Chapter 91

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sorry it's been so long, as mentioned in the update before this I took a break to get chapters under my belt

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sorry it's been so long, as mentioned in the update before this I took a break to get chapters under my belt. unfortunately, i wasn't able to do this. i'll go into a bit of detail in the a/n at the end of the chapter, but just know it'll have a very heavy trigger warning.

anyway, because it's been so long i'm expecting engagement to suck so please please please vote, comment, and share! it really does mean so much to me and shows that you're enjoying my work <3

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A> 'Fuck guys, no power.'


T> 'Can you bring it back?'


A> 'I have no acceleration.'


T> 'Pull up where there's marshals. Sorry, kid.'

I let out a heavy sigh as the rest of the field took avoiding action of my slow moving Mercedes. After a weekend of car troubles, such as a fire on my overheating brakes in practice, steering issues, a general lack of pace, and the right balance feeling as if it was impossible to achieve, it should come as no surprise that my US Grand Prix was over before I had even completed the formation lap. I'd blame it on being personally cursed if these woes hadn't cursed both of our cars. Lewis had been dealing with the exact same issues as I had. The only upside to a retirement this early on is that I'm saved from the embarrassment of being overtaken by midfield cars, which looked entirely possible given my weekend up until now.

There was a gap in the fence near turn twelve which I aimed my car for, willing that the residual momentum would carry me through the gap as to not delay the start. I ended up coming to a halt just as the rear wing of my car was behind the barrier. The car wouldn't need to be manoeuvred any more so I removed my steering to make it easier for me to climb out, and then placed it on my seat delicately once I was out.

My frustration was almost entirely internalised and wasn't reflected on my facial features and so I didn't mind removing my helmet. There were cheers from the adjacent grandstands as people stood up and craned their necks just to get a glimpse of the championship leader out of a race before it had even begun. After wiping the sweat that had already started to form on my hairline, I waved a semi-enthusiastic hand. Temperatures here were scorching. As I undid the top of my race suit and pulled it off to tie around my waist, my jaw clenched at the scattered wolf whistles from the crowd. A middle finger in their direction wouldn't go down well with Lizzie, who was still filling in as my media manager, and so I restrained myself.

"We're trying to arrange you transport back to the paddock now, but it's a little difficult because we're on the outside of the circuit," a marshal said, leading me towards some fold-up chairs arranged around an parasoled table. Tattoos were visible all the way up his arms and wrapped underneath the bright orange fabric of his safety vest.

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