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MARCH 19TH 2022 📍SAKHIR, BAHRAIN ────────────────────────────────
Camille's debut season at Toro Rosso, renamed AlphaTauri, had shaped up to be a pretty great experience, despite the occasional rough patch here and there. It had been thrilling, the adrenaline rush that ran through her veins after each straight and turn, chasing away the dark thoughts of past failures and replacing them with the burning determination to get better. The constant fear of losing, the stress of having to perform flawlessly, her anxiety and frustration when her teammate gave her a run for her money, or the intense competition when she faced her personal worst nightmare.
It all led her here today.
That rookie season had been the most demanding season of her career thus far. Physically demanding, mentally exhausting and emotionally draining in terms of both training and performances. When it came to performance, it wasn't just a matter of accelerating to the finish line ahead of the opponent; it was an art form, requiring focus and precision, patience and skill. It wasn't just physically tiring, she had to put up with being surrounded by people constantly wanting to know her every move, wanting to talk to her. Not knowing whether it was good for her ego to hear praise or insults from others.
But then, she wouldn't have it any other way.
Being the centre of gossip and attention was nothing new to her. She had been the face of AlphaTauri ever since her debut at twenty years old. She had done nothing to earn the label, but that didn't stop people from trying to place her in different social situations. As the only woman on the grid, she attracted attention no matter where she was. There was no party she was excluded from or any secret rendezvous she was denied. People had their eyes on her constantly. Every little detail of her day was being documented by paparazzi, journalists and fans alike. Everyone wanted something from her, a glimpse into the unknown, and she welcomed it gladly. What else was there to do?
Being compared to her teammate, Pierre Gasly, certainly wasn't easy, and his behaviour was nothing short of obnoxious and infuriating. Someone who had been nothing short of perfect in almost everyone's eyes and who, for whatever reason, refused to acknowledge that he was capable of doing anything below perfection, was an utter nuisance to be around. Yet, the media still latched onto him like a lifeline during every race weekend, feeding off of every little detail that happened. If he failed, they'd write about it, and the public would eat it up. If he succeeded, they'd scream it, but no one was sure how far their enthusiasm extended. He was the star of the show, yet he always seemed to be missing some parts of it. Maybe that was part of his appeal. He was a mystery wrapped in a package, one you just couldn't look away from, but never get close to. Some people loved that, others found it annoying. Competing against someone so talented, yet not showing a glimpse of care, was probably the biggest pain in the ass she could think of.
