Stupid, irresponsible, reckless, insensitive
Charles lashed violently at his arms with each word that ran through his mind.
Stupid, stupid, stupid
It wasn't his fault, he didn't do it. Not that anyone believed him, he was the new guy, the one they can't trust.
The one who lost his job.
Sauber didn't want him, no-one did, his reputation was destroyed.
All because one person couldn't own up to leaking information.
Information Charles couldn't possibly know.
Not that anyone believed him when he said so.
He had just been shoved out the door like an unwanted dog.
The tiles beneath him were stained red, the grout an ugly shade of brown. There were splashes on the wall and on the sink, crimson on white.
The blood flowed down his arm as Charles cut deeper into the skin.
Unwanted, unneeded, useless, unreliable.
The silver of the knife flashed in the fluorescent light. He brought the tip to his left wrist and pushed it down hard, stabbing through his ulnar artery, the knife coming through the other side of his wrist.
The Monegasque dragged the knife along his arm, severing the artery. Blood spurted from his wrist like a fountain.
He yanked the knife out and slit his other wrist, relief flooding him as he saw the blood pour out.
Charles staggered, clutching onto the sink as blackness invaded his vision.
He stepped back, his foot sliding on the lake of blood and he fell backwards.
There was a thunk as the Monegasque's head collided with the porcelain of the bathtub, knocking him out.
Charles lay unconscious in an expanding pool of his own blood, his heartrate slowing with every minute that passed.
The river of blood flowing from his wrist slowly ceased as Charles' head lolled to one side.
His chest rose and fell tantalising slowly.
Slower and slower and slower and...
He let out a breath, but this time his chest refused to rise.
Charles Leclerc was dead.
Name: Charles Leclerc
Time of death: 16:42
Type of death: Blood loss from severed ulnar artery in wrist