Tw:
This chapter will contain mentions of domestic abuse, as well as downplaying of abuse. Please if you or anyone you know suffer from abuse talk to someone. Speak up and never be afraid or ashamed to ask for help!
***
The race was going great, phenomenally actually. In contrast to the rainy qualifying we had had the race held nothing but clear skies and the occasional gentle breeze. The energy around the track was surely something to remember. The air was almost buzzing with excitement and the stands were filled with fans, rooting for their home hero Daniel Ricciardo. The Aussie whom I had lapped on my 15th lap. I almost felt bad for him, it was not his fault that the McLaren he had to drive was slower than a tractor.
The race was going brilliantly. It was lap 34 and I was leading. My body was feeling giddy with the new sensation, leading an f1 race- even if just for a few moments is something to cherish for the rest of your life. I had managed to overtake Max when he had to box during lap 26 since the team had pitted me first. This obviously did not mean that the Dutch was going to let the win slip out of his grasp. We were coming out of turn 3 and into turn 4 and he was hot on my heels.
Luckily for me I had to focus so hard on defending from the reigning world champion that not a single thought outside of racing could enter my mind. Had I not been laser focused on racing my mind would surely have been occupied with a thousand thoughts.
The pressure was on. I had gone through two races so far where I had completely different results, one dnf and one podium. I am the third youngest f1 driver through history, of course being bested by Bastard-Max and Daddy's-money-Lance.
As I was about to hit the apex of turn 15 in a way that would make anyone who knew anything about racing fawn a red Ferrari suddenly appeared on the inside of my racing line, pushing me to leave space all while taking mine. The first thing that hit me was confusion- I had not been alerted that Max had been overtaken. The second thing passing through my mind was fury- the red Ferrari of Carlos Sainz had driven too close to me, effectively chipping of a part of its front wing against my left rear tyre and giving me a fast puncture. I couldn't help the scream of frustration I let out as the cars started to pass me.
From there all I could do really was defend for my life until I finally got back to the pit entry. Of course with my luck the pit stop was an entire shit show of its own, first there was some issue with the tyre change so the stop took five seconds instead of two and second I ended up exiting the pit lane behind the orange McLaren of Daniel Ricciardo. That's right, I was down to position 16.
Even though I pushed as hard as I dated throughout the rest of the race I crossed the line in a pathetic 12th. Something I would surely have nightmares about for months.
***
As his eyes locked with mine through the crowded garage I felt chills erupt over the entirety of my body. The hairs on my neck stood straight and my body followed suit, stiffening into an almost slouched position. His eyes were scrutinizingly hard, seething with rage and his jaw was locked, sporting the emotion I had seen in them so many times before. To no avail I tried to cower into myself and self soothe by wrapping my arms around my stomach and fighting to get my fingers to stop shaking. As he neared I settled for hiding my hands behind my back since they refused to stop shaking. It's the same look he always has when I don't race to his standards or expectations. It's the look that tells me I'm in for it when he gets to me. The look that scared me when I was younger and possibly scares me even more now.
I closed my eyes for a split second and when I opened them again he was right in front of me, scowling down at me as if I was the most repulsing thing to exist. I could not help but physically flinch, something that only seemed to fuel his anger.
"What. The. Fuck. Was. That" His voice sounded eerily calm as he grabbed onto my bicep and started pulling me towards my changing room. I tied my best to suppress the wince wanting to emerge as his bruising grip only tightened the closer we got to the door. I desperately tried to look around, searching for anyone or anything that could save me. My efforts were no use, nobody seemed to notice anyway. The tight grip on my arm would definitely be leaving those small familiar bruises that I would have to hide for the upcoming few days.
It would not really be that difficult to hide, I was a pro at that point. It's more often than not that his hands left bruises on my body. Though not the ones you'd think- I should be grateful, he has never not once hit me. So it's not that bad I guess it could definitely be worse. People have it worse and little finger-sized bruises scattered across my arms aren't anything to whine about anyway.
With that said I do hate how small he makes me feel. In his presence I always feel like the most pathetic person to exist, too weak to speak up and to useless to be successful. He always manages to back me into a corner, even if he isn't touching me he always crowds me, makes me feel small, pathetic. Though I'd never admit it to anyone, my dad scares me more than anything else in the world.
His words have a way of creeping into my mind, leaving me restless and sleep deprived. The insults always echo inside my mind, making small cuts into my confidence until it completely breaks down.
As I stood there, cowering into myself while looking into his chest, not daring to meet his eyes yet, I tried to brace myself similar to the way I would before a crash. Steady my breathing, straighten my back, keep the sobs from escaping my chapped lips and above everything else I tried to force myself to look up at his eyes and keep looking at him. Avoiding his enraged glare would only make things worse and I could tell I did not want his rage to get worse.
My body already felt weak since it was severely malnourished since I had not been eating even remotely enough for the past two week, and in addition to that my mind now felt frozen. Almost like the fear was a mind numbing paralyzing poison.
My eyes started to un subconsciously dart around the room- trying to find a possible escape route, My body and mind were clashing against each other in a struggle for control. My body desperately wanted to try to escape- protect us from what is to come but my mind knew there was no point. There was nothing that could shield me all I could do was succumb to the pounding in my ears and stand there, listening to him hurling insults at me.
I hate this. I hate how he makes me feel like the same scared and frustrated kid I was five years ago, everything I've worked for with myself feels seemingly like it's falling through my fingers. Like he breaks down any progress I've made in mere seconds. I still feel like the twelve year old girl, frustratedly crying in her helmet during the last lap since she knew the verbal violence she would suffer as soon as he exited her kart.
"I asked you a question, what the fuck was that" Knowing it wasn't a question he wanted me to answer I stayed quiet, still bracing for impact. "How did you turn out like this? Fucking embarrassing worthless little failure"
As his voice started to rise my heartbeat followed suit. The tears that were welling up in my eyes were getting harder to contain and my hands had started to shake. "You not only lost and embarrassed yourself in front of the entire world, you humiliated me" I swallowed deeply and allowed my eyes to close for a brief second, though quickly reopening them as his finger jabbed onto my chest. "Do you under stand that? That you have embarrassed yourself and probably ruined your entire career, when I told you last week to change the result this was not what I fucking meant, how absolutely dumb are you?" He took his hand and pushed my forehead, not hard enough to where it could be a punch but hard enough to make my head bounce back against the wall in a way that made me want to double check that it wasn't bleeding.
"Look at me when I speak to you. You are the biggest regret and greatest disappointment of my life. After all I've done for you, all the money I have poured into your career and this is how you repay me? By failing at any given opportunity, I hate you. Jag kan knappt ens se på dig, du är en skymf för vår familj och en skamfläck för hela racing-världen. Du är verkligen helt värdelös. You are unlovable worthless and not my daughter. You have humiliated yourself for the entire world to see, don't you dare call me or your mother until you've fixed this, jag avskyr dig" His words cut me in a way that is hard do explain. They re opened old wounds as well as creating new ones. Wounds laced with new fresh pain that would surely take months to heal, if they ever would.
I hate it. How no matter how much I work myself and my issues he always comes back to ruin things. It's unfair. I never get to grow and move on with my life, I'm always just stuck here. Doing everything to please my dad but getting nothing but shit in return.
And with that he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. I let myself slump back against the wall and slide down onto the floor. I knew very well what he meant by fixing the situation, he would not speak to me until I had won a race.
It's not the first time he made one of those ultimatums. He did the same when I lost my first f4 championship, it had been a rough season for me. I was freshly fourteen years old and had been struggling for the entirety of the season, I could not seem to get the car to preform in the way I expected it to, having driven several f3 cars previously. I also severely lacked maturity in my driving style and it showed. So when the last race of the season rolled around and I finished the championship in second place it felt like the world was crumbling in my hands. Like I had the opportunity of a lifetime but let it slip away. Like I was just as worthless as my dad always said.
When I got back to the motorhome my father was so angry that I don't remember ever being more afraid of him than I was that day. He yelled at me for what seemed like an eternity, and when I started to cry I enraged him to the point where he threw my championship trophy at my head- hitting me right above my left eyebrow. I still vividly remember the feeling of blood trickling down my face, even more so the panic and fear that followed. Stupid, I knew better than to cry and I should not have provoked him.
They do that- eyebrows. They split open easily and bleed like motherfuckers. The impact of the trophy was harsh enough for black spots to start overtaking my field of vision. I don't remember much of what happened after that. I can only assume that my dad once again had stormed out for when I woke up it was in Kimi's car, with a towel pressed to my upper face and the sound of high pitched ringing booming in my ears.
I had suffered a concussions severe enough that I was strictly ordered bed rest for a week. I also had to have five stitches in order to keep my split open eyebrow together. My dad had told Kimi that I fell and he seemed to believe him, or mostly believe him at least, enough to drive me to the ER and let me stay with him and Minttu for a while.
The tears that were previously contained within the borders of my waterlines were now unleashed, silently cascading down my red cheeks as silent sobs rocked my body.
The world seemed to collas in on me. The sobs were only interrupted by erratic hiccups and sniffling as I furiously tried to wipe the tears off my face. I knew better than to cry. My breathing started to become more and more erratic as the pins and needles in my limbs escalated. Soon enough my entire body was shaking and I was helplessly trying to heave down any air I could grasp. I was dying, I was sure that I would die. Everything was spinning and it felt like needles were prickling my entire body, like the pressure within my skull would force it to explode.
No matter how hard I fought the air did not seem to make it to my lungs. I started to rock back and forth In an attempt to calm myself down but the claws of panic had dug deep enough to where there was no chance of breaking free. The frenzy had gotten a hold of me and wasn't letting go. I hadn't had an attack that bad for months, it got so bad that in the midst of it I almost passed out from oxygen deprivation.
***
"I just don't get it" Pushing the oversized black sunglasses further up my nose to better cover my face I let my eyes wander over to the door, the door I had forgotten to lock after my dad stormed out. The Dutchman whom was entering my changing room without knocking and without a care in the world looked at me expectantly. "What" I cleared my throat in an attempt to get rid of the sluggishness in my voice. I was in a too disheveled state to remember my distain for Max so I did not protest as he sat down onto the couch opposite of the one I was occupying. I just observed him as he threw his legs across the cushions, resting his head against the armrest and turning it to look at me with a slight crease between his eyebrows.
His body language was a complete opposite of mine. His comfortably spread out relaxed position heavily contrasted against my curled up tense one.
"The other night Christian introduced you as the daughter of Adam Volvo" He gestured a bit with his arms before continuing. "But there were two founders of the Swedish car manufacturer Volvo and neither of them were named Volvo"
I blinked a few times to better process the question "So?" Was my response to the question I had heard so many times before. "So why did he call your dad Adam Volvo?" I rolled my eyes and forced a deep breath down. "Well my great great great something grandfather bought the other half of the company and then changed his last name to match the company. My dad just does not want me to have the name in case my career fails, he feels it would be a disgrace to the name"
"So when in interviews you say that you dad owns some car related companies you really means he is the owner of Volvo?" Max's eyes were the size of golfballs and I could not help but roll my eyes once again. "Well when you put it like that- yeah I suppose so"
***
Authors note;
So I might've cut this chapter off a little earlier that my plan was, however I really just wanted to get another chapter out to you guys and I do not have the energy to prolonge this one right now.
I just want to make it clear that I do not in anyway support any type of violence. The actions and opinions of the characters are NOT reflections of my personal values. Emmy's justifying of the abuse she suffers is not something I add to defense abuse, it is there simply because she still very much does not see that it isn't her fault. And before you go to say that she is too immature remember that she still is a teenager.
So with that said watcha' think?
Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!