Be your own damn hero.
video confessional

Nora zipped up her suitcase, careful so as not to make the same mistake she did earlier in the year when she was first learning to control her super strength. One tug in the wrong direction would leave her with a broken zipper and useless piece of luggage, and move-out day was not the time for that to happen. She did another clean sweep of her side of the room to make sure that she hadn't left anything behind, and then one more sweep on Kat's side of the room to make sure that Kat hadn't left anything behind either, and she found that she was satisfied with what she saw. She lugged her backpack stuffed with her belongings and her suitcase downstairs and set it somewhere towards the house's foyer, where it hopefully wouldn't be in the way of the other housemates, who were also busy packing up, or in the way of the crew, who were milling about and getting their last shots in.

She knew she was stuck the moment they made eye contact. Freddie's blue, beady eyes narrowed in on her, his frustration with everyone palpable to anyone within a ten foot radius of the guy. She knew what she wanted, and before he could even open his mouth to say something, she stepped into the empty confessional and took a seat, crossing one leg over the other in her jeans and pulling the cuffs of her hoodie over her hands out of habit. She could practically hear him scowling from where he stood. Had he hoped that she would dress a little more provocatively to match the persona that the editors had been trying to create for her for the viewers at home? Probably. A few moments later, she received a signal from Freddie and another crew member that the cameras were rolling and she took a deep breath.

"So...last confessional," Nora started. She took a deep breath, knowing that one of the things Freddie hated most in these things was silence. Dead air didn't make him look good. "It's move out day. I'm packed, I'm ready to go. I'm ready to get back to my life, whatever that might look like now, because I know this is going to change things. They already have.

"It's been...what, about four weeks since we moved in here? And a lot of things have changed since then. My own little world was turned upside down and inside out by all of this. You guys got to watch me live in a fishbowl 24/7. You could watch me sleep if you really wanted to—and if you're one of those weirdos who actually did… Look at your life. Look at your choices," she scolded, her brows furrowed in annoyance.

"There's so much that I want to say. What do you want to know? Did living with nine other people for a month and having all of that broadcast on national television break me? Probably not," she said with a smug smile. "But I know that once I walk out that front door, I'm going to put my bags into a Lyft, and that as I do so, I'm going to be yelled at and screamed at and called every name in the book just for being...well, me. The version of me that the show wants all of you to see, I don't think she exists, so maybe think about that the next time you see one of us around the city and try to throw every name in the book at us. We're not who you think we are, and in fact, we're probably better than that, so just keep your thoughts to yourself."

Someone cleared their throat in the distance. When she looked over to where the sound came from, it seemed clear that Freddie had been trying to get a word in edgewise and actually conduct a proper exit interview, but Nora hadn't followed whatever script it was that he had planned for her. Seeing his disgruntlement satisfied her greatly after all of the troubles that he put the housemates through, and though she really had nothing else to say and just want to get out of there and go home, she wasn't about to let Freddie have the last word with her.

Nora turned to the camera again. "You've probably seen a lot of things on SF Squatters. This awesome house that we got to live in. All the fun stuff that we had access to. But this was more like some weird social experiment than an accurate representation of anyone's lives. Whatever personas the producers fabricated might have you convinced otherwise, but does that really matter?" she asked with a dramatic pause before scrunching up her nose and shaking her head. "Nah."

Freddie opened his mouth and began to ask her a question. "What's ne—"

"What's next," she repeated, steamrolling him over so that he could continue to barely get a word in edgewise. "Well, most of us have jobs and lives and families and friends to get back to, so we'll probably be doing that. I don't want to get into the details of my plans for the next few months because, frankly, that's none of your damn business. But if you need me, which you won't, I'll be at work, eighty hours a week, saving lives."

She looked over at the corner of the confessional room, where Freddie was being silenced and dragged out other crew members. Suddenly, Nora realized that only a bare-bones camera crew existed in the confessional. The remaining crew member offered her a saccharin smile and one lsat question. "What about Supergirl? What we if we need her?"

Nora looked down at her lap and fidgeted with the cuffs of her hoodie, something that she did out of nervous habit and her inability to sit still for too long. "Supergirl," she repeated with a nod, looking just past the camera again, but this time with a glimmer in her eye. "I don't know who you're talking about." And with that, she stood up, walked out of the room, and went on with the rest of her life.