lovely little cliffhanger at the end of the last chapter
here's the aftermath (don't kill me)
*tw - mentions of depression and suicide. please don't read if you don't feel comfortable! either leave a comment or send me a dm if you would prefer a summary that censors the sensitive content*
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Alyssa Archer is a Danger to Herself and Everyone Around Her
Article by Anonymous, Published in Association with MotionNews
The title of this article says it all. Alyssa Archer is a danger and shouldn't be racing in Formula One. The only suit she should be wearing is a straight jacket in a psych ward.
Now, I'm not going to make these false allegations. I have trusted and reputable sources to back up every single one of my claims. So you can either believe me, or continue living in denial that your 'perfect' F1 princess is as perfect as she portrays.
It isn't a well known fact that Archer has been in therapy for a while now for a range of mental health issues brought on from her own stupid and reckless choices. Supposedly she has PTSD, depression, anxiety, an eating disorder, and who knows what else. Are these really qualities that make an F1 driver? I certainly don't think so.
If that list wasn't enough to convince you that she should take a step away from one of the most dangerous sports in the world, maybe this little fact will. Alyssa wanted an easy way out from her problems and once again didn't take a moment to consider the consequences that a suicide attempt could have on the poor people who loved her at the time. What lead her to do such a thing is up for speculation, however it wouldn't surprise this author if the guilt from her wrongdoings were starting to eat away at her, leeching on to the buffet of bad things she has done. It was selfish, and reports suggest that she isn't any better now than she was then.
What if her suicidal tendencies arise when she is out on track? Who's to say she won't just drive straight into a wall? There are nineteen other drivers sharing the tarmac with her and there's every possibility that she could take one of them down with her. Hasn't the sport lost enough drivers already?
Find below the link to a petition to remove Alyssa Archer from Formula One. Sign it and save lives. She is a danger to herself, and it shouldn't be left to a fatality to see her gone.
***
"This is fucking bullshit!" I exclaimed for what felt like the millionth time as I re-read the article. My seething resentment for this anonymous coward was at an all time high. Max had tried to keep it away from me for as long as he could, which I appreciate, but this was serious. Calling for me to be removed from the sport because of something that happened months ago? Bullshit. This person was trying to erase the mountains I had overcome since that low point in my life, and they couldn't care less about the personal progress I had made that I was exceptionally proud of.
It was safe to say that Lizzie would not be impressed with the few hours of sleep I had managed that night. How could I possibly sleep when my anger was at a boiling point? I wanted to so desperately say my piece, put the rumours to bed, but there wasn't much that would do in my case. Anything I would say could be twisted into a frantic and crazy attempt to redeem myself, or at least that's how this anonymous bitch would present it. The damage was done and this person was getting away with it.
Max took my phone from my hand and shoved it deep into his pocket. "You're going to spiral if you keep reading it."
"I'm already spiralling!" I threw my hands up in the air, before bringing them down to clutch my head. "This is just what I fucking need."
"I'm sorry, schatje, but I have no idea what I can say to make you feel better." I peaked through my fingers at Max's desperate words to see his saddened expression.
I couldn't help the frown that fell on my lips. It wasn't fair that he was feeling bad for something that was all me. Letting out a sigh, I stood up from the bed, meeting him at the window of our shared room to wrap my arms around him in a hug. "Don't be sorry, my love. You just being here is enough. I'm going to get through this I just-" I huffed and pulled back from the hug, "I have no idea what I'm going to do."
"Let's just take this one day at a time. If it doesn't start to blow over on its own, we can come up with something together. I know you-"
"And yet you still had to ask if I crashed on purpose yesterday," I interrupted. "I know, I know, it only came from a place of concern and not because you doubted me," I quickly continued when he looked as if he wanted to defend himself, "but if you, my partner, had to question it, then what is everyone else going to do? Toto, Lewis, my team... if they doubt me, the dynamic doesn't work and this stupid petition to get me removed from the sport may as well work."
Max watched me carefully. "Get your shoes on, schatje. You should get in early and clear this up with your team. I'm sure they'll be as understanding as I am."
I was hesitant with doubt, but didn't have any better ideas. Staying here any longer would just delay the inevitable. It's better to rip the plaster off quickly. As well as putting on my shoes, I applied a thin layer of makeup to make myself look more presentable and secured my hair in a low bun to keep it off my neck in the heat, allowing the shorter strands out at the front to frame my face. My stomach was doing flips with nerves and even the small sips of water and breath control wasn't doing much to ease it. The feeling only intensified as we walked into the paddock, where the usual leeches were awaiting my arrival. A small positive is that they kept their distance and were mainly focused on pictures - Lando's threats must've stayed with them.
Max held my hand tightly all the way to the entrance of the Mercedes building. It was early afternoon and we were almost certainly the first drivers in. Even a lot of personnel were yet to arrive and the paddock was subsequently more quiet.
Reaching into his pocket, Max pulled out my phone and handed it back to me. "I only want you on this to call or message me if you need me at any point. It doesn't matter if you think I'm busy or just don't want to bother me - I simply do not care."
I pressed a short kiss to his lips. "Thanks, Max. I really appreciate it."
"I love you."
"I love you more," I replied.
Max waited outside the glass doors for me to get inside, probably double checking that I wasn't going to duck out and avoid my responsibilities. I really was grateful that I wasn't having to do this completely alone. Knowing that he had my back was a huge relief and the boost of confidence I needed to walk right up to the door of Toto's office and knock on the door.
"Come in," his voice called through the closed door. I had no indication of the tone, whether he was in a good or a bad mood.
Slowly, I pushed down on the handle and walked in, feeling my body shrink in on itself with nerves. "We need to talk."
Toto put down the mug that hovered in front of his lips, avoiding taking the sip. His eyes watched me carefully through his thick-rimmed glasses. "I was wondering when you were going to get here."
"You told me to get here early, so I got here as early as I could."
"Did Max walk you in?" he asked, catching me off guard. I cautiously nodded my head, wondering what the possible connotations of such a simple thing were. Would Max walking me in be a bad thing? "Good. I'll make sure there's security for you at the next race."
The muscles in my body relaxed as I walked further into the room. "Thank you, it's appreciated."
"Please, take a seat. You might be here a while."
I did as I was told, sitting in the plush chair in front of Toto's desk, which was littered with graphs and numbers, and various electronic devices showing even more graphs and numbers. At first, I just let him talk. He wasn't giving too much away on his opinion on the article, however he did bring it up. It was the reason I was sent home early from the track last night, and why I needed to come in early today. It was also the topic of a lot of discussions which I wasn't a part of, involving Lizzie and my engineers.
"Susie told me you stopped seeing your therapist?" Toto's words sounded like a question, but I knew there was some disappointment behind it, like he didn't want to believe it.
I swallowed hard and nodded my head, speaking for the first time since sitting down. "Uh, yeah. A lot of the information in the articles were things I had exclusively disclosed to Lauren, and so while an investigation is on-going, I thought it was the best thing for me."
"Are you seeing anyone else for your mental health?"
"I appreciate the concern Toto with everything that's going on, I really do, but the treatment I seek or lack thereof is none of your business. It shouldn't be a conversation topic."
"This is more than just a conversation, Alyssa. You need help."
I was taken aback by his bluntness. "I'm getting better."
"Are you?"
The cogs were turning in my head. If it hand't been for mine and Max's earlier conversation, I probably wouldn't have even considered the possibility that Toto thought I had crashed on purpose, however the frown and look of concern on his face told me otherwise. "I didn't crash on purpose yesterday, if that's what you're on about, and if you would've let me stay behind and finish my job I would've explained to you that my car was effected by the dirty air and oversteered. It was the correction that put my line off and sent me into the wall."
"Given your history-"
I scoffed and interrupted him. "What history? I have never nor will I ever crash on purpose!"
"You're getting defensive."
"Because what you're accusing me of is beyond ridiculous." My jaw clenched and I was fighting the anger inside me. I didn't want to snap or say something I would regret to my boss, who literally could end my career with a snap of his fingers. "I know myself better than anyone else, Toto. If I didn't think I was safe to drive, I wouldn't drive. You may think me immature, but I am not stupid. My medication is working better than I could've asked and I am not the same person that the article was written about. I'm getting better, and wouldn't even dream of crashing on purpose and endangering the lives of anyone, especially a grid of drivers who welcomed me with open arms despite everything."
Toto looked at me carefully. It looked like he was processing my little speech, deciding on the best way to respond. My chest was rising and falling a little heavier with the deeper breaths I took in an attempt to calm myself down. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay," he nodded his head once and adjusted himself so that he sat up a little taller. "I want you to go to the garage and explain the incident to the team, but you should know that your car might not be ready in time for the race."
"I-what?" A lump formed in my throat. "It was a relatively small crash. I don't get it."
All Toto did was shrug his shoulders. "Key components of your car were damaged. If it isn't ready in time, you will just have to sit and watch the race from the garage."
I wanted to protest but, if his words were true, there was nothing I could do. A damaged car is as much use to me in a race as racing on wheels made of cheese. Holding my tongue was difficult, but I managed it, and left Toto's office feeling more frustrated than ever.
The talk with the team went surprisingly well. Firstly, I apologised for giving them extra work. It sucks that when I crash, it's not just me who's affected by it. I reiterated the fact that being such a strong and close-knit team was important and tried to ignore the whispers at the back of the group and pitiful looks. It was clear they had seen the article, I doubted that there was anyone in the paddock who hadn't, and I hated how clear it was that their opinions on me had been warped. I was incredibly thankful for Mike, who was the main guy working on my car, for stepping forward and reassuring me that the car was ready, and that the team look forward to celebrating my win - "Let's show them what Alyssa Archer is capable of in the finest made car on the grid, eh?"
I spent my time before the driver's parade working and interacting with as few people as possible. In all honesty, I wanted nothing more than to avoid the whole thing, but I knew that it would send a message to the fans that I wasn't okay. Nothing's better than just putting on a smile and pushing down your anger and frustrations, right?
"Whoever is writing the articles is painting the image that people with mental health issues are villains," Lando angrily grumbled. He stuck by my side at the back of the platform that drover around the circuit. "It's fucked up, and it's going to stop other people from coming forward and seeking help."
"Every angry thought you're having, I can promise you I've already had," I told him, placing a friendly hand on top of his on the railing.
Lando ran his other hand through his hair in frustration before putting his McLaren cap back on. "How are you so calm right now?"
All I could do was shrug my shoulders. "Women have had to suppress their emotions since the beginning of time so that they don't appear hysterical. Trust me, behind closed doors I'm kicking furniture and yelling every curse word I know in any language."
"You guys are friends again?" Max's surprised voice made me turn my head in his direction. He had just finished giving a mini interview and showing off to the crowds and was clearly shocked to see Lando and I so buddy-buddy. I completely forgot to tell him we were good once more.
"Uh," I hesitated, wanting to choose my words carefully. I knew I was okay with Lando, but had no idea if Max held any resentment. After all, he did think Lando agreed to qualifying in Spa just to spite us. "We forgave each other for everything, although he was having to do most of the forgiving because of the shit I did, but yes, we're friends."
I was expecting Max's face to twist into an angry frown, so was pleasantly surprised when he let out a laugh and wrapped his arms tightly around Lando. "I have my COD buddy back!"
"What?"
"Oh, Lando, you wouldn't believe how shit Lys is at the game. Me and you make a much better team. I think she's given me a few grey hairs and-"
"I'm going to stop you there," I interrupted Max, gently jabbing his chest with my finger. "I'm not that bad."
"Yeah, you are," Lando piped up, a grin on his baby face.
Folding my arms tightly across my chest, I let out a huff of air through my turned up nose. "Fine! I'll leave you two to be a happy couple then, shall I?"
"That would be much appreciated," Max replied with a sweet smile.
Despite what I said, I knew I didn't really want to leave them. The pitiful looks from my mechanics were nothing compared to what half the grid were giving me. I didn't want people to tell me it was going to be okay or that they were sorry for me, I wanted them to share my anger. If I were to spark up a conversation with anyone else, I knew that they'd walk on eggshells to make sure I don't have a nervy-b. Whilst I was appreciative of the concern, it's just not what's best for me.
Because I was keeping mostly to my self, I was putting a lot of focus, although unintentionally, into my thoughts. A part of me wanted to trust that Lauren wouldn't do this, that she had been right to point the finger of blame at whoever broke into her house and stole her notes, however I came to a realisation. The article brought up my lowest point, something that I had only just clocked happened after the robbery. I don't know how I didn't realise it sooner. The session Lauren and I had arranged for that week had to be rescheduled because of the break-in, and I remember it clearly because I invited a bunch of people over to my house just so I didn't have to feel so alone. My mind may have been fuzzy but I was certain that Lauren learned of my 'attempt' and it wasn't a part of the group of notes that had been stolen. There really isn't anyone else could be behind the articles; so very few people knew about the intensity of depression. She might not be the one writing them, but I didn't have a doubt in my mind that she was, at the very least, selling information.
The thought upset me. I didn't want it to be true, but I couldn't offer any other explanation. As soon as the parade was over, I wanted to spend some time by myself in my driver room. I had a lot of new frustrations and the best way I knew to let them all out at once was to have a good cry.
When the tears started falling as soon as the door closed, I clutched my knees to my chest. My back was against the soft cushion of the sofa. Being on the floor hit different than crying anywhere else, and in the pitch black, too? Perfection. My whole body shook with the sobs and I was very grateful for having a soundproof room. Anyone walking past would probably just report me to Toto or run off to sign the petition to have me removed from the sport.
After about half an hour of intense crying, my tears ceased and the only sound in the room was a few sniffles here and there. I had a bit of time before I would need to get ready for the race and so embraced some alone time with open arms. There was no one here to pity me, or coddle and cosset me. Some lovely and well deserved time alo-
A sharp knock snapped my head up from my knees. I knew the time spent was too good to be true. After flicking on the lights and wiping away the makeup from under my eyes, I slowly opened the door. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" I asked, sarcasm dripping from my words as I looked up at my boss. "Here to question my mental health again? Or perhaps you're here to tell me I'm not racing? Or-" I had known Toto for long enough now to know when to stop. The way his expression became even more stoney, and the twitch at the corner of his mouth. "No."
"I'm sorry, Alyssa, but your car just isn't re-"
"Bullshit!" I exclaimed, interrupting him. I guess all my sadness had once again turned into fury. If possible, my hair would be on fire and lasers would shoot from my eyes to pulverise him on the spot. My body started shaking and I had to take a step back, which only prompted him to step into my room and close the door behind him.
Toto frowned. "I've already let everyone know, and they're just as disappointed as I am."
I couldn't help but scoff. "Mike told me that my car was ready, that it had been all morning, and now suddenly it's not ready? Even if it hadn't been ready earlier, we have the best guys on they grid and they've fixed much worse in less time, like how they got my car pieced together after my crash at Spa. There is absolutely no way that my car isn't fit to drive - you just don't think I'm fit to drive, do you?"
"Be careful what you're accusing me of," Toto spoke with a dangerously low voice. It was enough to make me swallow hard, his presence almost threatening in nature, however I didn't want to back down.
"Is it really an accusation if it's true?" I asked, nostrils flaring with anger. "I knew this morning you didn't want me to drive, and I should've anticipated you pull some shit like this after the article was written. I am not about to stand here and let you stop me from racing because you think you know me better than I know myself."
"Your car isn't ready," he said slowly, punctuating each word so they hit like a punch in the face.
I ignored him. "What, do you think I'm going to take out half the grid in a suicide attempt? Risk the lives of those I love because I want to kill myself? That I'll see a puddle on track and jump out of my car to drown myself in it? Be fucking for real!"
"Enough!" he yelled, silencing me in an instant. "Need I remind you that I am your boss? You do not get to speak to me like that."
"You're supposed to have my back, not put both championships at risk!" I challenged. "Need I remind you that we are a team, and if Max or Charles overtakes me in the championship, they overtake us all."
"You don't get to talk to me about being a team when you're throwing a hissy fit and acting like a child."
"So what's wrong with my car then?"
"Something with the engine. I'm not a mechanic so I don't know the details," how convenient, "but it was small and went unnoticed in the initial repair. They caught it during a check, and it can't be fixed in time. If you went out on track, you wouldn't last ten laps before it goes up in a puff of smoke."
I rolled my eyes in annoyance. "Believable."
"Not everyone is your fucking enemy, Alyssa, and until you realise that I'm not out to get you or ruin your career, we can't be a team. Now, I want you on the first flight home, and I'm sure I can convince Lewis to use his so you're not waiting on a commercial. Don't bother showing your face again until you've calmed down and are ready to apologise for your behaviour."
I stormed past Toto and swung the door open for him to leave. "Goodbye."
With only a look of warning and anger, Toto strode past me and out of the door, which I promptly closed behind him with a slam. I gave myself a few moments to take deep breaths and calm myself down before reaching for my phone. Six missed calls: two from Max, and one from Seb, Daniel, Lando, and Esteban. I figured the news had already reached them since Toto decided it would be a good idea to tell the entire fucking paddock before the driver herself. I sent them all a short text, letting them know I was going home. I put a bit more detail in my message to Max, briefly explaining the argument I had with Toto and asking if he could meet me at my room.
There wasn't much to pack up from my driver room; most things were kept in the hotel room. Oh God, I was going to have to leave the paddock and deal with the media on my own. Even though he wasn't exactly a star in his career, I missed Damien and the huge support he was for me.
I didn't hesitate to open the locked door when I heard a knock, fully expecting to see my boyfriend. My eyes welled up in anticipation. I was surprised I had any more tears to cry.
"Lys..."
"Lance?" I sniffled, hastily wiping my cheeks.
"I heard about you not racing," he said softly.
"As much as I appreciate it, I don't need anyone else feeling sorry for me."
Lance smiled sadly. "I know, which is why I'm not here to talk." Once he saw the obvious confusion on my face, he chuckled. "I wanted to give you something." Reaching into the pocket oh his shorts, he pulled out a folded slip of white paper and placed it in my hand. I hesitantly unfolded it, not knowing what to expect.
'Keep your chin up. If anyone can come out of this stronger than ever, it's you. The articles want to taint your image for whatever reason, and I know you've lost a lot of support, so hopefully this, although small, will make you realise that there are more people who have your back than you could ever realise. I'm sure you'll turn this pole into another win... just make sure you give me a wave when you lap me, yeah? xx'
Clearing his throat, Lance ran his hand through his fluffy hair. "I was going to put it in your helmet like I normally do, but then I heard about what happened and thought you could do with the message in person. I probably should've crossed out the last sentence, though, eh?"
"I-" I struggled to find the words as I looked between the note and Lance. "It's you?"
"It's me," he said with a sheepish smile. "I know you're probably a little disappointed that it's not someone else b-" I didn't let him finish his sentence. With the little energy I had remaining in me, I wrapped my arms tightly around his shoulders. It was clear Lance didn't realise the full extent as to what these notes have meant to me, getting me through the toughest of times. My guilt for treating him like his father was enough to start the tears. He was so much more than I ever gave him credit for.
"You don't know how thankful I am for you," I whispered in his ear, refusing to let go. Luckily, he didn't seem to mind the forced contact, and responded by giving me a loving squeeze. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"I didn't want you to think I was doing it to make up for everything that happened towards the end of last year. Sure, it was a part of me asking for forgiveness, but I mainly just wanted you to know that you always had someone's support. I'm surprised you didn't clock on," he pulled back with a light laugh, letting me look into his sparkling eyes, "or that someone told you it was me. Most of the paddock know, you know?"
"Really?"
"Yeah, even Max does."
"That little shit told me he had no idea!"
Lance's laugh was like music to my ears. "I asked him to keep it a secret; I wanted you to find out when the time was right. I was hoping it was a good first step towards us being friends."
I shook my head in disbelief. "You're not my friend, Lance - you're my brother." At this, a smile lit up his face. "You've proven yourself more than worthy over the months, even though I've barely done anything to prove myself to you."
"You don't have to prove anything to me, Lys. I mean, you haven't complained about me over the radio in ages so I'll take that."
"Nothing that you've heard, anyway," I teased. "But thank you, Lance. I'm lucky to have had you in my corner throughout the season. Can you promise me something, though? Well, two things, actually."
"Of course."
"Firstly, please don't stop with the notes just because I know it's you."
He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Wasn't planning on it."
"And secondly, please don't leave Formula One. You're too good of a driver to be anywhere else right now. Maybe just find another team?" I suggested when he started to laugh yet again.
"Is Mercedes hiring?"
"For my seat? Probably," I joked with a shake of my head, "but seriously, Lance. I know you want to get away from your father, but this is your dream. Don't let some bitter old man stand between you and greatness."
As he laced his fingers with mine, Lance looked down at me with a look I couldn't quite place. Maybe it had just been so long since I'd seen him look so happy that it was unfamiliar to me. "I'll keep you in mind when I'm reading through contracts."
~***~
*not edited*
another chapter down.
thoughts?
the note author is lance! who'd have thought it, eh? if you remember any of the hints i gave and want a little further explanation, just put them here. there were a few hints that were more obvious than others so i completely get if some of them don't add up (also ignore the fact this book has been ongoing for over three years lmao).
the race results will be featured in the next chapter!
unrelated but i have a new puppy. i am obsessed. his name is mika (half after my grandad and half after mika häkkinen) and he is a collie. literally the cutest thing ever - bright blue eyes, white fur apart from some black spots on his ears and front legs, and he pokes his tongue out whenever he's happy.
qotc: if you could make any changes to the 2023 driver lineup, what would it be?
aotc: i'd give daniel a seat, for sure. i love checo, but the tease of a future maxiel lineup once more is something i didn't realise i needed so badly until now haha.