I stretched my arms up high, stretching as far as I could. Then brought them down, bending at the waist so that I could reach my feet. I was pretty flexible, so I could reach them with ease. Despite my wavering health, I still retained my flexibility.

We had all lined up outdoors, in an opened space just outside the football field. Today, the class would be running the mile. It was a monthly event, normally held on a Friday; though we were running it a few days late, on Monday, due to recent weather.

In most normal high schools, students would spend a good portion of gym class outdoors, however, since it was always raining here, we spend most of the time indoors, in the gymnasium.

Today was one of the few days it wasn’t raining, as such, it was one of the few days we could hold gym class outdoors. The weather wasn’t exactly clear, but it shouldn’t rain until later today. Which meant we weren’t getting out of running this time.

It’s been a month now, since school started, here in this city. The days had begun to cool, as summer was coming to an end. Fall was just around the corner. Said to bring with it more rain.

After the class finished stretching, the coach opened the gates to the football field and we began to walk inside.

In order to make the most use of limited space, a track had been built around the perimeters of the football field. Approximately four laps around the red, multi-lane track equaled one mile.

I had never run a mile before, at least on a track – thought I may have run more before without even realizing. I used to be relatively active, but ever since moving here, I haven’t really been doing much of anything.

Before this might have been a breeze, but now, it seemed quite the daunting task. Looking at how wide the field stretched out, I wondered if I could even do it.

The sky was partially cloudy, but none of the clouds were covering the sun. It seemed we would have to run the mile under its blazing rays. I would just have to hope the wind would blow and drift a cloud over the sun, casting shade over the track.

As unlikely as that were to happen.

Everyone lined up at the starting line, to begin running the mile. There was no time limit in which you had to finish, but after a set time it would no longer count as passing. Though, you could only get that bad of a time if you walked the whole thing.

As long as I put in some effort, I should be fine. Even so, I didn’t want to be one of the last ones to finish.

The coach blew her whistle, signaling the start of the run. I kicked off the ground and took off sprinting.

At first, I was doing a good job of keeping up with the group at the front – save for a few overachievers. But slowly, I began to fall further and further behind. With each passing lap, I’d fall further toward the back. I tried to keep up, forcing myself to sprint faster, panting as I breathed irregularly. I puffed my chest in an attempt to get in more oxygen, yet still felt as if I was suffocating.

I slowed my pace, as my head began to buzz. My limbs felt numb and my body light. My vision was hazy. The people passing me by all seemed like a blur. And, to a degree, I felt disorientated.

Even so, I continued to move forward, dragging my feet, unsure of why I was even doing so. It didn’t even feel like I was walking anymore, I felt as if I was floating, in a ghostly fashion. Despite my numbed senses, I could still feel my chest, pulsating, feeling as if it was about to burst.

It hurt. I hurt just to breathe. Every breath felt painful.

Feeling as if I was going to collapse, I came to a complete stop. I bent my knees, placing my hands against them for support as I leaned forward. I tried to take in deep breaths, to re-stabilize, but doing so proved to be difficult.

Just as I began to sink into despair, the sky darkened and water droplets began to fall. Not slowly nor gradually, but, all at once, pour from the sky. My body, once covered in sweated, had, in seconds, become drenched by the rain.

I cooled as rain ran down my exhausted body. I stood up straight, with difficulty, still panting, and tried to look around.

Hazed figures scattered in the distance, and I could hear disassociated voices shrieking, screaming, complaining about the rain. An older sounding voice, the voice of the coach, seemed to be directing them, but I couldn’t make out the words. Nor the direction the sound was coming from.

And then… I collapsed.

…

I opened my eyes slowly. My body felt heavy, my muscles tense. I was disorientated and wasn’t sure where I was. I wasn’t sure how I had gotten here, nor what I was doing before.

White curtains surrounded me on all sides, except the back – which was a wall. The bed I laid on was covered in white sheets and had an unusual stiffness to it. It was almost like those at a clinic.

I tried to sit up slowly but was instantly met with a sharp headache. It felt as if I was being stabbed by tiny needles. I cried out in pain, as I pressed my hand over the part of my head that was aching.

“Don’t sit up…” said a voice, as one of the curtains was drawn open. On the other side was a girl, with short black hair and brown eyes, wearing a dark tracksuit. Her voice was light and had a timid tone to it. “Sit back down, you’ll feel better.”

I followed her instructions without really questioning anything. Despite still feeling disorientated, I felt as if I would be okay if I did as she said. Perhaps it was her demeanor or the softness of her voice, but she had a strange way of inspiring trust in others.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

I shook my head, too tired to respond properly.

“Here, take this,” she said, handing me a pill and a glass of water, “It’ll help with the headache.” I swallowed the pill in one gulp, but continued to gulp down the rest of the water in the cup.

“If you’re still thirsty drink this, it’ll replenish your electrolytes and carbohydrates” she said, as she handed me a bottled sports drink. I drank from it, this time slower. The cool drink refreshed my throat, as beads of condensation ran along the outside of the bottle.

“Do you remember what happened?”

I did, or at least I was starting to. I had passed out while running the mile. It seemed someone had carried me to the infirmary while I was unconscious, and, judging by the school uniform I was wearing, had changed me too.

That thought caused me to become embarrassed.

As if noticing, she spoke up, “D-don’t worry! It was the nurse that changed you. She’s out right now so I’m sitting in for her.” Her cheeks were flushed and her voice flustered, as if she was feeling embarrassed for me. I smiled as best I could, trying to ease her nerve.

Or perhaps that wasn’t the real reason. Perhaps it was natural, out of happiness. A genuine yet weary smile. But when I thought about it, it was sad. This was the first conversation I had had with someone since coming here. The first time smiling in a long time.

…

Somewhere along our conversation, I was overtaken by the exhaustion and drowsiness and drifted back to sleep. When I awoke, it was already five in the afternoon. She had left, of course, but it didn’t seem as if the nurse had come back yet.

As I awoke, I noticed almost immediately that it had gotten warmer. Or rather, I had gotten warmer. I was wearing a jacket, the same kind she had on.

There was a note sticking out from one of the pockets. I pulled it out and unfolded it.

It’ll be fall soon, keep warm.

…

That was on Monday… it was Friday now. The week had come and passed. Another meaningless, empty week. Eventful, in the sense that it was as chaotic as ever. Yet it was all still the same, every day was the same.

Day after day, I only grew more tired and weak. I’d come to hate this place, this city. The longer I stayed here, the more bitter I became.

The illusion had long since shattered, and now I laid on the ground covered in its shards. They tore into me, and I was slowly bleeding out.

Why’d I even come here? Or rather…. I can’t even go back.

If so, where do I go? What do I do? Should I just…

I was torn away from these thoughts, as my phone began to ring.

Without bothering to check the caller ID, I picked it up feebly and faintly spoke into the phone. “…hello…”

“It’s been a while… Finn.”

I recognized that voice, how could I not? That familiar voice, I wished I didn’t have to hear right now. I was filled with dread, as I carefully chose my next words.

“It really has, hasn’t it… Dad.”

Reflective of his personality, he talked with a soft voice, slowly as he always had. “Your mother’s ‘ere too, I’ll put ‘er on speaker.” He had a thick country accent, the kind you hear in the movies; but his slow manner of speech made it easy to understand what he was saying, even to those that weren’t used to that accent.

“Finn, are you there?” said a different voice, a lighter yet sharper voice, the voice of my mother.

“Hey, mom…”

“How have you been? It’s been so long? Have you been busy? Why haven’t you called? How’s the city? Are you adjusting alright? Are you eating properly? Your voice sounds weak, are you getting sick? Are you already sick? Are you taking medicine…”

I was bombarded with a continuous rain of questions. Before I could answer the previous question, she had already asked a new one. I had to answer with simple hums – hm and mh-hmm.

I had made the mistake of letting my exhaustion show in my voice, not to mention I hadn’t called them since moving here, of course she would be worried. Even so, this level of worrying was uncalled for. It was the first time I had heard here like this. Her voice sounded frantic and unstable.

It was my fault. I’m the one who caused her to feel like that. Just how selfish was I, this whole time I had only been focused on my own problems. Even before coming here, I hadn’t even considered how it would make them feel. I had only cared about what I wanted.

I changed the tone of my voice, forcing myself to speak in a cheerful manner. I answered all her questions, addressed each of her concerns, and his as well. I told them everything was alright, that I was fitting in perfectly and living a fulfilling life here.

“I’ll be honest,” I lied, “classes are hard,” holding in my anxieties and frustrations, “and at times it can be a little overwhelming,” hiding my insecurities and chocking back my tears, “But you know what…” Forcing a smile, as a single tear escaped my left eye.

“I’m happy.”