Way to the Glory [Max Verstappen]

Chapter 41 - Watch out

TW: Mentions of violance and almost rape 

Flashbacks (03.11.2015 (age 17))
The crisp autumn air hung heavy with tension as I stormed down the staircase, the echo of my heels clashing with Charles' worried voice behind me. "Ane, please, can we talk about this?"

I spun around, frustration etched across my face, my 17-year-old self rebelling me against the invisible chains Charles was trying to wrap around me. "Talk about what, Charles? Your never-ending mission to protect me from every possible danger?"

His eyes bore into mine, a mixture of concern and something deeper, an emotion I couldn't quite decipher. "You're my little sister, Ane. I can't help but worry. I've lost enough already."

I rolled my eyes, the teenage defiance coursing through my veins. "I'm not a child anymore, Charles. I can take care of myself."

His gaze flickered, and I caught a glimpse of the pain that lingered in his eyes, a pain that resonated with the losses he'd endured. "I just don't want to see you hurt. You mean everything to me."

I huffed, pushing a strand of my unruly hair behind my ear. "You can't control everything, Charles. I want to live my life, not be trapped in this bubble you've created."

The mention of control struck a chord, and for a moment, his eyes darkened. "This is not about control, Ane. It's about keeping you safe. I can't bear the thought of losing you too."

The weight of his words sank in, a stark reminder of the fragility of life in the fast lane Charles raced through. "I get it, Charles. I know we've lost Jules and dad already. But I'm not them, and you can't suffocate me because you're afraid of losing someone else."

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I can't help it, Ane. It's like a reflex. Every time someone I care about is out of my sight, I fear the worst."

"Well, you're going to have to learn to let go, Charles. I'm not a porcelain doll. I won't shatter into a million pieces if I step out of your protective gaze for a night."

The lines etched on his forehead deepened as he searched for the right words. "It's not just about tonight. It's about every night. Every time you step into that chaotic world, I can't shake the fear that you might not come back."

His vulnerability caught me off guard, the armor he wore in public now cracked, revealing the brother who had weathered storms far too early in life. "Charles," I softened my tone, realizing the depth of his fears, "I promise I'll be careful. But I need to live, not just exist. I need to experience things beyond the confines of safety you've built for me."

His gaze met mine, the turmoil in his eyes reflecting the internal battle he fought. "Ane, you don't understand. It's not just about losing someone. It's about losing you."

My defiance wavered as the weight of his words sank in. Charles wasn't just being overprotective; he was grappling with the ghosts of his past. The losses that haunted him every time someone he cared about sped away on the track.

"I love you, Ane. You are my only sister, you mean more than anything to me in this world. I can't bear the thought of something happening to you," he confessed, his voice raw with emotion.

I took a step closer, closing the physical and emotional distance between us. "Charles, I'm not asking you to stop caring. I'm just asking for the freedom to make my own choices, to learn from my own mistakes. I need you to trust that I'll find my way back, just like you do on the racetrack."

He sighed, a heavy exhale that seemed to release some of the tension in the air. "I know you're not a child anymore, Ane. And I do trust you. It's just..."