"Again."
Blake collapsed onto the floor.
His arms trembled violently as he tried to push himself up. Sweat dripped from his forehead, landing on the gym floor beneath him.
He couldn't breathe.
No, seriously, he physically couldn't breathe.
His lungs felt like they had been replaced with burning coals.
"Myles," he wheezed. "I think I'm dying."
"It doesn't matter."
"I'm so tired..."
"Do it again."
Blake let out a pathetic groan.
Myles looked relatively calm, as if this wasn't torture. As if Blake wasn't currently experiencing all seven stages of death simultaneously.
With a noise that vaguely resembled human suffering, Blake pushed himself up and somehow completed another push-up.
Immediately afterward, his arms gave out, his face slamming into the floor.
"You didn't do the last one fully."
The scenery around him suddenly shifted.
The school track appeared beneath his feet.
"Run."
Blake looked down the seemingly endless track.
"...H-how many laps?"
