The Boy Who Suffered Too Much

The evening air hung heavy with the scent of earth and sweat. My blade rested lazily over my shoulder as I watched Cole collapse onto the ground, gasping for breath like a fish out of water. His shirt clung to his skin, damp with effort, and his once-defiant eyes were now filled with sheer exhaustion.

"Is this it?" I barked, my tone sharp enough to make him flinch. "Is this all the will the so-called personal bodyguard of the Ford household has?"

He sucked in air, his chest heaving as he tried to push himself up. His arms trembled, and after a few feeble attempts, he plopped back down with a groan. "We've been at it since high noon," he managed between breaths. "I didn't even want to train today, but someone thought it'd be a brilliant idea to drag me out here the moment I could walk properly again."