him not long after their fight, evidence of the black goon’s fury being taken out on his lackey.
Still, Barry couldn’t bring himself to care, and life went on.
Middle school was the same as Elementary school, a few things did change, a bit more freedom than before.
The courses were still the same, for Barry– piece of cake.
Time passed slowly for Barry and the unease continued to grow.
March 18, 2000
The day came that Barry would never forget.
The day that changed him forever, and set him on the path toward a vast and unknown destiny.
Just four days earlier, it had been his birthday.
His parents had surprised him with a trip to Hawaii, and the memories were still fresh—sunlight, beaches, laughter.
But now, it was night.
The house was quiet, warm, and safe—or so it seemed.
Earlier that day, Barry had won another prize at the science fair.
His auto-tracking car project had been praised unanimously by the judges.
“Another one for the rack.
Way to go, slugger.” Henry’s smile was wide with pride.
“Soon we’re going to run out of space,” Nora teased as she arranged the growing collection of trophies and medals.
Her face shone with pride for her son’s achievements.
“Don’t worry, I’ll build a new rack myself,” Henry said, hugging his wife before ruffling Barry’s hair.
“Come on, Dad.
Who knows if I’ll win another award,” Barry muttered, downplaying it.
He was sitting at his desk, tinkering with small parts in his hand.
“No way.
My son’s a genius,” Henry said, settling beside him on the bed.
“Yes, but intellect isn’t the only thing,” Nora countered gently as she sat next to Barry and touched his chest.
“Remember, Barry—your golden heart.
The goodness in you.
Don’t ever lose that.”
“I know, Mom.” Barry nodded, but his voice lacked its usual ease.
The unease inside him had been growing stronger, clawing at him for days.
Without realizing, his hand gripped his mother’s tightly.
She noticed the tension.
“What’s wrong, Barry?
Scared?” she asked softly.
He hesitated.
“Nothing… just a little restless.”
“It’s okay.
You must be tired.
Get some good rest,” Nora said, pressing a gentle kiss against his temple.
But Barry didn’t let go of her hand.
His fingers clung with unusual desperation, as if letting go would mean losing something important.
“Sleep, sweetheart.
I’ll stay right here beside you,” Nora whispered, her eyes full of maternal warmth.
For the first time, she saw real vulnerability in her son—the boy who usually faced the world with confidence now looked like he was wrestling with something unseen.
Her hand stroked his hair, the rhythm soothing, and finally his eyelids grew heavy.
He hadn’t been sleeping well for over a week—plagued by dreams that were growing sharper, more vivid, as though something was trying to awaken inside him.
And with them came a sensation he had never known before, one that burrowed deep into his chest.
Fear.
A primal fear, cold and heavy, rooting itself in his heart.
“Sweet dreams, my beautiful boy,” Nora whispered, kissing his forehead again.
“Night, slugger,” Henry said softly, giving his son’s head a fond rub before he and Nora quietly slipped out, turning off the light.
The night was unnervingly still.
Even in half-sleep, Barry’s mind stirred restlessly, the unease that had been gnawing at him for weeks scratching at the back of his thoughts.
Then it came—a crack of thunder without lightning.
His room lit up in violent flashes, streaks of red and gold racing across the walls.
Barry’s sharp eyes widened, his pulse quickening—not with childish panic, but with the instinctive recognition that something unnatural was happening.
He pushed out of bed and crept to the hallway, bare feet padding softly against the wood he held a knife which he always carried.
From the top of the stairs, he saw his mother.
Nora stood frozen in the living room, her gaze locked on the impossible spectacle unfolding before her—two streaks of lightning tearing through the air, colliding, circling, faster than the eye could follow.
The walls shook, papers flew like leaves caught in a hurricane.
Nora was surrounded by Violet-gold and red lightning.
“BARRY!” Nora’s voice cut through the chaos, raw fear behind it.
“NORA!” Henry’s voice was hoarse, desperate.
He was trying to get to her, but the lightning wrapped around Nora like a cage.
Barry bolted down the stairs, but Henry pulled him back, shielding him with his body.
“Barry, stay back!” Henry roared, holding him tight.
Through the storm of blinding light, Barry saw them—two figures, clearer than before.
One in yellow with glowing red eyes, and another in crimson red who felt strangely familiar.
It was momentary, but enough.
His instincts screamed: he was the target.
Barry’s hand moved before thought could catch up.
He threw the knife with reflexive speed.
The blade embedded itself in the wall.
He thought he had missed, so he reached for another—stepping forward, heart hammering, ready to fight.
“NO—Barry, RUN!” Henry’s voice cracked, torn between command and plea.
But before Barry could act again, a wall of red and Violet-gold lightning wrapped around him.
Then suddenly he felt a force lifting him off the ground.
For a split second, he was weightless, the world nothing but blurred streaks of light—then he was set down gently on the cold pavement, streets away from home.
“No—Mom!” His voice broke as he realized where he was.
A few blocks away.
Alone.
Confused.
Terrified.
He didn’t question how—he only ran.
He sprinted faster than he ever had, adrenaline burning through his veins, dread pulling him like gravity.
The night air sliced into his lungs, every stride powered by raw desperation.
In less than five minutes, he burst through the front door.
And saw the nightmare.
Henry was kneeling on the floor, hands covered in blood, clutching the knife that had been driven into Nora’s chest.
Her blouse was soaked in scarlet.
Her breaths came in shallow gasps, eyes wide in disbelief, body trembling weakly.
Barry froze.
His sharp mind, usually so quick, so alive, went utterly blank.
He could see everything—the faint vibration in the air, the acrid tang of ozone, the blood pooling against the floorboards—but none of it mattered.
His entire world collapsed into the sight of his mother fading away.
Henry’s cries shook the walls.
“Nora!
Stay with me, please—stay with me!” His hands tried desperately to stop the bleeding, but the knife had already done its damage.
Barry’s throat burned.
He tried to scream, but no sound came.
He stood there, helpless, eyes bloodshot, his mind in overdrive—recording every second in excruciating clarity.
His body refused to move.
His heart felt like it was shattering with every one of Nora’s faltering breaths.
Then the sirens came.
Red and blue lights flooded the street, officers storming in, shouting, confusion.
Strong hands yanked Henry back, accusations flying.
But Barry barely heard them.
None of them had seen the lightning, none had seen the monsters of speed that tore through his home.
All they saw was Henry Allen, hands stained with blood.
That night carved itself into Barry’s very bones.
The blur of lightning.
His mother’s final gasp.
His father’s broken cry.
And then it hit him.
The dam burst.
His voice tore from his chest, raw, primal, echoing through the house.
“MOOOOOOOMMMM!”
Barry scrambled, clawing toward her, howling so loud it startled everyone.
His young body convulsed under the weight of his grief—then everything went black.
The last thing he heard before darkness swallowed him whole was his father’s desperate voice.
“Barry—Barry!”
And then nothing.
A void, merciful and cruel, swallowed him whole.
In a familiar yet haunting void, Barry floated, untethered.
The abyss around him was endless—black as pitch, stretching infinitely in every direction.
Shadows twisted and shifted, as if the darkness itself were alive, pressing against him in waves.
No light, no sound, no warmth—only the oppressive void and the echo of his own panicked heartbeat.
He opened his eyes and shouted,
“MOM!”
Nothing.
“DAD!”
The void swallowed the sound.
“ANYBODY THERE?”
Silence stretched infinitely.
His voice cracked, his throat raw, until no sound emerged at all.
Still, the darkness remained, unyielding and vast.
The emptiness seemed almost tactile, like a heavy fog that pressed on his chest and made each movement feel sluggish.
Time itself seemed to stretch, each second dragging into eternity.
His mind raced, trying to make sense of this place.
Somehow, this void felt familiar—eerily like the vivid, troubling dreams that had haunted him for weeks.
A place connected to him, to his deepest fears.
Then, without warning, a blinding light tore through the darkness.
It seared his vision, burned through his soul, and yet carried a strange warmth.
Something deep within him shifted.
Pain and emptiness dissolved, replaced by a sense of wholeness.
A part of him that had been missing—something vital—returned.
Memories flooded in, sharper and more vivid than he had ever experienced.
The sensation was overwhelming, his head pounding as if it might split apart under the force.
Then finally, his body gave in.
He collapsed, slipping into unconsciousness, but the darkness no longer felt empty.
Somewhere deep within, a spark had been ignited—a seed of understanding, a flicker of power, and the first whisper of the destiny that awaited him.
Central City Hospital.
In one of the rooms, a young boy with golden hair and a pale face lay with monitors attached.
Sitting beside him was a familiar face to Barry—Joe West, the middle-aged cop.
The doctors had explained that Barry had passed out from sheer shock.
Hours had passed, yet there was still no sign of him waking.
Suddenly, Barry opened his eyes.
“Mom!” he shouted, startling Joe.
“Barry, thank God you’re okay…” Joe rushed to his side, patting him gently on the back.
“Somebody call the doctor!” he shouted to a passing nurse.
He had been growing nervous, seeing Barry unresponsive.
He expected crying or disbelief, but Barry’s silence was eerie.
“Hey, hey, you’re going to be fine,” Joe tried again, his voice gentle but urgent.
Barry’s eyes suddenly locked onto Joe’s, and for a split second, Joe felt something unnerving in those blue, gem-like eyes—a flash of intensity that could have been mistaken for killing intent.
But all he saw was deep, raw sadness.
“What happened to them?” Barry’s voice was hoarse.
“Your father is at the police station in custody.
As for your mother…” Joe trailed off.
The silence said it all.
Barry closed his eyes a drop of tear trickled from his eyes he knew his kind and caring mother has left him yet there is nothing he could do.
His hand clenched into fist his knuckles turning white from the sheer force, nails digging into his palms yet he could not feel pain , because his heart seethed in pain that overshadowed any other sensation..
“What about dad?
Why is he in custody” Barry asked his hoarse voice seemed scary to Joe
“Barry I think we should talk after you get better” Joe avoided any further condition.
“Where.
Is.
My.
Dad.” Barry iterated every word, his voice was full of suppressed anger, his sudden movement yanked the IV line causing blood to seep out
“Okay okay calm down son, at least let the doctor look at you first” Joe held his clenched hand he saw a blood from his hands
The doctor came began to check, and the nurse patched up his wounds Barry patiently waited for Joe to tell him but he knew his patience was running thin, he wanted to confirm something
As it turned out his father was convicted for his mother’s murder, the knife that was used to stab him had his fingerprints.
Also witnesses claim he was holding the knife, he has been arrested for further questioning as all the current evidence pointed towards him.
“My dad was trying to stabilize the wound, He is not THE KILLER” Barry shouted his hoarse voice already hoarse
“Hey calm down, I know you are trying to protect him…” Joe thought he was trying to protect him but barry cut him off
“I want to see my Dad now” Barry demanded he knew whatever he would say Joe would not believe in
“Not now, you should get some rest” Joe took his leave, Barry eyes followed him, before lying down he closed his eyes but all he could see was details every little detail, he was involuntary recall all the details.
For now he repressed those scenes he had to understand something else, he remembered now everything happened in that abyssal space.
All the knowledge that he learned he could clearly recall
But the most important thing he now confirmed something, he is on Earth different from what he remembered.
All the events were corresponding to one of the fictions he saw in his ‘previous life’ also read about in that space.
I Became The Flash Barry thought still shocked by this realization, but he feels more angered by the fact his memories did not awaken early
If only I had awakened my memories early, I could have changed it but still somethings are different Barry began to analyse everything, the memory was painful but he would not allow Henry to stay in Jail, even though he awakened his memories but his feelings did not change.
He was in thought for a long time, hours passed by when he opened his eyes the previous sadness and anger was replaced by something different.
A Determination and a sense of mission could be seen in those Crystal blue eyes.
“Excuse me Nurse could I borrow your phone” Barry called a nurse passing by, He wanted to make a call
The nurse gave her the phone he dialed a number from his memory, a fleeting encounter yet useful for now
“Hello, Mrs.
Loring?
Yes, this is Barry Allen—the same boy who met you that day.
I could really use your help.
I’m at Central City Hospital, Bed 15.
I’ll explain in person.
Thank you.”
He ended the call, thanked the nurse, and closed his eyes, allowing himself a brief moment of rest before the work ahead.