<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>Robby Coles<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Jean's classroom<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>Sept 10, morning<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Jean Grey<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Sad story includes mentions of abuse<br/><hr/><br/>Bobby gripped the desk in front of him hard as he fought for control. He'd had a few moments like this in solitary. Sometimes the voices in his head were too much to drown out. Once he got on a dark path being so alone made it near impossible to distract himself. The past year his control had been impeccable but he wasn't used to nearly this much outside input. It was amazing to be free but he had constant reminders of who he'd been. Or, who he was. Depended who you asked really. As his mind raced his body shook a little.<br/><br/>Bobby looked nothing short of a horror movie, although thankfully not close to as unnatural as he could become. He shook a little and suddenly stiffened, his back becoming rigid and his head rolling up. The air temperature dropped in the room, and a faint burning smell seemed to roll in as the heat returned. Only this time it was from a single source, Bobby himself. Smoke emanated from his body as though there was a fire inside him, but there was no sign of the flames.<br/><br/>Bobby was almost entirely unaware of his actions, almost exclusively internally panicking. His mind wasn't particularly shut off from the telepath opposite him but instead he seemed to radiate anger. The personality he'd compressed his powers into was the house of almost all the hate and violence he could muster, and it had no concerns about growling threats to any who would look into his head.<br/><br/><em>"Bobby... Bobby. Bobby!"</em>It snarled the last time, vying for his attention.<br/><br/>But still he ignored it, breathing particularly steadily he took a heavy inhale and exhale and slowly opened his eyes. The smoke seemed to dissipate a little and the temperature evened back out. Bobby shook his head. That was altogether far, far too close. Jean seemed concerned for him but not hateful. The yelp was understandable and didn't upset him. As soon as he felt able to return to speaking he replied to her. His deep voice and strong west L.A accent came across easily. He felt a bit out of place among so many better spoken people.<br/><br/><strong>"It's not an it. It's me. No point faking that voice ain't in my head. It's like another personality. Something like that. I compart.. mentalised?" </strong><br/><br/>He trailed off as he turned the statement into a question, not sure if it was the right term.<br/><br/><strong>"Split up my thoughts when I lost... when I lost them back then. Couldn't deal with it so I put the anger and hate away. Now it's like that. But it always hits when my powers do. I need to separate the fire from the thoughts. Otherwise I can't ever use them again." </strong><br/><br/>He looked down a little, feeling ridiculous saying it.<br/><br/><strong>"But I talked to someone. She made me think maybe doing nothing isn't the best choice for me. Maybe I can try and do something worthwhile with them, atone for my sins."</strong>