Under the Microscope (Book One of Three)

Chapter 6

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The next weekend went from bad to worse. The press was all over the fact that my family wasn't seen at my first F1 race and my anxiety and determination to just keep the car out of the wall meant that I was slow.

Like really slow.

Which naturally had all the misogynists in the papers writing about how I was not deserving of my seat. The only person slower than me was Hulkenberg and that was because he was filling in for Vettel who had covid.

"It's not as bad as you think" Olivia was trying to comfort me in my driver's room before dragging me back out to the relentless press. I just scoffed, head still in my hands as I was sat on the edge of the desk.

"I know you're trying to be nice and all, but I need you to either leave or shut up before I throw something at you" I say bluntly. I'm angry because angry is better than upset. I'm pissed off at myself, the car wasn't fast. But today it was me that was slow, not the car. Olivia does go quiet and as I look up to apologise, because it's not her fault, I see the door close. I groan and throw my gloves off the desk in frustration. "Fuck, fuck, FUCKKKK" I yell, finally in some privacy but unfortunately for me, I did too good of a job of getting my anger out. Because now the frustration and self doubt began to creep in, my heart heavy in my chest and the tears were trying to work there way out of my eyes. "No no no no no" I was trying to will myself not to cry which just resulted in more tears and a gasp for air. You can't just break down after one bad race, you have to be stronger than this. If you're weak then you will prove them all right. And at that point the anger came back. The only reason I was concerned with keeping the car out of the wall was that I was trying to avoid the articles about girls who can't drive. If I hadn't let the press get in my head this would have never happened.

There was a knock on the door, and I shouted for whoever it was to go away. I was so embarrassed, that I'd kept my helmet on as I walked from park ferme, straight through the garage to my room. Olivia had been the first to try to get me out, but honestly, if I had gone out there when she wanted me to, I would have just been a puddle of tears. And I could not handle being a global joke.

The door started to open "I said fuck off" I growled to the person, not looking at the door. They paused before they continued to open. "I'm warning you, I'm not responsible if I throw anything at you JC", figuring it was her come to have her attempt at a pep talk.

"Not JC," the distinctly soft British voice said.

"How bad is it?" I asked. Still not looking up, even if I knew he was here out of concern, I still didn't want to see my puffy face.

"It gets worse with every minute you stay in here, wallowing in self-pity" he replied brutally. I swallowed, the lump in my throat and looked at Lewis. When he saw my face, he quickly closed the door. "What happened out there?"

"I was scared," I said honestly, not breaking eye contact. He looked surprised at my admission and as he began to open his mouth to respond, I put my hand up to stop him. "Not of the speed. Of crashing. Nothing about the car worked, a freaking tractor would have been faster because then I would have known I wouldn't lose control. But I just thought if I took the pace down a bit then I could get that control. But fuck, it wasn't long until I was so far behind, I was out of the race, and then I couldn't fight back."

He sighed, taking a seat on the couch in front of me. "You can't be scared to crash. It's safe" he tried to explain but I shook my head, he didn't understand what I was saying.