Full Throttle

Belgium

The ringtone of my phone cut through the stillness of my bedroom and woke me up suddenly. I blindly reached for my phone, squinting at the bright screen and answering the call, not seeing who the caller was.
"Hello?" I croaked.
"Jessie! Jessie, I have something to tell you! I didn't wake you up, did I?"
"Nope," I let out a deep breath and sat up, "not at all, Alex. What is it?"
"I'm going to drive for Red Bull!"
"What, is this in your dreams or..."
"No, I've just had Christian Horner call and tell me that I'll be replacing Pierre, who's going back to Toro Rosso, I'm a Red Bull driver, Jessie!"
"Well done! I am so happy for you! Well deserved. I better not see you back in a blue car any time soon!"
"You won't see me at all with how far I'll be driving in front of you," I heard him chuckle over the phone.
"Ha, ha ha, very funny, dickhead. I'm going back to sleep now that you've said that. Goodnight, and well done. I'm very happy for you."
"Thanks, Jessie. I'll talk to you later, sorry for waking you up. Bye!"
Three beeps signalled that the call had ended, and I instantly opened up my messages and scrolled to Pierre's contact.
Jessie: Hey, Pierre, heard from Alex that you got dropped from Red Bull. I am so, so sorry that they've done that and I'm here if you need somebody to vent to 😊
Read 2.22am
Pierre: Heya, Jess. Thanks, I'm a bit disappointed but looking forward to having you as my teammate. I'll see you in Belgium.
Read 2.30am

I sighed as I kicked my front door shut behind me, the bags in my hands feeling like they weighed a ton. It was late, 10.57pm to be exact, and I was tired. I hadn't eaten yet and so after unpacking some of the groceries and other things that I'd bought, I grabbed one of the packs of food, emptying the contents of the container into a bowl and slumped down on one of the chairs at the table. I realised that I'd forgotten to get a fork and so I dragged myself up again, opening the cutlery drawers and retrieving the metal appliance before dropping back down into the chair. I flicked through my Instagram feed, liking some of the posts mindlessly and skipping past the videos that I couldn't be bothered to watch. I finished my food and placed my bowl in the sink, my eyes falling on the box of hair dye that I'd bought earlier. I took it, heading into my bathroom and taking my kit out of the cabinet. I combined what I needed to and tipped the bottle into the bowl. Separating my hair into sections, I started the application process. It took longer than usual, but I put that down to the tiredness rather than the pain radiating from my swollen feet and ankles that kept me leaning against the side every few minutes. Finishing up, I piled my hair on top of my head and put on the shower cap. Wiping away any excess dye, I went on Instagram, posting a picture of myself on my story, asking people what colour they thought my hair was going to be.

Belgium rolled around quicker than I thought, and I soon found myself leaving my new home in Monaco in return for a hotel room in Stavelot. The hotel room strangely made me feel at home; I guessed it was that I'd missed travelling. The boys and I had arranged to meet up and later go out for drinks, and given that it was already 4.30pm, I quickly unpacked my suitcase and changed into a white cropped shirt and some blue denim dad jeans, putting my phone, wallet, and key card into my bag before heading straight back out again.
"You two look tanned!" I said as I neared the two drivers that were sitting in the hotel lobby.
"Jessie! How was your break?" George asked, standing up.
"It was good, how about you?"
"Relaxing, good to spend time with the family."
"I see you've been dyeing your hair again then. Dark blue looks good on you," Lando said with a grin.
"Thanks."
"Where we off to first then, Lando?" George asked the half Belgian to his right.
"Not a clue, let's wing it."
"Sounds good," I smiled.

"Dylan, come on! Max is right on our tail; we have to keep pushing! The DRS zone is only a few turns away, and if we don't put some time between him and us then we'll lose our position!"
"What the fuck do you think I'm doing, Jessie?"
"Push it!"
"I've got this, you just focus on driving."
I looked down at the steering wheel now in my hands, although I didn't feel the pedals at my feet. I navigated the car down the road, oversteer hitting me at two of the corners.
"I don't want to drive anymore, Dylan! You're better at it than me anyway." I thrust the steering wheel back at him and he took it, muttering what sounded like random words under his breath at me.
"I need to take this turn a little fast or else we'll lose," he said.
"The road is too wet, Dylan. Don't risk it!"
And in that moment, I felt weightless; like gravity had no effect on me anymore.
I felt Dylan try and grasp my hand, holding it tightly, but he was nowhere to be seen. All I could see was the halo and the ground fast approaching from above me. The impact was bone-shattering, and my head snapped sideways with the car as we hit a tree and rolled to a stop. I looked to my left and saw the twisted and bloodied body of my brother slumped over the steering wheel, glass fragments of the now broken windscreen scattered over him as he lay lifeless, his corpse constricted by the seatbelts that had failed to save him.
"No," I whispered, panic rising in my voice. "NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! FUCK!"