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The silence was unbearable.
Scar had been here for, what, almost a year now? The silence, only disturbed by the rustling of wind through the grass and what he could have sworn was a voice whispering in his ear.
Every time he whipped around to look, though? There was nothing, not even a body which these voices belonged to.
Because they were there, he knew they really were.
If only there were someone else around to help him prove it. Either way, he wasn’t sure anybody *would* help if they *were* here. He had said it himself, even. He had no friends this entire time, even if it technically wasn’t his fault, the stupid (well, maybe he shouldn’t call them stupid) taskmaster had forced him into secret tasks that had ultimately caused others to stray from him.
Was it all worth it, though? Now alone with his thoughts and those stupid, persistent whispers, Scar found himself wondering this. While (very technically) he could do whatever his heart desired, it was no fun. Nobody to talk to, and he wasn’t *quite yet* so insane to start trying to talk back at those voices that seemed to follow the wind. (was he insane to even believe they were there?)
Most days, he ended up staring at the Secret Keeper. For hours, sometimes moments. He wondered why it (they?) had been so cruel to him. *maybe* it wasn’t exactly the healthiest idea to ponder that so often.
Knowing that, he usually tried to just distract himself (to little avail, mostly). Everywhere he looked, there was everyone else’s bases, the Secret Keeper, and the unsettling quiet.
The stark reminders he was alone always hung heavy in the air. But if that was the case, had anything truly changed since he had won?