Burning Heart // CL16

Fourteen

Just FYI re the last chapter - I hope it wasn't too much or whatever, I didn't want things to be overly dramatic but I did want to show that two steps forwards = one step back still...plus you guys have the prologue for the basis for all this and we still don't know which option Lacey is going to choose... I'm having fun playing around with that fact even though I know for definite which one it is!

Also we are sort of meant to hate Charles and Lacey for this...cheating is the worst thing ever, totally inexcusable and I would never dream of condoning it - it's just a story - even if we don't like Marian...it's not her fault Charles is cheating!

Lacey...Lacey is just along for the ride unfortunately at this point and there's going to be a lot of that vibe throughout - Lacey wanting to get away but unfortunately being pulled into orbit of Charles... shiz happening... I don't even know yet myself! I just wanted to put it out there :)

Also you're getting a nice early post because I am awake at 4am lol soooo don't see the point in waiting two hours to post!can't lie my editing isn't always that thorough at the moment because I've read, reread and rewritten a lottttt of these chapters because I'm unsure so sorry in advance if it's a bit of a rollercoaster, y'all voted for it and yeah :)

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I used the fact that Charles' guard had come down and tore myself out of his arms and rushed out the door before he could stop me, having lulled him into a sense of calm as my crying ceased for a moment. I didn't go far though, when I get down to the end of the hallway I quickly lock myself in the bathroom that I know is there, leaning on the basin as I looked in the mirror seeing exactly what I expected. Me in tears. After a couple of minutes I splashed cold water on my face and after twenty minutes I'd organised for a car to pick me up from the track and take me directly to the airport. I knew that Kiraz would be able to take care of the stuff in our hotel, especially as I had packed already. Fortunately for me, I was weird and I liked to carry my passport around with me as a reassurance that I was able to escape any situation and although this was the first time in my life that's exactly what I did.

By midnight I was back in my flat with my mum and my dog, crying once more as I explained to her what was happening, trying to explain why I was so broken up about it without making her feel bad. I'm not convinced I did a good job though as she comforted me in my tears until I fell asleep. The next morning I woke up with Dylan lying next to me, and a blanket over me where I lay on the sofa, still in the same clothes as the day before. I see my mum in the kitchen, watching me cautiously as I ignore her presence and head straight to the shower before standing under it for almost forty-five minutes, repeatedly scrubbing at my skin to try and wash the feeling of his touch off me, the feeling of him all around me that was persisting despite the hours that had passed.

It's safe to say that I failed entirely.

I worked on autopilot for the next week, attending therapy three times in three days between the different projects I had to undertake with companies I'd committed to a while ago, before I knew that my mental health was going to be in the ground once more. It was alright though because it was largely just fashion shoots while I was in New York, although at one point Kiraz had to give me the equivalent of a bucket of coffee's worth of caffeine because I also had an interview to do for Cosmo magazine on travelling with Ferrari and the world of F1 and was tired from not sleeping. I'd love to say it was guilt that kept me up but if I was honest it was the flashbacks, constantly forcing me to relive those moments over and over again.

Then all of a sudden, the break was over and Spain came around. Fortunately, I was feeling more myself but being at the track sort of pushed me into my shell once more. I was mute almost the entire weekend, which was beyond disconcerting for Kiraz who didn't let go of my hand even once. It didn't help that Marian was there, as blissfully unaware as ever. Often it actually got to be too much for me to handle, so Kiraz and I would often exit whatever room she was in, if that was the garage we would excuse ourselves to the bar, if it was the bar then we were back in the garage.