The particle accelerator wasn't supposed to malfunction that night.
But when it did, not only did it create The Flash and many other meta-humans...
It created Swift.
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Anna Wells, the niece of Harrison Wells, was your normal everyday girl...
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running to stand still part one
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SLEEP WASN'T AN escape anymore. In the early days of being a superhero when things got hard, Anna looked forward to sleeping eight hours—or more—every night so that she could wake up energized and ready to tackle the problem. But that wasn't the case now. Not anymore. Sleep was dreadful. She dreaded the time when the sky fell dark and the clock ticked into a four-digit number, when the streets slowly became empty and dull without the sounds of speeding cars and horns honking. While everyone else slept peacefully in their beds with sweet dreams in their heads, or no dreams or nightmares at all, Anna couldn't catch a break.
Every time Anna closed her eyes in an attempt to slip into what she hoped would be a peaceful night's sleep, she was sent in the opposite direction and fell into a nightmare; a nightmare that felt so real that she felt everything. She could feel the sun on her face, the wind in her hair, could smell the fresh air. She could feel Barry's fingertips on her body as he touched her skin softly, and the soft kisses he pressed to her neck and collarbone and lips.
And she could sense—feel—when things were about to go wrong.
Anna could always feel when something was going wrong in her dream because her heart would start to race and her breathing would get heavy and quick. In mere seconds, she could feel Zoom throwing her across the room so he could grab Barry. He'd kill the love of her life right in front of her, allowing his blood to stain the cream-coloured carpet in her bedroom. And then Zoom would move to her at the speed of light, attacking when he knew she was weakest as she watched Barry bleed out on her carpet. His knuckles would collide with her jaw, his claws would cut deep into her skin and send trickles of blood down her body. And then, it happened every time no matter how differently the beginning of the dream began, he would slam his hand right through her chest and still her beating heart in mere seconds.
Anna sucked in a deep breath and shot upright, gasping for air as she squeezed her eyes shut to let the tears fall from her waterline.
"Anna?" Barry questioned beside her as he sat up quickly, placing a hand on her back lightly. "It was a nightmare, Annie. You're still here, and everything's okay," he whispered and kissed her neck below her ear and then the top of her shoulder.
Anna choked out a sob and sniffled, screwing her eyes shut even more than they already were. She squeezed her thighs, digging her fingernails into her skin to remind herself that she wasn't trapped in that hellish nightmare, but instead was in bed with Barry.
"Come here," Barry whispered and wrapped his arms around her gently, lowering them both onto their sides so they could face each other. He rested a hand on the side of her face, wiping away the tears on her cheeks. His touch was gentle, as if she were porcelain that might chip and break under even the slightest amount of pressure—and after that dream, maybe she was as fragile and breakable as porcelain. "What happened? You never talk about it, so tell me."
