"I'm fucking fine, stop touching me!" I escaped the hoard of marshals and got into the Safety Car.
As the Safety Car pulled into the pits, fireworks erupted in the sky, indicating the end of the race. I should've been screaming my lungs out right now, happy and excited. But I wanted nothing more to scream at the world and cry.
However, I stayed silent. My chest heaving up and down rather heavily making it known that I was a second away from snapping at someone. I sat through the medical checks and locked myself in my room the moment I got to the Mercedes garage. It was more than half empty anyway.
I opened the Formula One app and found myself third in the championship standings. I went down two places in just one race. Fucking great.
Someone knocked on my door. "It's Hailey."
"Come in." I sighed as she entered.
She took a seat beside me, looking like she was going through an internal battle of what she should say. "I know you're sad and bothered—"
"I'm fucking seething." I corrected her, "Sorry, continue."
"But you have to go to your interviews." She told me, "Or it'll make the team look bad."
I scoffed, "I don't fucking care, Hailey. The media could cry me a river and I still wouldn't give a fuck." I got up, "What I'm wondering is where the fuck everybody?" I walked into the empty garage, raising my hands in question, "I mean, sure, congrats to Lewis but where is everybody?"
She looked away, "I know you're grieving, Ellie. I know that but you don't have to be so difficult. Can't you just attend the interviews and make my life a bit easier. It's already hectic enough as your PR manager especially when I have to control the reputation of someone with your—"
"With my what, Hailey? My past?" I interrupted her, "I'm sorry I was a dumb teenager trying to cope with an abusive father and had a drug problem that the world happened to know about! Is that what you want to hear?" When I received no reply, I took it as my sign to continue, "And I'm sorry for being so fucking difficult, it's not like my mother passed away like four days ago. I don't even want to be here! And I'm sorry I make your life so miserable, try living my life for a fucking minute and just see if you'll make it out alive."
"I—"
"You know what, Hailey? You're something else. I can't believe I considered you as a close and caring friend to me. But when I act up once when I'm mourning, you bring up every bad quality of mine. But have you even bothered to realize how far I've come as a person?"
I watched her gulp, "You still need to do your interviews."
"Fuck you and your fucking interviews. I'm leaving." I left her standing there and took my already packed carry-on bag and got the hell out of there.
I slipped out of the paddock and nobody caught me leaving. Everyone was busy either still celebrating or giving interviews. I, on the other hand, was back at my hotel and didn't waste much time packing mu suitcase considering I barely went out or fancied up.
As I was scrolling through my phone, I noticed Neymar posting a picture in his private jet in Monza. Perfect.
In only two rings, he picked up.
"Hey, Ellie, are you okay?" Was the first thing he said the moment he picked up.
"Yeah, yeah. I was just wondering, I know you just got to Monza but can you do me the favor of getting me to Madrid?"
"Already? Didn't the race end like, 10 minutes ago?"
I sighed, "Yes, but I snuck out and really need to go home."
twenty six.
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