RED LINE [3]

03:00

Osbourne.

I was so out of my depth.

I watched the garage from the pit wall, mechanics rushing around a lot faster than they did in Formula Two, people everywhere, moving tyres, checking the car over, running sheets of paper between the garages.

Too much was going on at once and I was having a sensory overload.

The music in my air pods weren't loud enough as I tried to turn the volume up more, only to frown at the screen when it was already maxed out and I could still hear the commotion around me.

I paced back and forth, waiting for Andrew to tell me something witty and ridiculous to calm me down from the nerves that were overwhelming me.

Where is Madeline?

"Can you calm the fuck down; you're stressing me out." Andrew turned on his stool, moving his headphone over slightly as he hissed at me, glaring.

I stuck him up a middle finger and continued to pace.

We were starting at the back of the grid because we were a new team with no previous running's to place us any higher.

On the other end of the pit lane, I could just about see the Mercedes garage running around like headless chickens, Lewis Hamilton crossing between the pit wall and garage constantly.

"Has anyone seen Miss Scott?" I asked the guys on the pit wall who ignored me for the third time since originally asking the same question repeatedly.

I huffed and crossed the pit lane, dodging trollies of tyres and other various equipment, back into the garage where my dad was sat with a cup of coffee, a lot calmer than I was.

"What's wrong?" his eyebrows furrowed as I slumped against the wall next to him, closing my eyes as I take out my airpods.

I look at him, "have you seen Miss Scott, shouldn't she be here?" I say in a hushed tone, a group of mechanics passing us.

He looks around the rest of the garage, almost laughing, "why are you worried about that right now? Get your head in the game," he muttered, sipping on his coffee.

I shook my head, walking away from him.

"Don't go too far, you have a race soon," he calls from behind me.

I turn on my heel, saluting, before walking out the tunnel and back out into the paddock where it was slightly, slightly, quieter.

I find a quiet spot behind the trailers and kneel down, counting my breaths as I place my palms flat onto the ground before me.

The air was warm here despite it being night time, making it harder to calm myself when every pore in my body was leaking out liquid into my race suit.

I had been ready for hours, waiting and listening to the race strategy with my team mate, Jack Hummer.

He had been racing for Alpha Romeo last season but decided to switch. He was cocky, a few years older than me with a few more seasons under his belt that I did, he tried to give me some advice but was nothing further of 'don't get in my way.'

"What are you doing?"

A voice startles me.

A guy around my age was stood inbetween the static trailers, his hands on his hips as he raised an eyebrow at my crouched position.

"Do you need me to get a medic?" he asks pointing over his shoulder, "no, no I'm fine," I say through a strained smile, standing up straight.

He doesn't leave, making it difficult to leave the awkward interaction as he stands in the way of my only exit, still looking at me with a concerned look.