Hidden Mysteries

Standing Up

"Suitcase!" Baseball cries, rushing over and hugging me, squeezing me so tightly that I could barely breathe. "Thank god you're okay!"

"Baseball, let go!" I push myself out of my dad's embrace, gasping for air. "You're gonna crush me!"

"Where the hell have you been?!" Nickel shouts, standing up from his spot on the couch. "We were worried sick!"

"I was out," I reply, shoving my hands in my pockets. My fist curls around the crystal pendant in my pocket, which I had shoved in there before entering the house once I saw the lights in the living room were on. I couldn't tell my family what I had just witnessed, I just couldn't.

"Out where?" Nickel asks, folding his arms.

"I said I was out." I copy Nickel, glaring at him. "Specific enough for you?"

"No, not in the slightest! We didn't know where you were, or if you were even okay!" He sighs, staring down at me. "You were with that Balloon kid, weren't you? I knew it, he's starting to become a bad influence on—"

"He isn't any kind of influence!" I snap back, causing Baseball and Nickel to jump. "You don't know Balloon like I know him. And even then, you're only tolerating him because Baseball told you to! If you had your way, you'd ban me from seeing him altogether, wouldn't you?!"

"Suitcase! Stop it!" Baseball scolds me, coming to Nickel's defense. "You're way out of line!"

I know that. Oh, that fact is crystal clear, but I don't care anymore. I don't care about trying to make my family happy, or doing things they tell me to do without giving it a second thought, or anything.

Now, I'm finally breaking free; breaking free from the mold that is my dad's "sweet, innocent, perfect little girl". That's not the person I want to be. Not anymore. I want to be myself, a person that makes decisions without their parents hovering over their shoulder for every second of it.

I want to be Suitcase.

And Suitcase is going to step farther out of line.

"Oh, I'm the one out of line, huh?" I snap, glaring at Baseball with a look that could kill. "I'm the one in the wrong? If anything, Nickel is! Ever since I befriended Balloon, he's been so against it, and the only one doing anything at all is Knife! You just...stand there in the background and let Nickel do that, talk like that to my only friend!"

"Suitcase, i-it isn't—Nickel just wants—" Baseball starts to speak, but I'm not going to let him finish. I'm not done, not even close.

"What? What does Nickel want?" I turn my head to stare back at Nickel. "How does he know that what he says is best for me? Hell, why should that even matter? You shouldn't even have that much authority over me in the first place! You're not even related to me, you're just nothing but Baseball's bitch!"

"Suitcase Slams!" Baseball gasps. "Don't talk to Nickel like that!"

"Suitcase, c'mon," Nickel says slowly, trying to reason with me. "I know I can be...harsh on you sometimes, but your mom would have wanted—"

"What the hell do you know about what Mom would have wanted for me?!" I scream, feeling tears of anger prick at my eyes as I squeeze them shut. "Mom never even got to meet me!" I slam my fist against the nearby wall, some pictures that were hanging up falling to the ground, the glass in the frames breaking. I think I might've made a small crack in the wall, too, but I don't care. All I see is boiling red. As I open my eyes, I can see Nickel's face having gone pale, with Baseball standing and shaking, staring down at the floor.

"Go to your room. You're grounded," he says, having trouble keeping his voice steady. "We'll talk about this in the morning."

"Fine! I didn't want to be down here anyways!" I scream, stomping up the stairs to my room and slamming the door, flopping onto my bed. I can't believe I did that, talked back to my family like I just did. Before, I never would have dared to do that, but now...

I place my hand on my chest, chuckling slightly. This feels...just like how I did when I defended myself after Balloon had pierced my ears. Was this the so-called "teenage rebellion" that they showed in teen TV shows and the overly cliched coming-of-age movies?

It felt...good. Really good.

Yeah, I might've gotten grounded, but that's not the point that I'm focused on. I stood up for myself, to my dad and his boyfriend, for the first time. And it's sure as hell not going to be the last.

I place the journals in their hiding spot, smiling slightly to myself. The old Suitcase that my family knew is gone, dead. I'm not going to be the overly polite girl who did everything she was asked without question, because she was too much of a pushover to say no. Not anymore.

Now, I'm going to start finding out who the real Suitcase is.