(Trigger Warning: language, depression, suicide attempt, self-harm and smoking.)

Central City, 2006

Barry sat on the bathroom floor with the shower on and his Mp3 player turned to the maximum volume.

He stared hopelessly at the fixtures of the bathroom walls.

A visit to Iron Heights prison had sent the teenager keeling over the edge.

He began hacking at his wrists with a razor blade.

Welts appeared on his arms as it slowly began to bleed and swell.

It got a little manic.

Barry felt like clawing out something inside of him.

How this helped he didn't know.

The guilt had started to weigh on him.

The guilt of him being the reason his dad was in prison.

Being trapped on an endless train to nowheresville while his mother's killer got away.

He made another cut.

Was her killer out there out there now?

Living it up while his family suffered?

A wave of anger shot through him to the point his arms were now completely mutilated.

It hurt.

He knew it would hurt but Barry had been told this pain was suppose to feel good.

That it would make things better.

It didn't.

It just added to the pain.

Barry sniffled and leaned back into the confines of his large black hoodie.

He changed a song.

Iris knocking made him jump 12 feet out of skin.

"Barry? Hurry up, you've been in there for an hour!"

The teenager lept to his feet, "Just a second!"

He stripped as fast as lightening.

Barry jumped in the shower not expecting the sting.

When hot water hit his skin he let out an agonized silent scream.

Another knock.

"Barry?"

He cradled his arm close to chest then hesitantly moved it out back under the water.

His pain levels spiked again.

Barry dropped to his knee's, water running down his face and blinding him.

Drops of blood oozed down the drain.

The blood was the best part.

It was just so enticing.

Barry totally got it if this was the reason people did it.

The thought of him being just another stupid teen cliche made Barry spit curse words.

Who cared?

Barry didn't give a fuck what the world thought about him.

The pain was just crashing down on him so hard he couldn't breath.

He wanted to cry until his eyes bled.

Scream until his voice died.

Maybe if he did cut a little deeper he would be able to see his mom.

"Barry? Are you okay?" Joe asked.

Barry tried to answer in the lightest tone possible, "Yeah, I'm okay."

The detective responded in a parenting manner, "Well you better get your butt out of the shower now, Iris needs to get ready for work."

"...Okay Joe."

Barry hissed as he reached to twist the knob.

The water vanished.

He could only thank God it was winter or else there would have been no way to hide his self-mutilation.

The physical pain didn't make him feel better.

It just made him feel worse.

Yet another emotional weight to carry.

Barry made sure there wasn't any lingering blood anywhere and dried off.

Gingerly putting back on the hoodie and opening the door.

Iris wasn't there.

Barry passed her room and said, "Iris! Shower's free."

"Thank God!" The eccentric girl slapped a magazine down on her bed and walked past him. "What were you, living in there?"

Barry gave a half-hearted smile.

He rubbed his eye.

His cuts weren't that deep did it even count?

Was this even happening?

Barry couldn't be sure of anything but the lingering stings and the strong chance Joe might find out.

It made him terrified beyond belief and multiple scenarios began to wrack up in his brain until Barry was in a downright panic.

How fast would they heal?

Would the swelling ever go down?

Would he do it again?

Barry grabbed his Mp3 and put it on repeat.

A sad, musical assamble filled his ears.

Barry stared out his window.

No longer tempted to smash it as he was earlier.

Cutting did nothing for him.

Barry had had no momentarily relief.

How could he get that?

Could it be found in Iris?

In their friendship and his secret adoration?

He absently picked at his baggy sleeve and didn't see Joe come in.

"Hey Barry...you wanna go grab a slice and watch the Superbowl later?"

The boy nodded, "Sure. I can't promise I won't eat the whole box."

"Oh I know you will. That's why I'm getting you and Iris your own."

Barry chuckled.

He consciously pulled his arm in closer as he talked with his surrogate father.

Please don't notice please don't notice.

He didn't.

The police detective left in the same mood he came in with.

Happy.

And completely unaware.

His heart pounded.

He could pretend to be happy couldn't he?

Barry never had to pretend around Iris.

He was always happy with her.

But why did Barry feel like breaking down at the same time?

Why couldn't he be happy?

For real.

And not pretend?

Why couldn't he seem to get out of this depression?

Barry exhaled, and adjusted his headphones.

He never had this much baggage to deal with since he was 11 and his mom was murdered.

His mom was murdered his mom was murdered.

How many fucking kids could honestly say that about themselves?

It didn't feel like something Barry could deal with.

It never did.

Tears fell down his face and his chin trembled.

Then he climbed out his window and took off for the Central City Park.

It was right around the corner.

Barry wrapped his coat tighter around him so the frosty chill couldn't get to him.

He found his stash of cigarettes and lit one up, pale hands shaking.

He inhaled the calming smoke with gusto.

Barry closed his eyes and finally felt at ease.

He smoked and walked around until it grew dark.

He knew Joe would be looking for him.

Barry ran back to the house awaiting the shake down he was about to get.

(Hopefully he would be able to get the smell off him before that happened.)

He climbed back in his window and closed it gently, hissing as his injured wrists moved.

"You're late."

The 16 year old science prodigy cringed, "Yeah sorry about that Joe."

"You take a smoke?"

Barry's eyes widened.

Joe leaned back on the bed casually, "Relax. You honestly didn't expect me to find out? Barry, I'm a police detective and smelling like a chimney is your very own personal axe colon."

"Shit," he mumbled under his breath. Then, "I'm sorry Joe."

"I bet your sorry. Now...what are we going to do about this?"

Silence.

"I don't know."

"How about you come with me on every smoking related crime scene?" Joe offered.

Barry gulped, "They have those?"

"Oh you bet. Quiet a few in fact."

..."Promise you won't tell Iris?"

"I think she already knows."

The lanky boy nodded, never meeting his gaze.

..."Barry what's going on? And don't deny it."

"...Nothing," he finally whispered. "Nothing at all."

Next Time...

"How did that not save her?!"

"I've had it up to here with accusations that I'm crazy! THAT I DIDN'T SEE WHAT I SAW THAT NIGHT!"

"YOU SAW YOUR FATHER BARRY! NOT A MASKED MAN IN A YELLOW LIGHT, NOT THE TOOTH FAIRY: BUT HENRY ALLEN!"

"You better run and hide...because I'm coming for you."