Until my last breath

2

April 24 2022
Barcelona, Spain.

                       The spanish grand prix

RADIO
-"The tires are losing it but it's the last lap Bianchi ,keep it up!"

-"I will trust me."

My foot slams down harder on the pedal, demanding every ounce of speed left in the car. The tires are worn, barely gripping the track, but I don't care. I throw a glance at the left mirror and see the DAMS car shrinking in the distance. It's working. My plan is working. But my body is on fire, seared by the engine's heat for the last 90 minutes. The discomfort only fuels my hunger. I need this win. I need it more than anything.

I need to be the first to cross that finish line. I need to stand on the highest step of the podium, not just for myself, but for my family, my friends, and my team—the people who've believe in me, who've sacrificed alongside me. Above all, I need this win for the legacy I carry on my back, for my uncle, and for every sacrifice I've made to be here.

The thought hardens my resolve, tightening my grip on the wheel as I approach the final turn. The tires are screaming, their last bit of strength slipping away. But I don't panic. I ease off the pedal, controlling the slide. My breath quickens, my neck muscles burn, but I hold the car steady as it hugs the corner.

Smooth.

As soon as the car straightens out, I slam my foot back down, the final stretch rushing toward me. The finish line is there, just meters away. And in the blink of an eye, I cross it.

Victory.

Radio
-"ALLEZ"

-"Great race Bianchi. You're most definitely the winner of the championship."

-"GRAZIE GARY! GRAZIE PER TUTTO I LOVE YOU!

My words spill out in a rush, barely able to contain the surge of emotion and excitement. I hear Gary's laugh crackle over the radio, his amusement at my electrified state making me grin as I finish my cooldown lap. The adrenaline is still coursing through me, but I can feel the blood finally starting to flow smoother, the heat from the engine pressing into my back slowly fading. I'm honestly shocked the tires didn't shred with the amount of pressure I put on them today.

As I circle the track, I take in the sight of the stands—fans waving their flags, most of them Ferrari and Red Bull banners as they prepare for the F1 race that's up next. But it's the Prema flags, the posters with my name, and the very few young girls wearing my number that catch my attention. Those moments never fail to hit me. They remind me why I do this, why every grueling second on the track is worth it. I stretch my arm out through the halo and wave, and when the crowd notices, the love comes back in waves, their energy filling me up.

The P1 sign held up by the paddock team brings everything into sharp focus. I stop the car, finally allowing myself to take a deep, needed breath, but the sounds around me—the screaming, the shouting, the celebration—are already rushing in. I want to leap out, to bask in it all, but my body is too worn to just spring from the seat. So, I pause for a moment, savoring it, before I finally rise with the steering wheel in hand.

Climbing out of the car feels surreal. I place the wheel back in its spot and step onto the front of my car, my eyes scanning the sea of people surrounding me. My smile stretches wider, the sensation almost overwhelming. It all feels too good to be real. I lift both arms in victory, and the cheers explode, the noise swelling around me, embracing me.

I won... again.

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I tried my best guys hope you like it.. Im sorry for the people readinf this for the 3rd time.🙏