CHECKERED FLAG - c.l [2]

DNF

I had crashed, during qualifying.

On my home track.

Maggots and Beckets, that dammed corner, cutting it too close to the edge and my tyre slipping out from under my car, causing me to slide off onto the grass, knocking my nose off and the car not turning on again.

I could hear the frustration in Toto's voice as he asked me if I was okay, banging my steering wheel with my fists in anger.

I didn't reply, that pit opening up in my stomach as I undid my safety harness, pulling myself up and out of the car, the exhaust letting out an ungodly amount of smoke, marshals rushing over with fire extinguishers and a medic to my aid.

I push them away, medically sound but too annoyed to be pestered with their questions.

I look back at the car, the red bull passing it with ease, ignoring the yellow flag, almost tormenting me as it's engine shifted through the gears gracefully.

I hopped into the safety car, which dropped me back in the garage where the team photographer asked me if I was alright, I ignored, just like I ignored everyone else for the rest of the day.

I would be starting at the back of the grid tomorrow for the race, a track I knew like the back of my hand I could've raced it with my eyes closed, but my best efforts to push the boundaries got the better of me and cost me that pole position.

I rip my race suit off in the changing room, pulling on my white Mercedes shirt and blue Levi's, my sunglasses over my eyes so people wouldn't see the snaring glances if they asked me more ridiculous questions.

Amanda was nowhere to be seen these days, always preoccupied with something or someone else and I was thankful as I left the changing rooms, my air pods playing music to drown out the crowds as I exited the Mercedes tunnel.

"Madeline, what happened out there?" David Croft tried to shove a microphone into my face but I put my hand up to try and dismiss him respectfully without snapping at him in front of his camera crew.

"Do you think you'll still make pole position for tomorrow's race?" another ridiculous question from Croft, I expected nothing else from the man.

"Are the rumours true? Are you going back to Ferrari to be with Charles?"

I halted in my step, the paddock gates only a few paces away, a few more steps and I'd be back in my car and home for the evening in the comfort of my home where I'd have dinner with Dee and forget about the days failures.

But something in me boiled with the sound of David's voice asking such idiotic questions at this time, I found myself turning to face him, a grimacing look on my face as I push my sunglasses back on my head so he could see my eyes and how utterly disgusted I was with him to be even speaking of those headlines to me.

"Mr Croft, David, I'll call you, because we seem to be close enough for you to ask me such barbaric comments," I took a step towards him as his demeaner changed from confident to worried, taking a step back away from me.

He looks between me and his camera man who still had his camera pointed directly at me before I pinned my eyes on the poor soul who had to encounter me on a day like today, turning his camera to point down at the floor now.

"Ask me another pathetic, gossip-digging question like that again and I'll ruin your career just like I did with Ferrari's," I pointed at him.

He acted like my finger was a gun, flinching as I rose it to his eye level, never looking away from me as I spoke.

"Do you understand?" I spit, looking him up and down, his camera man already nodding his head, the yellow Hi-Viz almost blinding me as much as the sun was now.