From the Top

Exhaustion. It was the only thing swirling in his mind. Heavy eyes glared up at the wooden ceiling, the tiny wood fibers staring back. The gushing of the water pouring from the cliff provided a calming ambiance, yet it proved useless. Branches and leaves gently rustled as a gentle morning breeze blew through the forest. These wooden walls, despite not being entirely warm, still granted him shelter and protection from the elements. Either way, it was much better than being stuck in the open or the cave. All of the soothing melodies mocked the poor backpack.

Oh, how badly he wanted to sleep, rest his eyes even. Yet his own mind continuously betrayed him, rushing with racing thoughts around denying him every ounce of melatonin he craved. How long had he been here? Did it even matter at this point? He lost count long ago, correction, he gave up counting. He tried once, the shift system that Amanda planned out.

That was her name, right...? He could barely remember it now, but it felt correct. That little green candle he was once trapped with, he could never forget her. On the Plane, she helped them keep track of the passage of time. Once communication was restored between them all, he attempted to replicate it, especially after Texty passed. He never did find his charger...

After the last contestant got sent home, after the hope of ever returning home dwindled. Well, the passage of time felt meaningless. What was the point of keeping track of something as pointless as time? What was the point of it all, when nothing changed? When each passing second, each mark was just a persistent, painful reminder of his permanent imprisonment here. The constant reminder of the life he once knew, gone, stripped away because of him. That lantern. He just stopped marking up the walls, letting the days pass and blur together.

He shifted around, grains of reeds pricking his back and sides as they jammed onto his fabric. Uncomfortable? Yes, but he was used to it; at least it provided some comfort from the hard wooden surface. He stared at the entrance, gazing at the forest, the air was warm enough to go out despite the wind, and the sun barely peeked over the cliffs. Did he even want to get up today? Apart from the exhaustion, there wasn't much to do around here. Well, except for his new little project, his next 'great plan' that will send him back to Earth. He had been so motivated to complete it, yet his motivation had been dwindling. It was harder to get out of bed, even with his leg now healed. A part of him was distancing himself from what newfound hope he had gained from his new idea. He was so close to finishing it... But for now, he just wanted to go to sleep and get a good night's rest for just one day. Maybe that would make him feel better. Countless hours spent rotting away on that makeshift bed, sleep taunting him as he lay awake.

He shut his eyes tightly as he desperately attempted to let his mind succumb to sleep. His body was aching, begging to gain even the slightest bit of rest. Grinding his teeth, he gripped onto the reeds seeking comfort in what little was left for him. If he lay there for a while longer, maybe he would manage to get some sleep. Yet the morning sun had other plans, its rays peeking into the cabin. Its warm yet harsh embrace shone on his face.

"Ugh."

He groaned as he reopened his eyes, shielding his face from the sun, squinting. Sitting upright, he gave up on the notion of sleep. Too exhausted to sleep, he might as well finish his little project.

Picking out stray reeds from his fabric, he tossed them aside, stretching out his limbs. He glanced around the cabin, taking in all that he inherited from Airy. Nothing much, which he expected; the bland, uncomfortable furniture, the cold, lonely nights by the campfire, and the cave.

"At least Airy left behind the shelter."

That was the only positive thing that he could thank Airy for in this situation he was in. He stared at the grass, sunlight glistening as it illuminated the tiny blades gently swaying as the wind outside slowed. He had the whole day ahead of him, even if he didn't feel like it; he didn't want to spend another second cramped in this small room. Grabbing his crutch, he slid off the bed, slightly wincing as pressure formed on his leg. Despite being healed, a lack of proper medical attention, unhealthy sleep schedules, and the amateur cast meant it didn't properly heal. Though less compared to when he first got the injury, each step occasionally felt as if a needle pierced through his nerves.