The Turf War Twisted

Actually Just Evil

Like any person would, Grian hated jail. Grian hated the isolation, being locked up, everything. He couldn't believe something like this could happen to him. In all his time spent during the war, he never thought he'd end up a war prisoner. But there he was, sitting all alone in a cell that rang with silence. It was almost no different from the room he'd been taken from. The only difference was that this room actually had living accommodations instead of just being empty.

Plus, now there were actually people guarding him, making sure he didn't escape. Grian realised they had actually taken that "don't underestimate him" thing seriously. Clearly, they saw Grian as a threat, though he wasn't sure why they'd really think that. To Grian, it seemed like they were the ones going to extremes.

His brain felt so numb by the time he heard a door outside click open, and assumed it was just some guard shift change again. Grian sighed deeply, lying down uncomfortably on his back. He stared up blankly at the ceiling, trying to find shapes in the texture of the concrete. At that point, that was his only source of entertainment left.

Suddenly, the lock to his cell clicked. He turned his head abruptly towards the door, squinting his eyes with anticipation for who it could be. It was just like before, just like when Scar came the first time. And just like before, it was Scar again. And just like before, it felt like such a letdown. Grian didn't want to see Scar's face anymore, and didn't want to hear his voice. How was he meant to want to have anything to do with Scar?

"Why do you feel the need to keep bothering me, Scar?" Grian asked, his voice with wispy exasperation. He wasn't in much of a position to be so snarky to Scar. Though, as he saw it at that point, what was the worst that could happen? Scar closed the door behind him, leaning against it awkwardly. His stance seemed to shrink with uncertainty. Grian stared at him with a dull expression, sitting up and pulling his knees closer. "What? Nothing to say?" His voice almost echoed throughout the room. "Did you come here just to stare at me?"

"I just- I just wanted to say I'm sorry," Scar responded hesitantly, fiddling with his thumbs as he spoke.

"Oh." Grian seemed to stare daggers into Scar's eyes. "After all this, you think you can give me a pity apology?"

"Uhm, I never really wanted any of this to happen. I wish it could've been different."

"Yeah! Me too!" Grian threw his arms up, getting a slight sting of soreness. He brushed it off, though, not feeling much of anything past his anger. "I wish I could be anywhere but this cell, but here I am! If you really want things to be different, why not let me out of here right now?!" His vision was starting to blur with a headache. He felt dazed with his rage. Grian sighed. "But I already know you won't," he said with a calmer voice. "You can try to convince me, but as far as I'm concerned, you're actually just evil."

"Evil? Really?" Scar's voice was soft as he bent down, his back sliding against the door. He put his hands to his head, grasping his hair tightly. His head sunk into his knees and he ran his hands through his hair. "I guess I deserve that."

"No kidding," Grian said coldly, turning himself slightly away from Scar.

"I really don't want to be mayor anymore," Scar seemed to say out of the blue. Grian nearly had to do a double take hearing that. Scar loved being the mayor, and even just campaigning for it brought him joy.

"I really don't want to hurt you anymore."

Scar's words cut through Grian in a way he'd never felt before. He couldn't seem to form any words to even respond to Scar. He just sat there, thinking too many things. He wanted Scar to leave and never come back, but at the same time, Grian wanted him to stay and comfort him.

The silence pierced the room until Scar slowly got up, turning around and silently exiting the room. He didn't say anything before leaving, just left his last statement hanging in the air, and Grian could feel it.

Grian could only wonder. The only good thing about the isolation was that he could think about everything without everyone pestering him. Now, he could only wonder why Scar would say that. Was he lying about not wanting to be the mayor? Why would he?

Grian didn't really want to be the Mother Spore anymore. He didn't want the responsibility to weigh him down much longer. It was almost as if he was a fly already caught in honey, trying to get out. But it was too late, there was no turning back.

It infuriated Grian that he'd allow the Turf War to go on so long. Almost six months didn't seem like a lot, but that long of being at each other's throats? Now that was a lot to them.

And after all that, Scar said he didn't want to hurt Grian? It would've seemed more unbelievable if Grian hadn't felt the same. But he understood. He didn't want to hurt Scar either. The joy of winning, the joy of seeing his enemies crumble, it faded away.

Grian sighed, going up to the wall. "You make no sense," he said through the silence. Grian pressed his hand onto the mirror, seeing his reflection stare back at him, expressionless. "First, you say you're my enemy. Then, you don't want to hurt me." He kept gazing into the mirror. "I don't get your logic at all, Scar."

A small, silent gasp left Scar's mouth. How did he know...? Scar stared back at Grian, pressing his hand against the one-way mirror. He could see Grian, but Grian couldn't see him. Scar saw their hands were pressed to each other, the only thing separating them being the mirror.

(word count: 1021 words)