3)Trials of an Orphan

An orphan, a child abandoned by his/her own parents. It was pitiful, but unfortunately, it wasn't an event that flowed against the constantly changing world. It's effects weren't cataclysmic by any means. The grains of time continued to drop, kingdoms and nations proceeded to fall, insurgencies, civil wars, revolutions plagued the world- Earth was a mess. A baby being thrown out wouldn't go against any of the events that occur in this forsaken world. Not in this one at least.

The best parts of school- the loud noises that accompanied the lonely, the trembling silence that echoed in one's head. The vibrations continued to get louder until solitude was a dream. Gossiping was fun. Futile, but fun. Although that heavily depended upon perspective, which brings me to my next point.

Being real is ostracized. Of course, until it was needed. Popularity took precedence over being pure and honest. Was it the twisted nature of humanity? Was it the twin snakes coiling around our hearts, wavering every choice that we make? Were the ramifications of being ones self forced solitude? If so….why?

The nods of respect and recognition. The stares of disdain and contempt. The gestures of friendship and love. The ignorance spreading like wildfire, from person to person. Everyone avoided him. Well….it wasn't as if he could do anything about it.

Barry Allen. Not the fastest man to ever exist, not a genius scientist, none of that. He was a student at a school, diagnosed with a rather mysterious condition that impacted his memory. Unfortunately, as previously discussed, the mind was a complex system to understand.

The scratching of chalk on the blackboard didn't prompt any look or expression on his face. After all, Barry wore an everlasting expression of confusion mixed with ignorance. He saw the world in gray and red. Every single thing in his vision was made up of either one of the colors.

The teachers, students, no one there really expected him to do anything great. He had a disease that disabled him to learn or grasp anything. The majority of his senses were useless. Unfortunately, he could feel.

Words uttered, his innocent and fragile heart annexed and conquered by those with a mental war of their own. It was miserable but that's how it worked. Your insecurities projected on another, arrows of judgment and remarks showered upon the weak and the timid.

'It itches all over…..but why?'

The burning sensation slowly climbing up his arms and through the sleeves, his skin felt like it was rubbed against sandpaper. Every comment made was registered and instantly deleted, that was just how his mind functioned. Like letters put together, the lost words slowly formed a shell inside him.

A shell with nothing inside, one that was made up of the harshness of reality, and the hardships of the challenged. It was too late for him, what was done couldn't be reversed, the void in him had begun to take form, sure, memories were lost, but the feelings constantly surfaced.

"How are you still alive?"

The friendly gestures of today's generations only got kinder, his first step into the building and his existence was questioned. His adversities, ridiculed, his weakness, teased, it wasn't pleasant.

'Good morning to you too….' He desperately wanted to reply, but he couldn't. His head was straight and his lips were sealed shut, the thought of returning the gesture, disappeared the second it formed. Barry's confused expression soon took over and he continued walking straight, ignoring whatever was said.

"Did you eat it?" Another one questioned, wondering what happened to the pigeon's corpse he once held. It was terrible timing, but Barry found himself looking at a helpless little creature.

It was a feeling he found nostalgic, one of the two colors he made sense of, and related to. Red, a dark crimson red. Blood smeared all over his fingers and cheeks, a panic-stricken smile on his face, it wasn't fair, but that was all he knew.

You see, to Barry, someone who couldn't perceive a major part of reality, anything he recognized brought joy to him, anything that wasn't just plain old gray. He remembered the pain, it was the only constant in his life, the only thing that dropped a sense of normalcy into his sadistic haven.

He held the bird's corpse, a pure transparent crystal rolled down his cheek, the buried touch of his mother echoing through his mind, desperately crashing into the gates that withheld it from surfacing. His pure white cheeks had a hint of rose, his hair seasoned by the snow, the blood on the surface highlighted by the winter.

Barry walked through the empty corridors, his echoing footsteps synchronizing with the random loud thuds in his head. Visions of who he was, what he lived for, what he went through, the things he felt, slowly broke through.

With it came a certain memory that no child should have to go through, it was the root cause of his strange perception. The red in his world, symbolized something, it meant everything to him, but it was painful.

There was a roof above him, it was ash in color with strands of red splattered all over, it was a new color, a unique feeling for someone who lived his life thus far with a monochromatic vision. The walls that confined him, were painted beautifully, abstract art if you may, his emotionless self now expressed a smile, such was the result of a novelty.

"What's….with…the sound.." His pace increased as his hands held his head and his vision grew blurrier. All the energy in his body was forced into reliving the visions that fought to resurface.

There was a time he felt loved, he felt happy….he felt. He was adopted by a couple that couldn't give birth to any children, and for the first time ever, Barry understood the meaning of being a child. His father's warm hands ruffled his hair, it was weird how he found joy in such things. The prevailing condition of his slowly healed on its own, Barry now knew who his parents were, but just like all the good things, this too had to come to an end. After all, he lived a cursed life.

On his body were the hands of both his parents, their hands stained with blood that had long since dried, their faces with a protective and proud smile, their necks with a scarlet red cut as their skin continued to grow colder and paler.

A robbery gone wrong they said, but no one truly believed that reality was much more evil, the victim, the monstrous adopted child was secretly blamed, after all, the reports do say that they found him with a smile on his face.

"Mom….?" Barry called out as he opened the door to a room, his breathing grew heavier, the sunlight piercing through the window called for him. Staggering with no energy in his body, he cried desperately as his hand reached out to nothingness.

The death of his parents left him with nothing more than another color to his plain life. He crashed onto the chair, the rays of light revealing the wrinkles on his face. He was pretty, with long eyelashes, but dry lips and dim eyes. The banging sounds in his head had finally stopped, he was at peace, his mind and soul no longer felt crushed under the cruelty of reality.

"Barry Allen…." A voice called out, his eyes widened as he looked forward to see his mother, even after death, she wore a smile on her face, one that sheltered him from everything the world threw at him.

"Your future….I'm sure there are going to be many ups and downs but I want you to know, whether you choose to be the wealthiest of men or the sloppiest thug…..Be it at the top or the bottom…" as she continued to speak, he noticed the outline of another being similar to his mother appear beside her figure. With every word that was said, both the bodies slowly moved into each other.

"There will always be a time when you feel alone or lonely. So I ask you, Barry Allen… my pride, and joy…."

They were open, the gates that held back every memory of his were finally open. A stream flowed down his eyes, his eyes that now had a hint of light and hope in them listened to what was being said. His heartbeat slowly reduced as his pink face looked at his mother with love.

"….I ask you…. to choose your lonely"

As soon as the two figures became one, everything he felt and knew exploded into this overwhelming feeling that couldn't be explained. He felt everything and nothing at the same time. Tranquility, he felt calm, the life he knew, was no more, it was sad but for some reason, Barry felt indifferent.

Muffled voices and a warm green light, it was a novel feeling but it felt nice, his body felt light and rather weird, it was as if he could move but at the same time, he couldn't.

"It's a boy…a cute little boy,"