Scar regrets winning. He really does.

He should have let Pearl kill him.

Scar roamed the lands of secret life. He buried all his dead friends, made each of them a grave, wrote them sweet obituaries despite his dyslexia.

When all that was done, he had nothing else to do other than tend to his sunflowers. So he did. He tended to each flower, waiting for the day he would become feed for them.

Sometimes, shadow people came to visit him. It was the silhouettes of his friends, specifically, the other winners. He didn’t believe it was really them. He especially didn’t believe it was you.

Scar figured it was the Watchers playing tricks on him. He considered jumping off the cliff where Pearl died, but he was scared. What if he just respawned? What if he was sent to a place worse than this?

Scar tended to his flowers, stroking the petals. He was lost in thought, until he caught a glimpse of shadow in the corner of his eyes. He turned, only to be met with the sight of you.

“This isn’t funny… go away… I know you’re not really them…”

Scar said, pain and hurt stinging in his chest. He didn’t think you’d visit him. He figured you hated him. It hurt even worse because your shadow was the one that showed up the most often.

“They wouldn’t want to see me… they wouldn’t ever visit… stop it… you’re not them…”

Scar took a step back, tears brimming at the corner of his eyes. He hated this. He hated this so much. It was just a cruel joke by the Watchers. It wasn’t you. It couldn’t be.