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With only himself and three other competitors left on the Wall, Quinn knew he was in trouble.
Well, it wasn't so much Cam. He trusted him and would feel safe if he won--though the loss would still do severe damage to his ego. Tucker and Rubina were who he was really worried about, though. Tucker was his number-one enemy, and Rubina was Tucker’s girlfriend (whom Quinn also had a hand in almost evicting with his power last week). Either of them winning would be an absolute game disaster.
So Quinn needed to hold on with everything he had.
He was already starting to feel the competition’s toll on his body. His hands were starting to burn from gripping onto the handles so tightly. His legs were becoming sore from his standing position. And every blast of colorful ink was making him colder and colder.
But he needed to hold on.
Rubina fell, and Quinn felt a rush of relief. He and Cam just needed to outlast Tucker now.
His eyes followed Rubina as she joined the other eliminated competitors. T’Kor passed her a towel, and she sat down next to her and Kimo as she wiped herself down. It would have been so easy for Quinn to drop down and join her--to give his body a much-needed break.
But then his eyes went to Chelsie and Brooklyn, who were sitting together and practically staring at the boys with encouraging--no, pleading--eyes. The same eyes he recognized on Brooklyn during her pep talk after Cedric's eviction.
Her words echoed in his ears: “We need you.”
She was right. They needed him to hold on.
And he would hold on. If not for himself, then for them. And for Cedric.
Maybe if he had another chance at power, he could make up for what he did to him…
Cam fell, and so did Quinn's stomach. The fate of the entire Pentagon now rested on his shoulders and his alone. Cam looked up at him with an apologetic smile as he walked off. Quinn returned it with a smile of his own--though he wasn't sure if it convinced him he was okay like he wanted it to.
He needed to hold on. He couldn't fail again. He couldn't screw things up for his team again.
He needed to ignore the aches in his body. The lack of feeling in his hands, his unnaturally fast breaths, the combination of his tired legs and his freezing chest that caused him to shake…he needed to push all of it aside.
He looked back over at Tucker, so seemed to have a much easier time holding on. Typical. He just had to make enemies with the comp beast of the season.
He turned his head back around and closed his eyes. He tried to take a deep breath.
You can do this, he told himself. You can beat him. Just hold on. Hold on. Hold on.
His left foot slipped first, and fear overcame him. He tightened his grip on the handles, even though his hands already felt like they were going to snap off his body. He tried to lift his foot back onto the platform, but his other foot was too heavy. It quickly gave out.
He couldn't hold on any longer.
The next few minutes were a blur. He felt himself crashing onto the mat below him. He heard Angela excitedly announce Tucker as the new Head of Household and help him off of the platform. He saw the rest of the Pentagon rushing toward him, Cam and Chelsie helping him to his feet while Brooklyn got him a towel.
He was exhausted. There wasn't a part of his body that wasn't either in pain or numb from the cold. But the feeling of unsafety that came with a Tucker HoH reign was worse.
And worst of all was knowing how much he’d let his friends down--and let himself down.
He couldn't hold on. Literally or game-wise.