Her breath was coming in desperate gasps, she wasn’t able to get enough oxygen into her lungs.
She doubled over for a moment to rest, sucking at the air.
“Nearly there, ten more,” he said.
She glanced up at him with a look of exhausted hatred. He tried to look encouraging, but it came off as a smirk, he shrugged.
She dropped back down into a crouch, her legs kicking out behind her as she moved into a plank, she lowered her body onto the floor, lifted her hands off the ground, immediately braced her hands back beside her, did a push up, jumped back into a crouch, and forced her legs to power her back up to standing. She took a deep breath, prepared herself, and jumped over the weights bar.
“One”, he said.
Oh god, I’m never going to make it she thought as she dropped back down to the ground. His occasional positive comments and cheer leading grated on her nerves but she didn’t have the energy to tell him to shut up.
Her ninth was a mess and her tenth laughable. Limbs everywhere, shaking, barely under control, all her movements clumsy and slow and awkward.
“Ten!” he declared. “Great job!”
She leaned up against the nearest wall, her chest heaving, legs trembling. She wondered if she was going to be sick.
He brought her water. She took it, small sips slipping down her throat between the raspy breaths.
She pointed to the floor in front of her. He dropped to his knees, looking up at her. He looked proud. It pissed her off.
She slapped him across the face. There was no force behind it, she had no strength left. He laughed. She tried not to laugh herself, it was so ludicrous. She slapped him again.
“That’s for…” she was so fucking exhausted she couldn’t even get the words out.
He smiled broadly up at her, pride written across his face. “I know,” he said.
She slapped him again.
“Thank you, Ma’am.”