And His Name was Virgil - Sanders Sides

New Truths and New Lies

/TW: abuse, implied depression, so. much. ANGST\

Virgil

The cell hall feels...a lot colder than normal. It weighs heavily down on my shoulders, yet it feels so empty at the same time. It's numbing, and it almost makes me want to give up on this. Key word being almost. Janus needs someone right now, and I want to be there for him.

I push through the depressing feeling and reach Janus's cell. He's curled up in the corner, head in his knees. He looks so...weak. It's unlike him.

"Janus?" I ask weakly. He doesn't look up; either he's ignoring me or he's too busy with his thoughts. He doesn't tell me to leave, though.

I quietly walk into his cell, careful not to scare him. He's very vulnerable right now, it would be a bad idea to freak him out. I slowly sit down next to him. I don't touch him, just wait for him to notice me. I wait for him to come out of it.

"You were looking at me funny." He mumbles. Alright, I guess he did ignore me.

"What?"

"You were giving me a weird look; I didn't miss the recognition in your eyes, Virgil." He said. He sounds choked.

"Tell me, Virgil; what's you story? How did you find happiness?"

I tense. Memories from the worst times of my life start flooding into my mind again, the dam holding them back breaks from the pressure. I have to shove my emotions down to say something.

"Only if you tell me first." I say. I look away from him, down at my lap.

"Fine, if it'll get you to stop receding into yourself." Janus says. I swear he can read people better than Logan sometimes.

Janus sighs. I let him collect himself, mainly because I know I would be stressed out to suddenly tell someone my life story. I know I'm stressed, and I haven't even said anything.

"My parents died in a car crash when I was a baby." Janus starts. "I don't know who they are and I don't care enough to find out so don't ask." Janus takes a shuddering breath. "I was in the foster care system."

I shudder. I get a new surge of memories at the mention of the name.

"The houses I was put in were...horrible, to say the least. The parents lied to me, all the time, and they were manipulative little shits. Told me I should be grateful for having the bare minimum, telling me I didn't deserve it. They hit me and beat me for any small mistake I made."

It sounds terrifyingly familiar.

"When I was thirteen, I had enough. I made plans, and I saved up all of the money I had. One night, I packed up the small amount of stuff I owned, and I left. I got the fuck away from that life.

"I hitchhiked my as far away as I could get. The people who drove me were worried about why a thirteen year old was hitchhiking, but I didn't tell them anything. They just took me where I needed to go. I finally stopped when I reached San Francisco."

Janus closes his eyes, swallowing. "God, I hated being homeless, but it was so much better than being stuck in a horrible house."

He was homeless. Janus was homeless on the streets, with nobody there for him. That's why his name wasn't mentioned, that's why he was never pointed out. He never had a missing case because nobody ever called for him.

It makes me sick.

"I was constantly running from the police, and stealing food whenever I could get it. I took odd jobs, stayed at a lot of homeless shelters before the police caught up to me. They were probably overjoyed when I disappeared." Janus laughs bitterly.