"No," he nods. 

"We are going to start with laps outside,"

I run for about thirty minutes, and Drake encourages me. I feel like I'm going to pass out. I'm not a runner. How my legs carried me here the night I was attacked is still a wonder. 

"Come on, it's just been five minutes," Chuckles Drake. Five! I stop, panting for breath as I look at him, 

"It feels like thirty minutes!"

"I honestly didn't know your strength situation was this bad," he is mocking me, and I pout like a kid, crossing my arms. Maybe he won't torture me with this exercise if I get upset. 

"That pout...