Re-evaluating Strategies

🇳🇿MELBOURNE

Abella
Melbourne, Australia

Over the following days leading up to Friday, I've barely seen Charles at all after his outburst in my hotel room. Needing to share my thoughts with someone, I asked Seb if he knew why Charles was acting differently. He told me that he personally, hadn't noticed a change in the Monegasques behaviour, possibly due to their busy schedules. Although he did suggest that I speak to Pierre if I wanted any potential insight.

Taking in this new information, I set off to the Toro Rosso hospitality, after thanking Seb with a hurried hug. I see him chuckle and shake his blonde head at me, before I speed walk out the exit of the Ferrari building.

Rushing down the paddocks, I look around me, checking I am heading the right way. Once confident of the direction of my destination, I carry on in my stride, taking my phone out of my back pocket in an attempt to appear busy in the sea of surrounding workers.

Looking down at the rectangular screen, I am unaware of the body in my path, which I soon after crash into.

'Merde' I curse falling backwards onto the pavement, scraping my hand on the gravel trying to cushion my fall. While sitting on my hurt behind, nursing my hand against my chest, the Dutch boy is quickly at my side, helping me up.

'Shit! I'm so sorry Abella. I didn't see you there' He apologises at a rapid pace, picking my phone up off of the floor, handing it to me, now I'm on my feet.

'Don't worry Max, I wasn't looking where I was walking' I say awkwardly laughing, fixing my now messy, dark mop of hair. People start to gather around us, some checking I'm ok, others shoving cameras in our faces. Taking my hand, Max leads me into his drivers room, preventing anymore intrusion from the media.

'Well your face is going to be plastered all over the media now' Max sighs as soon as we've shut the door behind us.

'It wouldn't be the first time' my small chuckle gets slightly stuck in my throat. I've had my fair share of intrusive media over the years, therefore I choose to keep all my social profiles private now. I zone out, remembering the struggles I have had with media abuse in the past. Something, that when I was only a vulnerable teenager, I wasn't so good at handling.
'Does it hurt?' He questions, catching me off guard. I look at him confused, how can he possibly know what I was thinking about. 'Your hand' he gestures towards where the blood is pouring from my body, leaving me relieved.

'Oh, Christ. It's going everywhere' I exclaim, suddenly more aware of my injury. Max belts of a laugh at the sight of me attempting to catch the drips in my other hand.

'Here let me' he takes my hand in his, sitting me down. A first aid kit is pulled out of a draw and he rips open an antiseptic wipe, carefully cleaning my wound. I suck in a gasp of air, making a pained hissing sound, as he wraps a dressing around my hand, securing it with medical tape.

'Thanks' I smile gratefully up at him, still attentively tending to my hand. I notice the whole room looks like a horror movie, my crimson blood smeared across the floor. 'Sorry about the state of the room'.

'It's no problem, I'll go fetch someone to clean it now. I'll let you go wherever you were in such a rush to get to' he gives me a quick wink before disappearing out of the door.

Now resuming my quest to talk with Pierre, I stand in the reception of the Toro Rosso hospitality. I'm about to walk out due to my rising awkwardness, being alone and unfamiliar, when the fellow Frenchman I am looking for turns around the corner.

'Pierre!' I call for him, and he turn to look at me a bright smile on his face. He approaches me and kisses my cheeks, followed by a loving hug.

'Morning Bianchi' he says pulling away 'what do I owe the pleasure?'

'Is there anywhere we can talk in private?' I ask reverting to French, not too fond of people overhearing our conversation. He nods, informing his group of his departure, and leads me up through the building, to an empty office on the top floor.

'What's the matter?' He asks, somewhat concerned.

'Well. Charles has been acting different with me recently, and Seb recommended I ask you if there was anything I'd done wrong' I look him in the eye, pleading him to help me out.

'You know it's not my thoughts to share. If, and when he wants you to know, he will tell you himself, but you know that too' he grins, aware that his equivocality frustrates me beyond compare. 'I don't know exactly what he's thinking right now. However I do know it's nothing to worry about Bells. He's just not used to you being back yet that's all' I sigh with a smile, knowing Pierre is right. I stand up, giving him another hug before walking to the door. 'You will figure it out Bells' he adds knowingly, before I leave, sending him a smile of thanks.

Exiting the building, standing in the middle of the paddocks, still within the hustle and bustle. I feel more confused now than to begin with as I repeat Pierres' words on a loop in my head, wondering what they could mean.

Hey guys, sorry I haven't uploaded in a while as I've been busy with school. But I finally managed to write something worth publishing. Please comment any ideas or requests! Enjoy :))

On a side note, I don't know about you guys but I still feel pretty shaken by Grosjean's crash yesterday. I'm so glad that he is okay, and it really goes to show that those halos are there for a reason!