I don't remember much about my uncle, yet he is the reason behind everything I do. I was sixteen when he died, and there. My uncle had somehow convinced my parents to let him take me to Japan, which in itself was a miracle. He asked if I wanted to be with him in the Marussia garage, but I had heard Charles would be in the grandstands, so I begged to be there. Back then, when my life was more normal, I had a crush on Charles. He was 17, and still incredible handsome, if you discounted the hair. That was a nightmare. We had been go carting together since he was five, and I was four. We were close. We used to be close. He was the one who spotted the crash tractor. It had picked up a crashed car that we had been too busy talking to even notice the crash. I remember the moment I saw his eyebrows furrow. Following his line of vision, I had seen it there. "That's not supposed to be the-" I was cut off by a crash. My eyes widened in horror as I had gripped Charles's arm like my life depend on it. "Was that Jules?" I asked. "Charles! Was. That. Jules?"
"I don't know." At this point the audience had seen it, falling silent. I remember having started to walk through people when Charles grabbed my arm. "Where are you going?"
"To see if the was Jules." At that point I had tears in my eyes that were threatening to fall.
"It has been known that the crashed car was no other than Jules Bianchi, driving for Marussia. More details to come about his condition," The announcer had said. Words that would forever be burned into my memory. I never had a dad. He ran out on me and my mother when I was three. In a fit of rage, she changed my last name, from Richeliue to her maden name, Bianchi. From there, Jules was my father, as far as I knew. He came to my soccer games, and celebrated when I told hime I wanted to race. He never even questioned, unlike everyone else if I was fit for this because I'm a girl. He was amazing.