'This is just like life' he thinks, playing the game, 'You can never really win'.
The Giant's Drink. He couldn't win.
No one can. It's impossible.
Every choice leads to death, always violent, always close to traumatic.
No such thing as a happy ending, unless you compare the deaths.
Some weren't so bad- drowning was better than being burned alive; he'd rather be instantly crushed than be slowly dismembered and left to bleed.
But, he'd rather not have to deal with any of that.
'Let me win' he thinks, 'Just let me win, so I don't have to do this anymore'.
It was a silent prayer he had been saying for weeks now. But, always, he came up to the Giant and chose between one of two drinks. And as always, he died, in a manner more gruesome than the one before.
This wasn't going to work. He couldn't beat the damn game.
He remembered how video games back on Earth were ended. You had to either, win, die, or quit. Winning was out of the question. He'd played enough to know that he'd never beat the Giant and his stupid guessing game. Dying wouldn't work either. In the Fantasy Game, once you die, you just restart from wherever you left off, going back slightly after each death. His only option was to quit.
But, he couldn't.
The game haunted him. Even when he didn't have his desk, he played it, watching himself die as he showered, battled, and slept. He couldn't quit the game, not as long as he lived.
'Wait.....'.
As long as he lived. The game was exactly like life, even in the ways it could be ended.
He couldn't quit the game, but he could quit life.
Then he'd never have to deal with the damn Giant or the guessing game or the repeating deaths ever again.
One death, a permanent death, would put a stop to the torture of the never-ending temporary deaths of the game.
It was planned out perfectly. He staged it to look like an accident, but he knew better. The teachers would know the truth.
Would they tell his mother and father that their only son had done this to himself? Maybe.
It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing besides quitting this damn game. He managed to find where they kept the stars for the Battleroom. They were being loaded, being prepared for the next battle. Perfect.
He snuck over to the cranes that lifted the heavy blocks, each at least a ton. The guard keeping them up was weak. A simple knock over the elbow loosed them perfectly. He smiled before feeling his bones crush and his organs contract. Then there was nothing but light.
The next day, Imbu found the boy's body. He knew the truth. He'd analyzed the boy enough to know what was wrong. But, he never expected this to happen. "The first Battle School student to kill himself" he muttered, touching the boy's pale face. "You'll go down in history, Pinual"
Disclaimer: Don't own Ender's Game or Pinual. Orson Scott Card is the God of Enderverse and I would die if I could just meet him.