What about Dale

He sat in a corner far secluded in his dreams ,dreams that never end .

They would walk past and stare their blank looks mimicking his cold gray stare. He could see, yes he could see many things but they didn't have to know that.

Dale grinned. He could see colors in his head with his eyes closed ,spinning, spinning in the rain. He heard a voice far beyond his dancing rainbow. A claw like grip tightened on his arm and he was dragged away. Looking up he saw it .The crow with the hooked beak and the dark beady eyes behind thick horn rimmed glasses. The buzzard in doves clothing. She took him into the old building. so old the main stairs creaked and nearly swayed with each foot step on the way up to the fourth floor. The "Bad Room" hardly a broom closet just big enough for a naughty boy to stand in until he's finished 5 hail Mary's and a thought of a decent apology for the head mistress of St. Joseph of Assisi .

Dale smiled as the door closed on him. The darkness was back but with it came the cold .The colors didn't come just yet but he knew they would ,they always came when he was alone , cold and wet in a tiny room hardly fit for a broom to be stashed in. Reciting his prayers as others attend Mass.

The head mistress, Sister Mary Catherine would not approve of his thoughts, would not approve of how he saw her now in the choir room with the Father Thomas. She would not approve of the apology he had for not being at mass but out catching colors in the rain. He heard the footsteps drawing nearer. The lock clicked and the heavy door moaned open. Head down he began his hail Mary's , rosary in hand .He didn't fidget under her harsh glare. In her hands was "old John" the same strap of leather she was beaten with as a child.

"Your apology young man ?" the crow sneered down her hooked beak .slapping "old John impatiently against her own thigh.

"I am sorry" he began. "I am sorry for the sins I have committed ,I am sorry for my impure thoughts ,I am sorry for the things I ve seen, I am sorry for the children whose Mass I disturbed ,I am sorry for knowing of your unclean actions with Father Thomas, I am sorry for being born a bastard child , I am sorry for the death I caused my mother , I am sorry for the lies I have known ,I am sorry for loving the feel of rain.."

Dale grew steadily colder and colder as he continued. The rosary felt like ice in his fingers. The glare of the head mistresses burned into the top of his head. The bite of 'old John' was like fire on his shoulders legs and back.

The blows stopped. The door closed. The lock clicked back into place. Darkness came upon him and with it came cold. Slowly the colors came back. The colors he could only see with his eyes closed to the world. He lay down on the bare dusty floors and let the coldness spread through him. With the colors came the voices. The voices that told him what he saw, the voices that brought the colors.