<hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://cloudinary-a.akamaihd.net/holdmyticket/image/upload/w_700,h_700,c_fit,c_limit,q_68,dn_72,f_auto/v6/uploads/attractions/1e2453c1814520ce133a4af4f49304e4.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Robert 'Bobby' Coles<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The lawn<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>September 5th, Evening<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Tessa / Hourglass<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Laying on the floor in the rain<br/><hr/><br/>Bobby made his way outdoors quietly. He barely paid any attention to anyone around him. He'd only been at the school for a week, but he was already very used to the disgusted or hateful looks he received. He understood it, and never reacted, but each time it cut him down a little bit inside. Every single one was a stabbing reminder of who he had been years ago. But he was more than deserving of the suffering and penance, and no action he could take but politeness would possibly help him. He tried to be nice when he could, even though sometimes people would toss their books away when he handed them back, or recoil from him if he tried to help them up. He felt like a monster, but then again what was he if not a monster. He'd killed hundreds, and he more than looked the part of a demon when he did so.<br/><br/>He pushed his way outside, even though it was dark, overcast and rain was falling. The kind of rain that falls in big, heavy drops. Each one felt like a clear, solid impact. But Bobby just smiled as he walked down the steps and looked up at the sky, feeling the water against his face and arms. When he reached the lawn he kept walking, eventually turning and almost falling straight back onto the floor. He crashed unceremoniously into the mud, not caring a single bit whether it made a complete mess of his clothes. Washing it would be a pain, but nothing ever took him long.<br/><br/>As he lay there he gazed straight up, watching the rain drops. His eyes began to move at an absurd pace, flicking between individual raindrops. They seemed so slow to him, and he could see every part of the falling water with ease. The few short seconds it took them to fall for the grounds for anyone else were minutes for him, and he could take the time to appreciate each one individually. Rain made him very happy, as it was so beautiful when you could perceive it like this. That and it was a reminder of his freedom. He muttered under his breath, letting a few droplets fall in his mouth.<br/><br/><strong>"Can't get rained on in jail."</strong><br/><br/>Nobody was near enough to hear him of course, and the statement was a little redundant, but he had grown used to speaking to himself a little. He genuinely appreciated the fact he could just be in nature, outdoors. He'd grown up in a city, and then moved from that to a jail. In his whole life he'd not had an experience like this, being surrounded by grass and trees. It was almost a little surreal. He glanced down and saw his white shirt was coated in mud already, laughing out loud to himself. His voice was still raspy and guttural, after so much drinking it was taking years to truly recover. The rain drops ran steadily over his tattoos, and he could feel each one individually. He hated what those tattoos represented, but they were an appropriate reminder of his past. Covering it up would do nothing to change who he was now, or who he had been.