Open up again || Mick Schumacher

7 - The text message

Hey it's Erik, I know there's been some time since we last spoke and i'm sorry for everything that happened. I saw that you were a reporter at the F1 broadcast today and wanted to check in on you. How are you?

I felt how my heartbeat grew quicker as I read the text message. Suddenly, I wasn't at the club anymore. I were home in Chicago, in the apartment, crying. All memories came back, all anxiety, all tears. Everything I'd try to forget over the past year came back, in a millisecond. Everything.

Why? Why did he have to send a text message to me? Why? Why couldn't he just let me be? Why?

Was it one of his stupid games? Now when it's finally going good for me and now when I'm finally starting to move on. Now he wants me? The guy who said I would never make it, never succeed as a reporter. Now he wants me, because I made it?

Or I knew it was why. He didn't care of me before, even if he made it look like that on the surface. Though, now when I've accomplished something, he cares.

"Hey Alice, you okey", I heard Charles say, as it brought me back to reality and the night club. He stood there with a concerned glance, when I looked up at him from the phone.

"Yeah, I'm okey. I'm just gonna go to the toilet. You can go back to the others", I smiled trying to sound so convincing as possible, even though there was a tornado in my body. I looked down, as I felt the tears taking over my eyes. I wanted to tell Charles about the text, but I couldn't. I didn't want to destroy his happiness. He was partying, having fun, singing with the other drivers and I couldn't destroy that. Even though he didn't win the race earlier today, he was so happy. And who were I to destroy that?

So instead of telling him, me and Charles said goodbye to each other, and I instead tried to make my way to the toilet. All I wanted was away, gone, to forget. I couldn't stand my thoughts. I couldn't stand going back to the memories, the ones back to tears and anxiety. I couldn't stand having him in my head. I just wanted to forget.

When I made it to the toilet, I picked up my phone. I had to call my brother, I had to talk to him, I had to hear his voice. I called, no reply. I tried again, no reply. I tried a third time, no reply. He always use to be available and text me, when I'm at parties. Why doesn't he pick?

Then I realized. He were at the airplane back to Indianapolis. Him and I had talked before the party, where he'd told me his flight back would departure at 09:30 pm.

I tried to call my friends instead. All four of them, but no one picked up. "C'mon, pick up!!" I screamed, as I sat there on the toilet. I felt as my breathing quickened. I tried to think of why non of them picked up. They would always answer, at least one of them.

Right, they're at the movies, I realized, as I started to panic.

Fuck, what do I do now? I have to talk to someone, I have to forget, I have to get him, the memories, everything out of my head.

Alcohol

I got up from the toilet seat, looked into the mirror and was meet by a face looking like it belonged on a panda. I told myself to stop cry as I tried to fix my destroyed make up, wiping of the mascara under my eyes. After, I stumbled my way out of the door on shaking legs and with a heart feeling like it would jump out of my body at any second. When I reached my target, the bar, I ordered three vodka shots.

I took up the first shot, with a hand shaking. I put it close to the mouth, tilted my head back and poured the liquide into my mouth. I swallowed hard, as I felt how the alcohol poisoned my throat. I grimaced, due to the taste taking over my mouth. Though, without any hesitation I grabbed the second shot. The same procedure occurred after. Tilted head, hard swallowing and a burning throat. The third one went down with the same determination as the first two.