F1 Romance Sample Stories ~ EggyWhoNow's Debut

Unrecognizable (Mini Series) 1: How did I get here? | Daniel Riccardo

Author's note: 

Sup! Another 3am inspiration coming right at ya!

This one is like a mini series for Danny Ric, it is in a sci-fi like genre I really want to explore the mental/psychological effects of his recent events in McLaren and leading up to him leaving the sport for a short while...as well as throw in a love element in there somehow because - why not?

Constructive feedback is always appreciated (as this is still a draft level work)! Enjoy

Eggy

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"Mira!" I screamed as I awoke in a panic that electrified my body and held my soul hostage, my breathing was shaky as I felt the sweat slowly run down the sides of my face, I looked around frantically praying she would be by my side...but no, I was alone and I was at... the beach? Huh? I sat up and pressed my hands deeper into the sand welcoming its coolness as it spread through my fingertips, providing an instant shot of relief "four counts in...four counts out" I repeated the dumb mantra for a few minutes in my head hoping it would help slow my breathing - but it was too early to tell.

Finally gaining a sense of my surroundings yet still wallowing in my situation, I slowly raised my head up to the skies, silently praying for a sign... where could she be? How did I get here? Why am I...before I could finish my questions, I was struck in awe by the sky filled with an array of colors, stars and constellations swirling around me shining in a cinematic, fantastical way.

Somehow all of this looked familiar as it had a surreal-esk feeling to it all...

"I have been here before" I mumbled, squinting my eyes into the star-lit night ahead to see the outlines of a colonial building cream with a green roof, then it hit me... I do know this place "this is Cottesloe beach back in Perth...but wasn't I just in...?" confusion muddling my thoughts.

Suddenly anxiety cut through my thinking "...no no no! This is not where I should be!" I shouted in despair wrapping my arms around my shins for stability feeling a hot tear falling down my cheeks... because I finally found the truth, I needed to find her as there was not much time left, I looked down to my arms and realised I was wearing my deep blue McLaren racing suit...what is happening? 

Surely, this cannot be real...I need to find a way out of here now...

"But this is where you need to be" a soft voice emerged from the darkness, I squinted my eyes desperate to identify the voice in the dark...

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"Riccardo, it's time" the engineer in papaya called as he handed over my balaclava and racing helmet. I shook my head back and forth rapidly as all my senses were thrust into overdrive... the brightness of the sunlight striking me in the eyes like daggers, the roars of formula 1 cars as they began lining up on the grid ready for another battle in the war that is the 2021 season and a wave of anxiety as I feel a sea of eyes all on me... 

"Daniel?" the engineer tilted his head in concern, "Yep, yep on it" I respond quickly, waving him away with my hand as a soft voice creeps into my thoughts "you are the cool guy, chill and lighthearted, you have to keep up appearances, just do what they tell you to do...and it will all be okay".

I hurried to put my balaclava and helmet on and jumped into my McLaren determined to ignore the voices lurking in the back of my mind and the stone sinking to the pit of my stomach. 

"Will I be able to meet everyone's expectations of me?" I had to shove it down as now was not the time to begin questioning my abilities...

Strapped in and given the thumbs up I grip the wheel and push my right foot down..."whatever it takes..." I whisper to myself, "I will get back up again even if I have to crawl my way there".

I line up at the grid, my heart racing, breath steady but heavy in anticipation... I visualise in my mind the first few turns of the Istanbul Park Circuit, I see the green flag waving in my review mirror then set my sights on the lights above us as they glow red then...nothing and suddenly the grid is all but behind me...

"P13 Daniel, P13" Stallard states of the radio, I never used to hate numbers the way I do now, but since starting with McLaren, after hearing any number bigger than 10 after any race it creates a series of knots in chest, a wave of panic as I relive the insanity of my situation - that I am not meeting expectations and I am falling down, everything I have worked so hard for slipping through my fingers...

I return to a silent garage, except for a couple of murmurs, taking my helmet off, gloves and such without stopping I make my way straight to my trailer head down and eyes downcast. I collapse down onto the sofa and close my eyes... 

I beg, plead in my head to some imaginary savior "please, how did I get here? Help me I can't lose this - it's my life" as a tear slowly escapes down my cheek. Soon sleep takes me away from these feelings that consume me.