An acceleration of pain to his stomach was not a pleasurable way for Liam to wake up. He groaned cracking his eyes open to see a few of his cabin mates gathered around staring and laughing at him and the boy who had hit him. Moaning he pulled his blankets up to his chest and rolled over. He was sick of all the pranks the other kids would pull on him while he slept.
In the back of his mind he could hear feet shuffling around the bunks, far more than the group that pranked him. This couldn't be happening. He was too tired. Please don't let it be morning. He listened to the group of boys around him laughing at his reluctance to get up. It wasn't his fault he felt like he was dying.
He sniffled and coughed as the decision caused a searing rip in his throat. He raised a shaking hand to it as he swallowed forcefully. His attempt to get up failed when pain spiked in his head so strongly that he was forced to lay back down. Why did this have to happen to him?
The answer was obvious really. Not doing well in training meant you got to the showers last, leaving no hot water for you. After weeks of cold showers, it was a sure bet that eventually some kind of illness would catch up with him.
He wondered if he would just be able to stay in bed and sleep until someone found him. Would they know to look for him? The thought was short lived when he realised that of course they would notice, he didn't have the most squeaky-clean record anyway. And besides, someone in his bunk room would rat him out.
The fact that he was sporting a wicked fever became apparent to him as his sat down alone at breakfast. His whole body felt flushed and his muscles ached and shook as he raised the spoon with his cereal to his mouth. He wasn't hungry, but he knew that at least one instructor would be monitoring him and his food intake, so he ate as much as he could. Plus, he knew he needed energy for training.
The sound of the sparing sticks clattering together was almost enough to drive him insane, the pounding in his head was disorientating. His own stick he was holding was slippering with his sweat and the weak grip his hands could manage. His clammy limbs shook so bad that it was like he was in a constant seizure. He inwardly begged for someone to notice and send him from training and back to bed. But he knew no such luck would come, he would have to die first.
His pulse echoing in his ears was only just unable to cover the sound of Instructor Morgan yelling for him to 'use some fucking offence!'
He shut his eyes and shook his head trying to rid of the fuzzy spots clouding his vision. Opening his eyes, he reacted just in time to block Gibbons's jab at him. The startled breath he'd sucked in caught in his throat and invisible hands gripped at his chest sending him into a coughing fit. Breathless he stumbled backwards before leaning against his stick as support. Pain in his head and chest spiked as he gasped for breath.
Gibbons stopped sparring and stepped away in horror, unsure of what to do. But after a look towards the Instructor watching in annoyance, he knew the answer. Wasting no time Gibbons hooked the end of his stick around behind Liam's ankle and pulled forwards.
Liam felt the rush or air pass by him as he fell backwards, he was sure the thud of his back hitting the mat echoed through the room. A cry of pain would have escaped his lips had the wind not been knocked out of him. When precious air was once again allowed to flow through his lungs, it was obstructed as the previous coughing fit was intensified. His body convulsed as each cough tore through his body, he was barely able to cover them with the back of his hand as his ribs were repeatedly lifted off the ground from the force of them.
The breathlessness and the pain left him feeling like he would be sick long after the fit had ended. Energy had been stripped from him and all he could do was lie on the ground, vaguely aware that everyone was watching him. But they wouldn't help him up, they couldn't, and even if he could speak, he wouldn't ask them to.
He's left lying there as Instructor Morgan yells for the end of sparring practice. He feels himself being rolled off the mat as Gibbons picks it up to wipe it down. Pressing his face against the cold concrete floor is a lame attempt to cool his fever, but he can't do anything else.
By the time he's able to push himself up into a ball, they've long cleared out for the cool down run. Raising a shaking hand to his sweating forehead to brush away the hair from his face, he thinks he should get going.
As he stands, he is sure that if anyone was watching him, they'd be able to make the comparison between him and a new-born lamb. Shaking violently his legs carry him along the route to run around the garage.
Liam is not a crier, but he's so exhausted that now he wants to. Habit carries him as the fuzzy spots in his eyes turn to black. He feels too hot and his headache spikes every time his feet hit the ground. If he was breathless before, he's breathless now, the frequent cough erupts from his lungs starving him of much need oxygen to function.
Deprived of breath a dizzy spell knocks him over, knees collapsing underneath him. Pain splits his skull as the black spots almost completely consume his vision. A deep cough rumbles inside him so that he leaves whatever breakfast he was able to consume in a bush.
He doesn't remember getting back up or finishing the run. The next point he registers is him with his feet stumbling through the hallway towards Cole's room. The few people milling around give him a wide berth as pitches towards an empty wall, his body trying to cough his lungs out.
He doesn't even know if Cole will be there or if he'd help him, he'd been telling Liam for months that he needs to toughen up. Also, he followed the League's rules and protocols to the T. The thoughts still wracked his brain as he reached Cole's room.
He barely had time to knock on the door before it swung open to reveal his brother standing there wide eyed, but otherwise a blank expression on his face. Liam didn't know what to do, had this been a mistake and he should turn around?
In the end his exhaustion won out and he collapsed crying into his brother's arms.