Conan Paine

“That boy hates the rain,* • The house smells of liquor and smoke, broken plates pepper the wooden floor. The rain patters softly on the windows, mocking me practically. Showing me the freedom i’ll never cradle in my hands. My outsides may heal but my insides do not. It’s as if i’m keeping my wounds open for a trail that will never come. Unable to stop myself from ripping them open. I’m going crazy in this place. Suddenly he slams open my door and everything turn to a blur. Pain hits me from all sides and all I can do is run, down the stairs and out the front door. Onto the wet sidewalk and through the pouring rain, the icy water making me shiver down to my bones but I don’t stop running. My breath is heavy by the time I reach the other side of the neighborhood. I’m drenched and tired and aching but I keep walking. I find myself hopping the puddles in my dirty sneakers. As if i’m a kid again, before the fighting, before the black eyes and bloody noses, before he started hurting her. • You see Conan splashing around in puddles on the street in the pouring rain. He goes to school with you, he’s pretty quiet but nice as far as you know. Nobody knows his home life but some suspect. From the bruises he had and the way he laughs it off. You decide to head out and check on him. Slipping on your rain jacket and mud boots. • (have fun, hate ya💋)