I got a riddle for you.

What rhymes with champ but makes you feel like the exact opposite of a winner?

Cramp.

And a cramp is exactly what jolted me out of my imperative sleep at 2 AM.

It didn't hurt like some leg cramp as a result of exercising or having your foot in an awkward position for too long; rather, the staggering pain running up my leg to my abdomen and trailing up my arm felt like someone was pulling on my nerves like guitar strings, causing an excruciating pain that left me writhing around the bed.

Eventually, I fell off my bed and just lay there, accepting my fate as the searing pain headed toward a crescendo. 

Five minutes later, I cracked open my eyes and judging by the artificial roof starting back at me, I was indeed alive. 

For better or worse.

I focused on the breathing exercise I had learned while doing pointless research; I guess it wasn't so pointless after all. I inhaled slowly and deeply, mentally counting to four as I sucked in as much air as possible. Next, I held my breath for the same four-count before exhaling to a - you guessed it - four-count. I continued the exercise until it felt like my heart wasn't vibrating like a jackhammer.

Of course, when I opened my eyes I realized a startling fact - I was face to face with my half-opened suitcase.

Dammit.

I sluggishly rolled over to face the door, taking a moment to steel myself through gritted teeth before struggling to my feet and making a mad scramble for the door. I was cold, yet sweating and my body threatened to crash as I wobbled to the door.

My mind drifted past the pain and misery, all the way to the suitcase and the relief within. Just a few pills would this foolery. The desired numbness would follow.

The desired silence.

I struggled with the door knob, my hand slapping against it futilely. The pain had eased when my thoughts wandered to the drugs, but it came back five-fold, demanding I give in and feed myself what my mind wanted.

No, what it needed.

If I died here what would be the point of any of this?

I stopped struggling to open the door and I took a deep breath, soaking in the fresh smell of air freshener and lost hope. I turned around back to the room and it was like if a magical spotlight had been cast on the suitcase, highlighting my target for me.

Who was I even fighting this for?

I took a shaky step forward, my breathing suddenly ragged and rushed as I started to pant. I imagine I sounded like a dog, panting in zeal anticipating my fulfilling meal, ignorant or rather indifferent about the consequences.

I just needed one more validating thought to push me over the edge and of course, my mind was more than ready to provide. A long life's overrated anyway, I thought.

I froze suddenly, the pain in my body no longer comparable to the storm that started to rage in my head.

"A long life's overrated anyway," A man said, laughing at my worried look as he produced his fifth bottle of Whiskey for the day and the clock hadn't even struck 12 yet.

"But what about us?" I asked, looking up at the man. He was short for a man, standing at about 5'10 but at the time he still towered above me. "Mom said you're not allowed to drink that anymore or you'll have to leave..."

The bottle paused en route to the man's mouth and he brought it back down to look at me, really look at me this time. He had this fidgety way of looking at you like he couldn't focus on one thing for a long period of time, but now he seemed to be trying really hard to focus.

"I won't leave you, son. Don't you worry," He ruffled up my hair like he knew I hated. "This bottle will be the last..."

I turned away from the suitcase, a single tear ambushing my tear ducts and traveling down my cheek as I opened the door and escaped into the hallway. 

I pretty much charged down the stairs, refusing to glance back and give my mind more ammunition to convince me that I needed the pills, or worse, surface more memories that I'd rather not relive.

I tried my best to curb the chaos swirling in my head as I made my way down the stairs. I didn't have a destination, but I just knew I needed to get out of that room, hell, the entire building. Maybe I'd vanish into the woods and never be seen again. After all, I watched enough National Geographic to survive about...twenty-four hours. After that I'd have to rely on being adopted by wolves or something.

Not too far-fetched, right?

With that motivational thought in mind, I bounded through the door, my feet operating on auto-pilot as my mind bounced me from one dark corner to another. So engrossed was I in my mind, I only saw a figure sitting on the steps at the very last moment, causing me to stumble awkwardly around them, nearly dislocating my knee in the process.

"You practicing to be a ballerina or something?" A familiarly sarcastic voice asked. "Your form needs some work."

I straightened up and prayed that no tears were visible on my face.

"Shut up," I managed weakly, turning to look at Indigo.

She wore a hoodie with the hood over her head and her hands wrapped around her knees tightly.

"You sound like shit, more so than usual." She glanced up at me. "You look the part too."

I nodded at her. "I see you're speaking from experience."

To my surprise, Indigo actually chuckled. "Did you have a nightmare?'

I narrowed my eyes, trying to decipher if the question came from genuine concern or just because it seemed right to say but then again, Indigo didn't seem the type to say what she thought anyone wanted to hear.

"I just randomly woke up and got sick of the stale smell of my room. This is when I would normally have a smoke and probably head to sleep, but y'know," I replied, positioning myself on the railing adjacent to her.

"That's funny, I was sure all boys lost their sense of smell when it came to the odor from their rooms. Though, I guess it's different for pampered boys."

 I could tell from the way her eyes flicked in my direction she was trying to get a rise out of me. "You're right, I'm accustomed to the scent of roses and dandelions, not animal dung. What's your excuse for being out here in the line of sight of the night animals."

"Insomnia," she said calmly. "Ever since I've weaned myself off drugs, sleep has been hard to come by."

I raised an eyebrow. "We've only been here for two days."

"I have been drug-free for a week now."

I scoffed. "Maybe you didn't get the memo but this camp isn't an attraction. Not that I believe you, anyway."

Indigo shrugged as if to say oh well. "My mother saw me experiencing withdrawal symptoms and decided that she couldn't keep believing in me to get through it myself and signed up for this buffoonery. It's why I'm so against this place; I don't belong here anymore."

"That's funny. I could've sworn the sign said Guide to Sobriety, meaning that it is for former addicts who are trying to overcome their withdrawal symptoms," I said, tapping my head lightly as if I was struggling to remember.

Indigo rolled her eyes. "What I'm saying is I've finished my guide already, I don't need this program."

It was my turn to roll my eyes. I was no Albert Einstein when it came to the probability of resisting the urge to do drugs, heck I usually always satisfied my urges, but considering Indigo still had visible withdrawal symptoms to the point her mother could notice, I couldn't help thinking she'd made the right choice. 

After just one day I was beginning to lose it.

I shrugged, already growing tired of playing the voice of reason. "If you say so."

We drifted into silence and I took the opportunity to pop my AirPods into my ear and looked up at the stars as music started to play. They shone brightly against the dark sky, contrasting the darkness like lighthouse lights to a sailor in a storm, assuring him that he was on the right path.

Or it could just be, you know, stars.

I started humming along to the music out of habit and Indigo tapped me shortly after. I took out an Airpod and looked at her curiously. "What are you listening to?" she asked.

"It's not music with like..lyrics. I like listening to certain people play instruments, or chill Lofi beats, they calm me down," I replied hesitantly. Weirdly enough, I'd never told anyone this - mostly because no one had ever cared to ask.

Indigo adopted a thoughtful expression. "Can I listen?"

"Uh, sure," I replied, momentarily caught off guard. I handed her an AirPod and regained my composure. "Don't tell Amir but nothing beats the therapeutic feeling of real music. He could make some real money from getting results with a good band on deck."

Indigo began to chuckle but caught herself and tried masking it as a scoff. She was really dedicated to this stolid persona. I clicked back on the music and sat down on the other side of the step she was on.

After a while, she turned to me with something akin to a smile. "You planned this didn't you?"

"Sure did," I tapped my temple, "evil genius and all."

After a chuckle that she didn't bother to attempt masking, we sat in sacred silence, the melodic tunes tethering our souls together through the blissful experience as our very souls reacted to the music. In no time my eyes couldn't hold up their weight anymore and I suspected Indigo was in a similar state.

Insomnia - 0, Music - 1.

The feeling of being nudged out of a deep sleep isn't exactly pleasant. In fact, as I attempted to groggily slap away the persistent hand that kept finding it's way to my shoulder to shake it, I started to get frustrated and cracked open an eye ready to clobber my assailant.

Not exactly a good idea.

The sunlight streamed directly into my eye, leaving me shrinking back like a burning vampire.

Was it morning already?

As my eyes struggled to adjust to the morning sun, I noticed Indigo next to me in a similar state of grogginess. Amir stood over us both with his arms crossed, while a couple of our fellow camp-goers/ prisoners watched from a couple feet away.

"What?" I asked the man who clearly had a problem.

"What do you mean what?" He started tapping his foot in 'you're in trouble' fashion. "Don't you have something to say to me?"

"Good morning...?" I offered.

Amir scoffed, throwing up his hands in the air. "You've broken one of the main rules; one of very few rules, may I add, that govern us and ensure your safety in this dangerous environment."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I replied honestly. My eyes flicked toward Indigo, "our clothes stayed on if that's what you're worried about."

"Rule number seven; no one is allowed to leave the building after 10 PM for any unauthorized business." Thor 'helpfully' recited from the crowd.

Whose side was he on anyway?

"Thank you, Thor, if only your other group mates were as responsible as you."

"Technically, they're still on the premises," Mia pointed out from her spot in the crowd. I saw Wyatt shoot a glare her way.

"They are outside the building, regardless, without supervision late at night. Do I really need to point out where we are and how dangerous being out past hours can be?"

"I thought it said on the ad this place was one of the safest woodland areas in the entire country?" Came a worried voice from the crowd.

"And it is, but that doesn't change the fact that it's a woodland area and the necessary supervision is required for maximum safety," Amir stated.

"I'd take my chance with the animals rather than continuing this conversation," Indigo said as she stood up.

Amir clearly wasn't pleased. "From now on, any person or persons caught out past curfew will suffer a 10 point penalty."

That shut us right up.

Amir went on about responsibility and the dangers of not following instructions, especially when health and safety were concerned; basically adult talk that I tuned out. I was beginning to realize Amir was especially skilled at making speeches I could care less about.

"Hey," Indigo started as Amir finally finished his rant and stormed off. "Thanks." She said, handing me back the airpod.

"No problem." A realization hit me. "Wait, is your insomnia cured now?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure it's going to take more than that but it was the best sleep I got in a while, until Bertram over there ruined it anyway."

I smiled. "I guess this proves my theory that music beats any other therapy."

She shrugged. "Maybe."

She walked away without a glance back.

"Goodbye to you too," I muttered to myself.

Wait, did she just make a Jessie reference?

Atlas walked up to me with a big smirk, raising his eyebrows up and down in a teasing manner. "You had a good night, huh?"

"Yeah, sleeping on stairs is always a good indicator of a splendid night."

"It's not what you did," he said, looking pointedly at Indigo's retreating figure. "It's who you did it with."

I punched him lightly on the arm. "Shut up."

I went up to my room, showered and did all the other essentials then came back down just in time for breakfast. Today was a plain black tee sort of day.

Maybe Indigo was rubbing off on me.

The atmosphere in The Pub was tense, and I'm not just talking about our table. People were talking a lot more freely than they had been in days past so it wasn't a problem of familiarity anymore. Rather, as I observed constant itching, groaning, grimacing and longing looks, I realized it was more an issue of everyone being crackheads.

More or less.

The only one who seemed unbothered by the lengthy stay without any type of substance was Atlas, who stayed his bright self, wolfing away at his disgustingly healthy serving.

Maybe the key to happiness really was healthy eating. Guess I'd better gear up for more bumpy roads in that case.

Among the depressingly tense atmosphere, I noticed some dirty looks and glares cast at our table from multiple sources around the room.

"Is it just me or are we receiving a lot of glares," Nellie whispered, looking around not-so-subtly.

"Yeah, it's kind of hard to miss it," Thor commented. He looked pretty uncomfortable, even by his standards.

"Those are the envious stares of losers looking at winners, probably magnified by the fact that we're closest to getting the prize they all desire," Indigo said, sticking her fork in her untouched waffle for the hundredth time. "It's nothing to feel self-conscious about - it's a privilege really."

"But I don't feel like a winner," Thor said, still shrinking under the glares. "I didn't even participate."

"Don't be foolish!" Nellie shrieked. "You wore Delta on your chest and cheered us on, even when it was something that was out of your comfort zone. Even from the track I heard you cheering as I ran."

"A lot of help that did," Indigo remarked, causing Atlas and I to snicker quietly. "However," Indigo continued, turning her hard gaze on Thor who looked downright terrified. "Knowing your limitations and accepting your role could contribute to winning, I guess."

Did I just witness Indigo say something semi-uplifting?

The mind boggles.

I tuned out the rest of the convo which somehow ended up on the topic should weed be classified as a drug but I was way too tired to join in.

My social battery was at a resounding zero which potentially had something to do with the resurgence of my head-splitting migraine.

I definitely wasn't looking forward to our group therapy session later...