“Get up, training starts in five.” Your commander’s eyes are fierce, almost as if they’re plagued by your presence at this very moment.

You got your period: it’s bad. It hurts to move, nausea overcoming your senses when you try to eat. It isn’t exactly ideal.

“I’ve already informed y—“

“Get. Up.” His harsh words cut your sentence off quickly, not having any sympathy for you or your pain. You’re expected to be there regardless.