then you flashed your green eyes at me || Charles Leclerc

chapter thirty-nine

It hurt.

She didn't know why, exactly. But she knew that it hurt.

She was seven. She had just gotten back from school, with a grade her parents considered barely decent.

She had studied so much for that test, she remembered how painful it had been to keep up with her school work and home chores, and all that effort hadn't been recognized.

She had been happy when she first saw that 8/10 on that piece of paper. Her classmates had congratulated her, even the teacher had said she had done a good job.

But then she had gotten home.

"Only 8/10? Really? What are you, stupid?" her mother had yelled.

"You're never going to be anyone in your life if you don't get these tests right. They're basic, easy math. You need to get your shit together Emma. This is a terrible result" her father had said.

And just like that, everything fell. Her pride? Gone. Her efforts? Vanished. Her confidence? Destroyed.

She was six, and already labeled as a failure.

"The problem with kids is that they will believe you, whatever you tell them" she told Charles. "If you tell a toddler that he's smart, or beautiful, or worthy, he will believe you. If you tell a toddler that they suck, they're a failure, they're stupid, they will believe you. And so did I. I believed them, every single time they brought me down. I worked my ass off to get the best grades, and be the best at everything, and clean the house and behave as they wanted to. But it was never enough. I was never enough."

Charles was trying to hold back tears, and she was avoiding look at him.

"You know those little crafts they make you do in kindergarden, or elementary school? For different festivities?" she asked. He nodded, letting a whispered 'yes' out. She nodded back. "They were never appreciated. It's not like you can expect your fucking ordinary kid to be a Michelangelo or a Caravaggio. But no, I had to be a prodigy in everything. 'Happy birthday mum!' and I would give her a card. 'Happy birthday dad!' and I would give him a card. I always found them in the trash. They wouldn't even say thank you. They would just throw them away, every single time, every single year. 'Merry Christmas!' and they wouldn't even look at the drawings I made. I wouldn't even get a gift. I think the only present I've ever gotten from them was on my tenth birthday. It was a fucking book about medicine. They were fixated on this idea that I should become a studyaholic or some sort of genius and become a doctor - possibly a neurologist , as if it was easy - and earn money to sustain them throughout their old age. But God, I was ten. I didn't even know what fucking neurology was." she almost yelled, angry at her memories.

"The only actual presents - suitable for my age - were from Lando and his family" she smiled weakly. "We would see each other every summer, and sometimes his parents would convince mine to let me fly with them to see Lando race. Of course, to other people they acted like we were the perfect family. And it was so confusing? Cause they would tell me in my face that I was ignorant and useless and then I would hear them tell Lando's parents that they were so proud of me and that I was an amazing daughter. And then we would get home and suddenly I was invisible again. And if I asked for food outside of the designated times I would get hit. And if I got an A- instead of a full A I would get put in a closet for hours. That's where my fear of closed spaces comes from, and that's why I felt like I did when I was locked on the roof. It was a locked door, no getting out" she said.

"I don't like losing control" she sighed. "Cause when I lost control over the smallest things, I would get punished. So I had to be able to master everything. And that's why I get nervous when there's something that is not in my reach, or when I know I want something but I can't do anything to have it. I think that's part of why this whole YouTube thing took off in the first place. I need to be the best and I need to be in control. This way I can't be compared to anyone cause we all do different things, and no one can tell me how to manage it, cause it's only mine" she shrugged.

"Back to the present thing, sorry I drifted off a bit" she recollected herself. "Lando got me a pair of socks at the end of the first summer we spent together. He said that it was my Christmas present, and I asked him why he gave one to me"

"Well, because you give presents to the people you love and care about, for Christmas or for their birthdays. Sometimes even just because you want to!" he had explained. She had smiled sadly, not understanding why her parents didn't love her.

"Thank you" she said. "I didn't know, or I would've gotten you something!" she whined.

"It's okay. I wanted to give you a present, I didn't need anything in return!" he had smiled. She looked around in the hotel hall, trying to find something free to give him.

Her eyes fell on a bowl full of candies on the front desk, and she had walked there, looking at the worker. "Are these free?" she had asked. The worker said that they were, and she had taken five and had handed them to him.

"This one is for you" she said, pointing at the orange one. Then she looked indecisive, her gaze moving around the other ones she had on the palm on her hand. "The others are for your family, but I don't know their favorite colors so you will have to choose" she had said.

"Thank you Emma" he looked happy, even though it was just a small candy. Her heart felt happy as well.

"I will see you next summer?" she had asked.

"I hope so!" he had said, hugging her. Then he had said bye for the last time - as well as his parents and siblings - and had walked away hand in hand with them.

"And the rest is history" she said. "I still have those socks somewhere in my drawers, I've always refused to throw them away or donate them"

"That's very sweet" Charles said. She nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is"