Melody of death | English Version | Charles Leclerc FF

forty-eight ఌ

C É L I N A

I listened to the quiet slumber behind me while I sat awake at the edge of the bed and stared holes in the air.  From outside I could still hear the voices of the fans, which figured out the hotel and abuses this situation to keep hunting me. They screamed my name. Bounded with insults and hateful comments. Before Charles fell asleep, he had begged me to ignore these people. He said that they would do that because they were jealous on me. And yeah, maybe he's right, but that doesn't make it hurt me less.

In bed, I had pretended to fall asleep quickly while I felt Charles rolling back and forth restlessly. It had taken a half eternity until he had finally came to rest. But I was not able to go to sleep. It was not only the voices from outside that kept me awake, it was also my head that almost overflowed with feelings and thoughts. I worried about Charles. He had been different than usual today. There was so much pain in his eyes and it hurt me in my heart when he hadn't been able to free the words in his mouth. I don't why his mood was like this but my inner voice kept telling me that it was my fault.

„Finally fly home again, you fucking bitch!", I pinched my eyes and sank back into bed. When would these people finally go home?

Without my coffee the next morning, which I drank on the way to the racetrack, I would probably have fallen asleep in the car. I was glad that it was so early when we arrived at the racetrack that we didn't meet any fans or many paparazzi. Like always, I made it comfortable above the garages while Charles was in meetings, cared about media stuff and prepared usual things for the race. There was so much going on that day, that we couldn't really see each other. After the drivers parade, however, I looked for him in his box, where he leaned deeply in thought against the wall. I softly put my hand on his arm to not scare him too much.  A smile played around his dry lips and made my heart pound. „Good luck for the race.", I wished him, whereupon he pulled me into his strong arms and breathed a kiss on my hairline. I noticed to him, as I did yesterday, that he was busy with something. At the same time I knew, that it wouldn't be helpful to speak with him about this before the race. It could upset him and that's something I didn't want to risk.

After the formation lap, the drivers came back to their place on the lineup. On time for the race start, I watched the lights turning red and then black again. The blood in my veins froze to ice and got pulled through my whole body with more push. I listened to the sound of the engines how they howled. Charles had a good start and on the screen opposite the Pitlane I could see how he pushed himself in front of Lando in the first corner and gained the 5th place. The first 10 laps were among the most exciting for the time being, as the drivers were still at a short distance from each other in this lap window and tight curves, in which there was almost touch, made me almost forget to breathe. Fortunately, Charles first got away without complications and had even fought his way to fourth place. But then, in lap 45 happened exactly that, what I've always been scared of the most. I saw how the marshalls waved the red flag and heard how the commentator screamed around completely stunned. When he mentioned Charles' name, the blood in my veins froze ice-cold. I stared in the screen which showed curve 5. Dust flooded the camera and only when you looked closer, you could see what had happened. I slapped my hand in front of my mouth, held my breath and my heart pounded so loudly that I thought it could jump out of my chest. The front wing of Charles' car got stuck in the barriers and one of the rear tires only hung on rope and thread. What happened? And above all, when does Charles finally get out?

I tried to split the voice of the commentator from
the audience of the fans. Instead, I heard a radio message from the team to Charles being transmitted on the screens, in which Ferrari asked him if everything was fine. Apparently as a repetition, because the voice of the person who spoke sounded more demanding.
I didn't dare to breathe, didn't move a millimeter. Then a stone fell off my heart. Charles answered. „I'm okay. Sorry for the team. It was my fault.", his voice sounded disappointed and trembled. Although the relief that he was okay at least outwardly made me breathe again, my throat was all the drier because I now knew Charles well enough to see that it looked very different inside him.