Welcome to Hell {Prinxiety}

Chapter 5

Virgil's POV

The three of us walk inside the cottage at the edge of town. Whether it's for the better or worse, I think Pat and Lo forgot about my promise from earlier to explain the weird reaction I had back at the market. I don't even think they knew what I was reacting to, but it couldn't have been too hard to figure out.

"So Virgil, would you mind enlightening us as to why a certain market stall seemed to have a negative impact on your mood?" Spoke too soon, dammit Logan's near perfect memory. Don't complain, you were just being a coward by hoping they'd forget.

"Oh right!" Patton perks up, "Is everything alright? You looked kinda scared back there."

And welcome back anxiety, looks like I'm gonna have to deal with you today after all. It should not be this hard to talk to them about this, it's for Roman dammit! This is the way to help him, or at least a place to start, for now I should just hope they believe me. They look at me expectantly, "Well, I think I may be ready to talk about my past..."

Patton gasps, "Really!? I mean you don't have to tell us if you don't want to."

"Patton is correct, if you are not completely sure that you want to tell us about yourself then you should not feel pressured to," Logan assures me.

"It's fine, you guys might be able to help anyway," I mumble. They were willing to take me in, maybe they know someone that could help take down the people running Hell, "Have either of you ever heard of the Castillo Mines?" I officially hate whoever taught me how to speak.

"No..." They say in unison, looking confused.

I sit down on the couch, "Well, for the last nine years or so that's where I lived with a couple hundred other kids. All of us at one point or another were taken off the streets or from orphanages and sold into the mines, or Hell as we all called it," I look down at my lap, suddenly very interested in my fidgeting hands, "I managed to escape a couple months ago, and you guys found me soon after," Do I ask if they can help me shut the place down? I mean I just dumped this cannonball of a story on them, and they might not even believe me. For all I know they might not have even understood half of what I said.

Arms wrap around me in a tight hug, "How could someone do that??" Patton cries against my shoulder, "What was it like there?" Patton asks quietly, as if he's afraid of the answer.

How am I supposed to answer that without making him depressed? "Well, a bunch of us all stayed in one room on these quadruple-stacked bunk beds so it's not like we were really lonely. In fact, I had one really good friend down there," I tell him, deciding that sounds much more positive than literally everything else about the mines, "He's kinda the reason I wanted to tell you guys about it, I couldn't just leave him there and I'm gonna need help getting him out."

Patton pulls back from the hug quickly, "Of course we'll help, right Logie?"

He considers for a moment, "Well, if you have any information on whoever's in charge of these mines then it is possible we could have them arrested," He mumbles, more to himself than me, and begins to pace around.

"I could write down everything I know about him," I may have no idea who runs the trafficking ring, but I've seen Ryan Castillo a bunch of times, I'll just have to hope that it's enough.

"Could you also locate the mines on a map?" He asks, pausing in front of me.

Should I tell him that I have absolutely no idea what a map is? "Maybe...?" Well, there's definitely no way this could go wrong. I've already made a fool of myself dozens of times so one more won't hurt.

"But more importantly; are you okay kiddo?" Patton asks worriedly, his hands still gripping my shoulders.

"Yeah," I assure him, gently pushing his hands off as the contact gets increasingly uncomfortable.

He seemingly remembered that I don't like contact and quickly took his arms away, "Sorry! I forgot that you don't like being touched."

"Don't worry about it," I tell him, hiding my discomfort. He's a freaking puffball, I'd literally jump off a cliff out of guilt if I upset the guy.

His attention quickly shifts, "Wait is that where you got your tattoo? In heck?" How innocent does he have to be- y'know what? Nevermind, I'm not even gonna question it.

"What tattoo?" Logan asks, obviously confused. To be fair my expression probably matches his, I didn't know Patton knew about the inky branding on my shoulder, it was the reason I never wore tank tops.

I pull my sleeve up over my shoulder, leaving the tattoo out in plain sight, "This one," It was a simply a small number; Ω-37.

Logan examines the marking, "What is the omega symbol for?" He asks.

"From what I can tell it's for the generation? Each group of kids they buy or whatever are given a different symbol," I explain awkwardly, "It's so they have an idea as to how old we are or something."

"Interesting," He mumbles before releasing my arm, "About how many children are in each 'generation'?" Logan asks.

"I dunno-"

"Don't know," Logan corrects automatically.

"Probably around forty?" Every boatload or two of kids delivered was a new generation, but it's not like I did a head count while I was having a panic attack. I don't really remember anyone else being brought on after me so close enough.

"This is certainly an...interesting development," Logan comments slowly, almost like he doesn't know what to say for once.

"That's one way of putting it," Patton agrees, "I'm just upset that my kiddo had to go through that."

"I'm alright Patton, you helped enough by giving me a place to stay," I assure him, earning a small smile.

I gesture for Logan to do something, and he just looks at me confused. He raises his arms like 'what do you expect me to do?' Giving up on his ability to figure it out on his own, I stand up and push him down onto the couch next to Patton. He hesitantly wraps his arms around Patton to comfort him, finally catching on. I don't like contact, and the two of them clearly like each other so it seems like a win-win.

Patton smiles brightly and hugs back, pretending to still be upset. I could ruin the moment with a comment about how they should just get married already, but retreating to my room because I can only deal with ten minutes of social interaction at a time sounds much better. 

A/N: Virgil is slowly starting to sound like me, this is fine.