" The mile counter on the treadmill hit six miles and I surrendered. I turned off the machine and slumped into a hot, sweaty pile on the floor. “What’s wrong, Lace?” “I hate you, that’s what’s fucking wrong, you stupid douchebag!” He just started chuckling and continued to run for the next hour. I didn’t move from my spread eagle position on the ground. I didn’t care that people had to step over me to get to the rows of treadmills and other gym equipment. They could go fuck themselves if they had a problem with it "

― H.J. Bellus , Tripp (My Way, #2)