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Suitcase had found herself ‘falling’ for quite a while now, and many times at that. From the very beginning, it seemed like that would be her fate— to fall, hit rock bottom, to never rise again, to never go above her struggles.
Her first fall was one of her very first memories— it was from an airplane, a crash into a large hotel, one created the very same way she was. One that she hadn’t realized was just as ‘fake’ as she was. This fall is a little fuzzy to her now— all she can recall as the wind presses itself against her face in this very moment is the excitement that filled her, the adrenaline she got from the crash, the worry that perhaps she wasn’t the right fit for this show, vague fragments of the feelings that had stirred inside of her all that time ago. She wonders if, maybe, there’s another universe where ‘Suitcase’ went about playing her role in a different way— one where she never had to be hurt. Scarred. Where everyone she was involved with got a happy ending.
Realistically, there’s no chance. None at all. She finds herself aware of that at this moment. Or perhaps she always has been. There isn’t much point in thinking on it now.
Her second fall was off an unstable block of loose ice. She remembers the warmth that had filled her despite the ice-cold water filling her lungs, making it hard to breathe or see. She remembers the sudden epiphany, the one where she had momentarily believed she had a chance. That she could get through this competition with who she believed were her allies. That maybe she could… fly through the game, not a worry in her mind.
Suitcase has always wondered if meeting them was a mistake. Or— rather— if approaching them, being so desperate for allies to the point where she would degrade herself in such a way was a mistake. She’s always wondered if, maybe, had she spoken to someone else… things would’ve turned out different.
Both for her and for them.
But again— she knows very well there’s no use thinking in such a way. Not now, not when her body seems out of her control, when the world feels smaller than ever, when she knows for a fact that each and every one of her thoughts will cease to exist in just a moment and her experience will go to waste.
Come to think of it, she doesn’t know when those thoughts started to fill her head. Worries that even meeting the two was a mistake on her behalf. Perhaps it was in the haunted house. It could’ve been when Nickel didn’t seem phased at all by her (temporary) elimination. Maybe it was the first time she felt ‘wrong’ about her alliance, when she felt the pressure, the condescending gaze of Nickel’s eyes, the idea that if she didn’t steal this battery, her team would lose and it would all be her fault. It might have been when she and her alliance had had their very first large argument, when in the maze she was faced with the choice between following behind as she always did or defending the first person who made her feel… okay.
Or maybe it was during her third fall. Her plunge into the dark depths of the murky lake, entangling between the kelp and seaweed that seemed to reach the surface as she continued her descent. When she knew for a fact that she had messed up— that she had ruined any and all chance of Balloon gaining the trust of everyone else on that team, Nickel or not. She remembers the water as it attempted to force her up to the top, the seagrass as it continued to nip at her ankles, to drag her down into the depths, the cold metal of the bucket her teeth were clamored onto, the water rushing down her throat taking away any ability she had to cough, scream, shout for help, even if she wasn’t sure anyone would come. She remembers the voices that accompanied her in what was supposed to be the silent lake that muffled any sounds from above. The voices telling her betrayal was inevitable— she should give up— they’re not her friends— it’s all her fault— she’s the reason Balloon will never get the recognition she believes he deserves, more than anything.
And perhaps the third fall stuck with her most. It’s still there in her mind, clear as day, an image, a feeling she doesn’t believe she could ever wipe away, no matter how much she wished she could simply forget.
Not that that’s an issue. Not anymore.
Not after her fourth fall, what may be her final descent.
As the Sun sets before her, even if she knows everything she ever knew is about to disappear, she can’t help but feel…
Relieved. She supposes.
Despite the knowledge that everything was fake, that her struggle with ‘reality’ wasn’t worth anything, that she’ll never fully get to resolve anything, she feels a strange sense of relief. Perhaps it’s because she knows she’s done well in her final moments. That by preventing the show from ending, Cobs would never get that satisfaction he had desired. That she and the others who had followed the plan, who had made it to the very end would go out on their own accord. That she had broken away from the destiny that was written for her. That…
She glances to the side, to the person beside her.
That she had finally found a true ‘ally’— someone to trust, depend on, rely on, even if she’d only placed her full trust in him a mere moment ago. Someone who wouldn’t treat her as incompetent, someone who knew what she was capable of, someone who, at the same time, looked out for her and knew she would do the same.
And perhaps that, all of those things combined, each and every part of each and every one, are the reason behind the wave of tranquility that rushes through her head despite the circumstances. The fact that even if she’s never fully recovered from the scars of her past falls, the fact that she’s about to meet her end, to fall for the final time, to never again get the chance to resurface and breathe, all of it is negated.
In her last bit of time in this ‘reality,’ her final fall, she’s found herself with an ally, with a fulfilled purpose, with even the slightest idea of who she is, and with autonomy.
…
For the last time, Suitcase’s eyes come to a close, bracing for impact, and she, for the first time, feels truly satisfied.