Doomed - Charles Leclerc

15

-Aurora-

Aurora ran through the pitlane, her vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes. Trying to navigate through the crowd as swiftly as possible, she finally reached the exit. As she entered the still empty parking lot, she attempted to call Kika, but received no answer. Seated on the pavement, she felt utterly lost in this world. Why did she have to lose her memories? Everything would have been perfect if that hadn't happened. Frustrated with herself and the car accident, she kicked a rock, watching it fly through the air and land on a very expensive McLaren Senna. Shit.

"Hey what the fuck do you think you're do- oh, Barlowe, are you alright?" a male voice inquired. Did he just call her by her last name? Looking up at the man with curls standing in front of her, she recognized him. Wanting to apologise to the car owner, she quickly stood up.

"I am so sorry; I never meant to kick that rock against your car," she apologised, her eyes still red from the tears.

"It's okay; it didn't even leave so much as a scratch," he assured her with a kind voice. Nodding, she turned around and decided to find a taxi.

"Barlowe?" he called out to her. She turned around slowly, wondering why he kept calling her by her last name.

"Yes?"

"Are you okay?" he asked, his face dimly lit by the lone lamppost in the parking lot.

She hesitated before answering, "I don't know."

Then it was his turn to hesitate before speaking again, "Do you remember me?"

"Norris, right?" she asked, her eyes big and confused. He took a step closer.

"When did we meet?" he asked quietly, not accusingly.

"We've never met before," she told him, and his eyes closed for a moment too long.

She sighed, "We've met before, haven't we?"

"We have," he admitted, unsuccessful in hiding the disappointment in his voice.

"I'm sorry, I don't-"

"-remember, I know," he told her.

"I'm sorry about your car," she said, shooting him an apologetic smile.

"It's just a car, Barlowe," he laughed, rolling his eyes.

"My name is Aurora, you know," she said with an indignant voice.

"I know, I just like Barlowe better; it's what we do," he said as he walked towards his car.

"That's not fair because I don't remember that."

"I know, but I do," he told her as he opened the door to the passenger's seat.

"I'll drop you off wherever you're staying; you shouldn't be out here all alone at night."

Aurora hesitated, looking at her phone. Kika still hadn't answered.

"Unless you have another ride," he told her as he still held the door open.

"I know you?" she asked, not wanting to sound too distrusting.

"You know me," he assured her. Sounding sincere, she got into his car and let him drop her off at the hotel.

"Are you coming to the race tomorrow?" he asked as he stopped the car in front of the main entrance.

"I'm not sure," she honestly told him.

"I might see you tomorrow then," he said as she stepped out of his car.

"Goodnight, Norris."

"Goodnight then, Barlowe."

-

After a long shower, Aurora finally lay peacefully in bed. She turned off the lights and picked up her phone, discovering a message, which could only be from two people: Pierre or Kika. Her bet was on the latter. She had foolishly left her phone back in Monaco, prompting her to purchase a new one in Miami. This way, she could still reach Kika if needed, although the girl seldom answered when she was needed. Aurora quickly texted Kika, informing her that she had returned safely.

Putting away her phone, the darkness of the hotel room began to encroach on her. She tossed and turned, unable to stop thinking about what she had witnessed in the Ferrari garage earlier that day. She pondered whether she should inform Charles that she was there and had seen it. However, she didn't know how to do so. She didn't have his phone number memorised, and he obviously wasn't in her contacts on this phone. So, even if she wanted to, she couldn't.

She wondered what it would be like to be consumed with love, love for him. She knew she probably had been if she had decided to marry him. Suddenly, she felt empathy for him. Though she didn't know what she had lost, he certainly did. Perhaps that's why he sought love from someone else. She just wished he would have talked to her about it instead of shutting her out and turning to someone else. She knew he had been miserable over the last couple of weeks. He barely ate and always wore a sad smile. It felt like everything she did was wrong, like it was not enough for him. She knew it was wrong, but somewhere, she wished they had been in that car accident together. Building something when both have zero context is a lot easier than when one has all the context and the other none.

What was she going to do tomorrow? She didn't know. She would figure out tomorrow when tomorrow arrived. For now, her eyes felt heavy, and moments later, she drifted off to sleep.