SHAMELESS, lewis hamilton¹

28

I love your comments. The amount of motivation I get from seeing your reactions actually baffles me sometimes. So please, do keep them coming.

She had a panic attack.

She had barely gotten through the door before it her like a tsunami. Her breaths had been constricted, barely being able to get air down to her lungs. All she felt was pain. Her chest burned, her throat burned. Everything burned. She was on fire, but it wasn't good fire, it was agonising and never-ending.

Her head was filled with voices and eternal screaming. Every hateful thought that she had received throughout her life all went on a loop over and over until she was sure she was going insane.

She heard her own voice the most. Herself blaming her for what happened, amongst other not-so-positive things. She had blamed herself so much over the years. She should have known better than to go for a late-night drive after having drunk as much as they had. The reporter was right, she should have known better. She should have stopped it, but she didn't and now two of her childhood friends and her twin brother were dead.

She should have died with them.

But she hadn't. The fact had felt like an open wound at that time, that was bleeding and bleeding. Everlasting. She couldn't handle it, so it was like she stuffed it with anything she could find to stop it. She stuffed it until it finally stopped and slowly but surely the wound healed. It took a while, years, and finally now she was starting to feel alright again.

The problem was because of the fact that she so desperately wanted the pain to stop, her wound didn't heal properly. And all it took was a little tug for the blood to come rushing out.

Her body was filled with pain and screaming, and it was all she could see. She didn't feel anything, almost like she was floating somewhere, far far away.

Then she felt the warmth of his touch on her shoulder and it fell silent. The voices and the screaming stopped.

But she still couldn't breathe.

It was all a blur. Except for his eyes. The warmness of his dark brown eyes calmed her down. And suddenly she remembered where she was. She felt the floor under her, the bed behind her and the firmness of his chest under her cold palm.

Then he pulled her into his arms and she didn't know what to do. She just felt him around her, his warmth burning her, but it felt good—safe—and she melted completely.

She didn't understand what had happened. She hadn't cried for nearly a decade, not for trying because she had, but it never worked. It only brought her more pain and frustration. But now suddenly she cried and cried, and it felt so undeniably good.

She cried for what felt like hours, until she eventually calmed down.

She should have pulled away, apologised for ruining his shirt and for him having to deal with her like this. But she didn't want to. She just wanted to stay right there, where she felt warm and safe.

The next day she wanted to ignore him, but she wasn't completely sure either. But he decided for her, and they didn't talk about it. It was like he understood that she wasn't comfortable talking about it.

It made her slightly confused as she was used to him always making her talk about things that he knew made her uncomfortable or flustered. Well... that was at least how she saw it.

So instead of focusing on the breakdown yesterday she concentrated on racing and getting data and the best results in the free practices.

She got P1 in every single one. She was flying, her laps practically perfect. She hadn't felt like this in a while or driven like she is right now, not since Formula 2.