everything has changed ➺ charles leclerc

twenty-four - charles

We push through the crowd of personnel, making our way towards the black smoke. We must look ridiculous, still dressed in our full race attires, bar helmet and balaclava. The closer we get towards the source of the fire, the more my heart drops. 

It's the Ferrari Motorhome.

There are groups of firefighters already on the scene, battling the fierce flames that consume the structure. The crackling sound of fire and the acrid smell of smoke fill the air, heightening our sense of urgency. We scan the area frantically, searching for any sign of her amidst the chaos.

My mind races with worry, imagining the worst-case scenarios. Images of her trapped inside the burning building haunt my thoughts, fueling my determination to find her. I dart my gaze from one firefighter to another, hoping to catch a glimpse of her familiar face.

I see Daniel, George, Pierre, and Lando standing a few meters away from me, their presence providing a semblance of familiarity amid the chaos. With determined strides, I hastily make my way towards them, knowing that they have likely been here longer than I have, gathering crucial information.

"Is everyone out?" I shout above the cacophony of noise, my voice strained with concern.

"Supposedly everyone is, but they're still checking inside," Daniel shouts back, his words barely audible amidst the chaos.

"Have you seen her?" I ask, desperation seeping into my voice.

"Yeah, she was by Sylvia the last time I saw her!" Pierre replies loudly, gripping my trembling hand in his, offering me a glimmer of reassurance.

"Come on, we'll take you," George offers, his voice laced with determination.

Together, Pierre, George, and I maneuver through the sea of people, our senses assaulted by the acrid smoke hanging in the air. I press my hand firmly against my mouth, desperately trying to shield my lungs from its harmful embrace. We navigate through the swirling crowd, our eyes scanning for Sylvia's distinctive red hair, a beacon of hope in the turmoil.

"There she is!" Pierre's voice booms with relief, his finger pointing in Sylvia's direction. My heart skips a beat as I spot Sylvia standing beside someone, their silhouette partially obscured by the haze.

"Charles!" Grace's voice reverberates through the chaos, filled with a mixture of relief and urgency. She sprints towards me, her arms outstretched, seeking solace in my embrace. I hesitate for a moment, caught between the comfort she seeks and the unease that lingers within me. Despite my reservations, I tentatively wrap my arms around her, offering a semblance of support. Her face buries itself against my chest, seeking refuge, while my eyes continue their desperate search for any sign of the person I truly seek.

Observing the scene, George picks up on the disconnect, his empathetic gaze shifting between me and Grace. Sensing the gravity of the situation, he leans in closer to Pierre, his words spoken with quiet sincerity.

"I don't think that's the her he was referring to, mate," George whispers, his voice filled with understanding and empathy. Pierre's eyes meet mine, realization dawning upon him as he comprehends the depth of my concern.

"Charles, you're looking for someone else, aren't you?" Pierre's words hang in the air, carrying a sense of urgency and realization. Our eyes lock, and in that moment, he understands the gravity of my search.

"I knew it," George murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of concern and empathy.

Pierre's face darkens, his features etched with a deepening seriousness. "Oh, fuck," he breathes out, the weight of the situation settling upon him. "I think Mick and the rest of the guys are trying to persuade the Marshalls to let them in, to find her."