C47 An apple?

IRA

Dexter didn't go easy on me.

"Come on," he said a few metres away from me. "You can do better than this."

I sat on the floor, unable to move my legs.

"No more running," I gritted, trying to catch my breath from running on the treadmill for three hours.

THREE BLOODY HOURS. He was trying to kill me.

"Your legs need more work," Dexter said. I could tell he was seconds away from laughing