Broken (Prinxiety)

21

      Virgil made his way deep into Thomas's mind, past imagination. Slowly things grew darker and darker, the scenery behind him melting away until he was walking in pure darkness. This was the deepest place in Thomas's mind, the place that Virgil had sealed his brother in. 

      A chill came across him, and he shivered. Virgil got the feeling that someone was watching him. He knew that this was no irrational feeling; he was sure that his brother was out there, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. 

      For a moment, a wave of anxiety and dread swept over Virgil, causing his hands to start to tremble. He swallowed thickly and took deep breaths, trying to keep himself calm. He knew that it would be all over for him if he allowed himself to panic. 

      "Come out, Res," he called into the never-ending darkness. His voice echoed around him. 

      "Why are you here?" Virgil could hear Depression's voice, though because of the echo he was unable to pinpoint his exact location. 

      "You hurt my friends," Virgil responded, his voice sounding stronger than he felt. "You need to release them from whatever you did to them. If you do, I'll leave you alone."

      "Oh, you'll leave me alone?" Depression's laugh echoed all around him. "I don't believe that at all. You hate me. There is no way that you'll allow me to walk free, especially now that I've tormented you and your friends." 

      "It didn't have to be this way," Virgil responded, looking around. His voice rose slightly as he spoke. "We didn't have to be driven apart like this! But I just want what's best for Thomas. What you wanted to do would completely destroy him. He would be a shell of himself. I couldn't allow it to happen."

      "How selfless of you," Depression said sarcastically. "Poor little Virgil, he just wants to help out Thomas. But what about me? I'm your brother. I was loyal to you and only you; why couldn't you do the same?"

      "You were going to destroy Thomas!" Virgil's voice trembled with emotion. "I don't understand why you don't think of him. You're a part of him, just like everyone else!"

      For a long time there was silence. Virgil was afraid that Depression had left him for a moment, his anxiety taking hold of him again. Depression appeared seemingly out of nowhere, knocking Virgil's feet out from under him. He quickly pounced after this, penning Virgil to the ground. 

      "I'm not," Depression spat, his eyes filled with fury. "I'm not part of him, and I'm not like you."

      Virgil just stared at him for a moment, trying to wrap his mind around what Depression had said. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't understand what his brother meant by that. 

      "You're not?"

      "Of course not!" The way Depression said this made Virgil feel as if he was missing something obvious. "I'm not a natural part of Thomas. I was a fluke, a slight corruption to Patton. I was created because his feelings had gotten too much for him to handle." 

      Pity began to fill Virgil despite what his brother had done. Or, would he count as his brother? Unlike Depression, Virgil was a natural part of Thomas.

      "Patton didn't want me. Logan didn't want me. Not even Deceit wanted me. But you...you were the only one that made me feel as if I belonged, as if I wasn't a mistake." The anger was gone from Depression's voice, replaced by sadness. He shook his head, his gaze hardening once more. "You locked me away. You are just as bad as the others, if not worse. I can pull off my plan without you anyways. You're weak. To weak to stop me."

      "That's not true," Virgil said desperately. "You weren't a mistake, okay? It was wrong of me to trap you here. I'm sorry! Just please don't take it out on everyone else! They don't deserve to pay for my mistakes." He didn't bother denying that he was weak because he knew that that would be lying. 

      Depression's eyes flashed with anger, and he gripped Virgil's throat tightly, cutting off his breath. Virgil's eyes went wide and he began to struggle, trying desperately to get away. Depression just laughed as he saw how helpless Virgil was. 

      "Where are you friends now, brother? No one is here to help you. And unlike the other sides, I have the ability to kill you if I wish to." He tightened his grip on Virgil's throat. Virgil's struggles increased as he tried desperately to draw in a breath. Black spots danced in his vision.

      Depression suddenly released him, a smirk on his face. Virgil gasped as his lungs filled with air, turning away and coughing. He was shaking like a leaf, tears pricking his eyes. He couldn't win. He couldn't help his friends. Depression was just too strong. 

      "Look at you," Depression sneered. "What a failure you are. No wonder you're alone. No one wants you around. No one likes you. You're just a ball of gloom that they tolerate because you are important to Thomas. And you know what? Thomas wishes that you weren't around."

      "That's not true..." Virgil's voice was raspy and weak. He was defeated. 

      "Oh yeah?" Depression placed his hands on Virgil's cheeks, and suddenly Virgil was no longer where he had been before. 

      Memory after memory began to play out in front of him. Every single instance when someone said something negative about him, or did something to prove their displeasure of him being there played in his head. It was overwhelming. 

      Depression was right. He was an idiot for thinking that he would be able to help. He should've known that his brother would win. 

      Virgil wanted to disappear. He wished that he could just go away so that he didn't bother anyone ever again. They would certainly be happier without him. 

      Slowly the color began to drain from him as the memories and Depression's sayings took over his mind. He was finally giving in. He could no longer put up a fight. 

      What was the point of fighting his brother anyway? No matter what he would be weaker than him. He was stupid for thinking that he had a chance. 

      Numbness filled Virgil's body as the memories danced in his head. Depression pulled his hands away with a satisfied look, watching as the color drained from Virgil, leaving him like Roman and Patton. 

      Virgil just allowed it to happen. 

      He was so tired...