Spotlight

16

Tw:
This chapter will contain mentions of domestic abuse, as well as downplaying of abuse. Please if you or anyone you know suffer from abuse talk to someone. Speak up and never be afraid or ashamed to ask for help!

***
The race was going great, phenomenally actually. In contrast to the rainy qualifying we had had the race held nothing but clear skies and the occasional gentle breeze. The energy around the track was surely something to remember. The air was almost buzzing with excitement and the stands were filled with fans, rooting for their home hero Daniel Ricciardo. The Aussie whom I had lapped on my 15th lap. I almost felt bad for him, it was not his fault that the McLaren he had to drive was slower than a tractor.

The race was going brilliantly. It was lap 34 and I was leading. My body was feeling giddy with the new sensation, leading an f1 race- even if just for a few moments is something to cherish for the rest of your life. I had managed to overtake Max when he had to box during lap 26 since the team had pitted me first. This obviously did not mean that the Dutch was going to let the win slip out of his grasp. We were coming out of turn 3 and into turn 4 and he was hot on my heels.

Luckily for me I had to focus so hard on defending from the reigning world champion that not a single thought outside of racing could enter my mind. Had I not been laser focused on racing my mind would surely have been occupied with a thousand thoughts.

The pressure was on. I had gone through two races so far where I had completely different results, one dnf and one podium. I am the third youngest f1 driver through history, of course being bested by Bastard-Max and Daddy's-money-Lance.

As I was about to hit the apex of turn 15 in a way that would make anyone who knew anything about racing fawn a red Ferrari suddenly appeared on the inside of my racing line, pushing me to leave space all while taking mine. The first thing that hit me was confusion- I had not been alerted that Max had been overtaken. The second thing passing through my mind was fury- the red Ferrari of Carlos Sainz had driven too close to me, effectively chipping of a part of its front wing against my left rear tyre and giving me a fast puncture. I couldn't help the scream of frustration I let out as the cars started to pass me.

From there all I could do really was defend for my life until I finally got back to the pit entry. Of course with my luck the pit stop was an entire shit show of its own, first there was some issue with the tyre change so the stop took five seconds instead of two and second I ended up exiting the pit lane behind the orange McLaren of Daniel Ricciardo. That's right, I was down to position 16.

Even though I pushed as hard as I dated throughout the rest of the race I crossed the line in a pathetic 12th. Something I would surely have nightmares about for months.

***
As his eyes locked with mine through the crowded garage I felt chills erupt over the entirety of my body. The hairs on my neck stood straight and my body followed suit, stiffening into an almost slouched position. His eyes were scrutinizingly hard, seething with rage and his jaw was locked, sporting the emotion I had seen in them so many times before. To no avail I tried to cower into myself and self soothe by wrapping my arms around my stomach and fighting to get my fingers to stop shaking. As he neared I settled for hiding my hands behind my back since they refused to stop shaking. It's the same look he always has when I don't race to his standards or expectations. It's the look that tells me I'm in for it when he gets to me. The look that scared me when I was younger and possibly scares me even more now.

I closed my eyes for a split second and when I opened them again he was right in front of me, scowling down at me as if I was the most repulsing thing to exist. I could not help but physically flinch, something that only seemed to fuel his anger.

"What. The. Fuck. Was. That" His voice sounded eerily calm as he grabbed onto my bicep and started pulling me towards my changing room. I tied my best to suppress the wince wanting to emerge as his bruising grip only tightened the closer we got to the door. I desperately tried to look around, searching for anyone or anything that could save me. My efforts were no use, nobody seemed to notice anyway. The tight grip on my arm would definitely be leaving those small familiar bruises that I would have to hide for the upcoming few days.