Chapter three

1.4K 48 10
                                    

Author's note: if you want, tell me what you think of this story so far. Good reading :)


Max pov

I read once that children's talent for holding things up comes from ignorance. We don't know the why of some things, so we trust when we are told "I do this because I love you", so it's okay, isn't it?

I was ten years old when I started to notice things a little bit differently, I didn't know exactly what was going on, but I could tell that thinking that you are dying was not a normal thing, that your heart beating so loud that you could hear it was not normal, that vomiting because you cried too much was not normal. I was ten years old when I thought that maybe love wasn't slapping and screaming.

I told him something was wrong, "You are just a child Max, you are just throwing tantrums, you need to stop complaining and do better". So, I didn't talk about it anymore, I thought that if I did what he wanted there would be no screaming, and my heart wouldn't beat as fast as a formula 1 car at 300 km/h. But it happened again, repeatedly.

When there was screaming, I liked to imagine myself in Belgium with Mom and Vic, we would be sitting around the kitchen counter while Mom prepared our breakfast, there would be no screaming, just laughter. I hated the screaming, all the noise confused my mind, and it was bad, very bad.

After the screams came the purple.

I liked the purple, but unlike the blue of the sea, the purple would be marked on my skin, I liked the purple because it meant that the noise in my head would quiet down for a while, and when they came back it would be okay because I would press the purple and the noise would quiet down again. I hated the yellow, when it was there it was because the purple was gone, I couldn't drown out the noises with the yellow.

But the purple always came back, because you know, it is in the repetitions that everyday affections are built.

.

.

.

Monaco

2022

When I get home, I sit on the couch and look at the empty space where my trophy from last year should be. Seb brings me a glass of water and sits down next to me. He says nothing, I know he is internally debating what to say, I ask any deity other than '"are you okay?". But he doesn't say this.

- How long has this been happening?

- Don't worry about me Seb. - I answer without looking at him.

- That's not what I asked. How long has this been happening Max? Have you ever talked about this with anyone? - He asks and, for the first time since we got here, I look at him.

- It has a while, as I said don't worry, I have a psychologist, I started going at the beginning of the year, besides that Charles knows. - I answer truthfully.

- At the beginning of the year? So all this has to do with last year?

- Yes... no... I mean, more or less. - I take a breath and continue.

- This started well before formula 1, but I thought I was better for a while, but 2021 happened and brought all this back, so Charles helped me to seek help. I'm doing very well you know, but all this stuff about the budget ceiling happened and screwed up again, it's like I'm a defendant accused of murder during a trial with everyone pointing at me. I know I shouldn't have reacted like that, but all those people there, I don't know, made me very nervous. I'm tired of everything always going back there Seb, I thought in time it would stop, but it doesn't.

False GodWhere stories live. Discover now