A/N: Alright, here we go with my first Young Justice story! I love Wally so obviously I have to write about him in pain!

Disclaimer: Nope! Don't own.

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse. It doesn't describe the scenes, tbh. Just how Wally feels afterwards. Also, there's a little bit of some mentioning ofsuicidal thoughts, but not enough that I should warn you. But you know. Better safe, than sorry, you feel me?

Come on, Wally. You're fifteen now. You can't do this.

You're screaming and his fists won't stop smashing into your body and your skin hurts andwhyisdaddyhurtingyou?!

You shudder. You can't help it. Being a superhero does nothing for your subconscious, it seems.

Great.

You stare longingly at the door in front of you, that you're standing in front of like a child. How often did you even do this? Just…pathetically stand in front of Uncle Barry and Auntie Iris' bedroom door in the middle of the night, hoping, praying that your silent screams wake them up so they can check on you.

Make things better.

But your stomach drops to your feet in disappointment because you're just too stubborn to open that door and beg for them to just make everything better.

You don't know how long you can keep this up. You're so very tired and you want to sleep but every time you close your eyes—

Daddy, please, you're hurting me, stopstopstopPLEASE! I'll be good, I'll get good grades, just…Daddy pleaseloveme—

You pinch yourself to stop the painful memory. The memory that will happen tomorrow because it'll be Monday and you can't escape and you just… Come on! You're the Wall-man, you can't do this. You're Kid Flash. No one will want you if you're afraid of someone you're stronger than. Flash would be so disgusted in you.

So you let out a pathetic noise and give the slightly open door one last pleading look, before you turn and head back into your lonely, cold room and get into bed.

In the end, you don't sleep.

You're sitting in class, in the corner of the room with people who hate you. You're different and they despise you for it. But you still smile and laugh because that's what's expected of you.

You look at the clock and feel your heart drop. It's only second period and you're so, so sleepy. Your eyes are heavy, and your head feels like someone poured sand into it to weigh it down. You're hoping that lunch will help you, but that's still so far away.

Your eyes drift shut just for a moment, and it feels so good that you don't even realize you fall asleep. Until Mrs. Langrid's annoying voice fills your ears, making your arm move in fright so you face plant your desk.

"Forgive me, Mr. West. I didn't mean for my lessons to bore you to sleep. Perhaps you'd like to pay attention next time, hmm?"

Everyone sneers and laughs at you, and you grin too, because you feel like you might cry and never stop if you don't. But inside you hurt so bad that people can be so mean. So cruel even though you risk your life trying to protect them every day.

It hurts more than you'll ever willingly admit.

You somehow get through it and you're sitting at your empty table all alone at lunch with a mountain high arrangement of food in front of you. And you feel like you can get through this day, just like you do every day of every week.

But you're Wally. And the world hates you.

A milk bottle is hurled at the back of your head, making you come face to face with the barely passable macaroni casserole from the school. You give a mental groan and begin to wipe the disgusting food off of your face.

"Hey, West! Maybe you should share that food with the rest of us!"

"There's starving kids in Africa, ginger!"

"Where do you even keep it all?!"

"What a freak!"

And the laughs hurt, hurt, hurt. But you ignore them and bite into an apple. Your heart breaks a little more.

Next you're outside in itchy too short shorts, facing your very pissed off gym teacher. He's yelling at you for being so slow and making your team that doesn't even want you lose. You just have to laugh at the irony in that because you're the fastest kid alive.

But it's the wrong move because he's all red in the face and spit's flying everywhere. It's really gross and you don't quite stop the cringe that appears on your face when it lands on your freckled cheek. Yuck.

"Do you even want to be good at anything?! This is why you don't have any friends! You think you're better than everyone else, West. And I hate to burst your bubble, kid, but you ain't. Now I want to see you do fifty pushups right now. No wonder your father is so ashamed of you."

Now you really groan because you don't have any upper body strength. But the look he's giving you…

You start the pushups.

Finally, finally it's the end of the day. You think you can catch a break but you're Wally West. You make it for the double doors leading to freedom, but someone's shoulder rams into your throat because you're too short for your own good.

All of your papers and books fly out of your hands and you watch in dismay as your bus peels out of the school parking lot. Your dad will kill you for being late.

So you gather your stuff as fast as un-suspiciously possible and book it at a normal speed to your house because every second counts. Maybe he'll go easy on you.

But you know he won't.

And you're actually scared. Kid Flash is scared and you feel so disgusted with yourself.

You're ten minutes late and you might have accidentally tapped into your powers so it wouldn't take you a half hour. Your hand's clammy and shaky as you push the front door open. You know what's going to happen but you still can't help it. You're not even halfway inside, but the all too familiar aroma fills his nostrils.

He's drunk.

And you are so screwed.

The fists are flying before you can even muster up a pathetic excuse, let alone a scream.

He breaks your wrist.

For someone being so fixated on never being late, you have the curse of it today. You're late to training with Black Canary. An hour late.

And your bone is still broken. You haven't had the chance to eat in order to at least begin to mend it. It feels like your stomach is literally shrinking –because it is— and it hurts so bad, but at least your arm is numb, right?

You ignore the concerned looks Rob is sending your way and start your excuses.

"Hey, BC. I know, I know. I'm late. I got held up at school and I really, really need to eat something so if I could just…" You trail off and whip out your puppy dog eyes. Robin confided in you that none of the adults from the Justice League, not even Batman, can resist it. And you hope he wasn't lying.

She gives you one more glare before sighing and waving you away, only stopping you when she calls Rob back from following you. Thank god.

Your wrist is starting to hurt again and you blur into the kitchen. In no time, there's at least fifty sandwiches stacked up just waiting for you to dig in. And you do. Until nothing, not even crumbs are left on the platter. Something catches your attention and you pick up some weird container. It's M'gann's mirror compact.

You didn't know. Otherwise you wouldn't have opened it. You see the bruises peeking out from you costume and it fills you with shame. But they'd disappear soon. No biggy. They were already yellow; the last stage of healing. Maybe some more sandwiches will help.

They do.

Your arm hurts so bad now that you can't keep the grunts of pain from escaping your closed mouth. But that was good. You're holding the bone, making sure it heals correctly. Within minutes, it's set and no more than a sprain.

The bruises are gone, your stomach is better, and your spirits are lifted.

"KF, we have a mission. Come on, we'll fill you in on the way." Robin calls from outside the room. A grin slips onto your face and there's a bounce in your step. Maybe today will turn around.

It doesn't.

It's a stealth mission. You're trying to stop a drug cartel from the inner city of Blue Valley, Nebraska. M'gann connects your mind with everybody else and you go over the plan.

'Robin and Superboy, you will take the left border by the forests' entrance.'

'You got it, Aqualad.'

You snigger under your breath at the grunt Connor gives, because only he can grunt over mind links. Artemis glares at you and you roll your eyes. What a stick in the mud.

'Artemis, get into place from the building's roof to the east of us. Just in case things go wrong, you are to—.'

'Snipe them. I know the drill.' You watch her go in annoyance. Why does she have to be so cool and perfect? Which, newsflash, you think, she isn't.

'Kid Flash, I want you to approach the guards by the crates and place a bug on the wall next to them, alright? Is your stealth suit on?'

You press the button on the middle of your costume and watch as black begins to take the place of your signature yellow and red. Before you can respond, dizziness startles you into almost falling over.

'Kid Flash. Come in.'

'Easy peasy, rice and cheesy.' You murmur and zip to the location you were appointed, only to have smoke invade your breathing. Gross. Smoking reminds you of—

You scream and cry and sob but he won't stop kicking you. You let out a wet cough and you're so scared—

"Damn it." You curse, knowing that the memory is being transmitted into your teammate's minds. Gasps and concerned voices meet your ears. You ignore them for the moment and slap the listening device onto the wall. How to rebound from that one?

'What the hell was that, Baywatch?!'

'W-Wally?'

'KF, what—?'

'Friends. This isn't the time.'

'Sorry guys, I had to read something for English—a book called a Child Called It, and the smell reminded me—well, this isn't really the time. Kal is right. The bug is in position.'

'Yeah, I've read that book. It's messed up. But good job, Kid. Just stay hidden, okay?' You let out a relieved breath at your quick thinking and slink back into the shadows like a certain giant bat everyone knows. This mission is going great so far.

But you're Wally West.

Nothing is ever great for you.

The hazy feeling is back and you're so tired that you can't stop the cement floor from meeting your face. You hear startled yelps and rustling and you are so screwed.

"Well, well, well. Who do we have here? A little Niño is lost, no?" Oh shit. You're too out of it to get up and you just ruined the whole operation. "Grab the baby hero, amigos. Boss will surely want to see him."

And, just like that, arms are pulling you up roughly. You scream when they yank on your still hurting wrist. 'Uhnn, g-guys? N-need some help here.' They're mad at you. You're messing up everything and forcing Artemis to start shooting. The guns are going off but you still can't open your eyes because they're too heavy.

Until there's cool metal pressed to your temple. Your eyes are definitely open now. There's a gun to your head and your Team is mad at you. They hate you. Your friends hate you.

They're going to leave you for dead and you deserve this.

"Kid Flash, drop!" You do. You make your body boneless and fall to the floor when the shocked Mexican drops you. Robin is here, thoroughly pissed to Kingdom Come, but you just lay here because you're so freaking useless, too weary to climb to your feet.

Then the whole Team is here, with punches and kicks until the baddies are a bloody mess and all tied up. Robin is by your side and you're so embarrassed when he lifts you up some. How is it that your thirteen year old friend can carry you so easily? Something's seriously not right with the world. Your already dwindling pride deflates even more.

"Dude, you didn't think we would come for you? That I wouldn't come for you? Seriously not feeling the aster, man." And you force a smile because you honestly didn't think he would. You sometimes really hate the mental connections. Where's the privacy nowadays?

"You fucking idiot! You couldn't do one thing right, could you?! God, you're useless!" Artemis throws her arms up and walks away. It hurts knowing that you're right about how they feel. Deep down, you always thought they love you. But they don't.

Because you're Wally West.

Everyone hates you.

You're face to face with one angry Batman, it's late and you need to get home because you promised your mom it would be an early night.

You're five hours late.

Damn it.

"You jeopardized everyone when you messed up, Kid Flash. It would have been on your shoulders if they had died." And who says that to a kid? Who does that? "What caused you to reveal your position?" He growls low in his throat when you stare at your feet, refusing to make eye contact.

His hand jerks your chin up to meet his cowled lenses. What's the point in eye contact if you couldn't even see his?! But you still cringe because he's big like your dad and he's rough and scary. And he's actually kind of hurting you. Ever the detective, he sees you shudder in fear and reluctantly lets you go.

"I was tired. Sir. It was an accident." You mumble in shame. You can't do anything correctly. At least you know this, right?

"You could have killed your team. Because you were tired. They all would have died because you were tired." You can't get yourself to answer. If the painful lump in your throat is anything to go by, you'll be a crying mess if you talk. "Your duties of Kid Flash are over. You are hereby suspended until further notice. "

You don't think you hear him right. You hear him wrong. You-you—

"You can't, Bats!" You yell out in despair. He can't do this to you. It was an accident, you didn't mean to—you can't sleep!

"Give me one reason." He demands.

Because you'll be stuck with him nononono thiscantbehappeninghe'llkillyouforsure! "I need Kid Flash. You don't understand, Batman. I need him." You're hysterical now, but you can't care. You just can't because your world is literally ending.

"Enough to kill your team?"

And you finally snap. "Damn it, you don't understand! You'll never understand! If I can't be Kid Flash, I'll die. I didn't kill my Team, but you don't think this won't haunt me, Bruce?! You don't think I'll go home and lose another night's worth of sleep over this?!" You're breathing heavy and you feel the wall supporting you crumble.

"That's enough."

"He'll kill me. I'll be dead if I have to spend more time with him. Is that what you want?! Useless Wally will be dead and you'll all be happy because…because—!" You've said too much. You've finally broken the dam inside you and all of your problems are spilling out like water. Wave after wave. It's suffocating you. Drowning you.

You pull a Roy harper and rip off your goggles, throwing them on the floor in front of the stunned Bat. You speed to the zeta tubes and get the hell out of there.

Because you're Wallace West. And no one will ever want you.

You're hiding under your blanket like some little kid while angry voices argue right outside your door. You're scared. You're scared because your mom screams and stomps down the stairs and leaves the house. You're alone with him.

He kicks open your door and you don't know what to do. You're not Kid Flash anymore. You're scared, pathetic little Wally West and your father is about to beat you senseless for his failed marriage, his failure of a child. His failure of his so called life.

"Boy, you get up right now! Get the fuck up!"

Your eyes are surprisingly dry as your dad shakes you.

It's hours later and everything hurts so bad. You're not going to school. There's no way. You have broken ribs, black eyes, bruises everywhere, and blood had begun to stain your already red hair. Not to mention your stomach is eating you from the inside out. You couldn't even get up from the bottom of the staircase. Hooray for Tuesdays.

But, thankfully, your dad was gone. Your mother hasn't come back. You have a feeling she isn't going to. She's left your life and you're so jealous because you'll never be able to escape your own life. Not unless…

You shudder at the thoughts evading your brain.

You're too weak to even do that.

So you're going to die here. In a puddle of your own blood and piss. You actually wet yourself in terror when you saw your dad bring out his baseball bat. You're suddenly glad Batman has taken your mantel away. You don't deserve to be Kid Flash.

Your eyes are glazing over and there's dark slowly creeping up on you. You are so tired. Every time you move it brings a chilling, breaking pain that courses through your whole body. You hurt and want your uncle Barry. He always makes the pain away.

You imagine his warm smile and safe arms and give a bloody grin to nothing – until you remember that you don't deserve his love. You don't have his love. Your heart hurts more than your broken bones. Why doesn't anyone love you?

You struggle up, only to fall right back down. You're going to die at the bottom of the staircase, where daddy had pushed you. You are going to die and you are scared. "Someone…help…" You croak out. Your throat is dry and raspy. You kinda sound like Batman.

And you're an idiot. There's a cell phone in your pocket. You manage to wrestle it out and stare at it. Do you want to call for help? Will anybody help you? You push the phone away and curl in on yourself. Don't bother, you tell yourself. Just go to sleep, Wall-man. You ignore the tears that finally break free, that turn into harsh sobs, which in turn, becomes loud wails.

Because you're Wallace Rudolph West. And you deserve everything that happens to you.

A/N: So there you have it! I'm not sure if I want to make this into a two-shot or what. So. Yeah. That's up to you guys.

I hope nothing was too graphic? Like, If I should up the rating, please tell me. Same with any grammar issues and criticism. Or if you just want to tell me it was good, leave a review! That's the only way authors know they're good at what they do!

Thanks for reading! c: