𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐈 | 𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔

𝐗𝐋𝐈𝐈

·˚ ༘

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April 5th 2024

CHARLES LECLERC

As I pushed the car through the fast corners of Suzuka, everything felt perfect. It was only the second free practice of the weekend, but everything was already going so well. The car responded to my every touch, gliding through the apexes with precision. Lap times were promising, and I could feel the momentum building.

Then, in a split second, it all went south. The rear end snapped loose as I braked hard for the hairpin, sending the car into a spin. The impact with the barrier was violent, jolting my entire body forward.

Pain exploded through my foot as I tried to move it, a sharp, throbbing ache that shot up my leg with every heartbeat. I radioed the team, my voice tense with frustration and worry. "I've crashed. My foot... it hurts. I think it's pretty bad."

The medical team arrived quickly, and they worked fast as they carefully got me out of the car and began to assess the damage. Every movement sent fresh waves of agony through my foot, making it hard to focus on anything else. I gritted my teeth, trying to stay calm, but the pain was relentless, a constant, throbbing reminder of the crash.

As they loaded me onto the stretcher, I caught glimpses of the concerned faces around me. My team's worried expressions mirrored my own fears. They rushed me to the medical center, where I was placed on a bed in the examination room.

Lying on the medical bed, I glanced around, trying to distract myself from the pain. That's when I spotted her—an Asian girl, her hands moving gently as she examined my foot. She was efficient and thorough, but her face seemed familiar. I tried to place her, but the pain made it hard to focus.

Francesca stood nearby, her face full of concern and worry as she watched from the sidelines. Her eyes met mine briefly, and she gave me a small reassuring smile. I tried to smile back, but the pain was too intense. It felt like my foot was on fire, every heartbeat sending fresh waves of agony through my leg.

"How bad is it?" I managed to ask through gritted teeth.

"We're still assessing," the familiar-looking medic replied, her voice calm and soothing. "We'll get you patched up soon."

I nodded, closing my eyes and trying to breathe through the pain. Every movement sent fresh spikes of pain through my foot, making it hard to think about anything else. I just wanted it to stop, to have some relief from the relentless throbbing.

All I could do was focus on getting through this, one painful breath at a time.

ZAHRA NICHOLS

I watched from the sidelines as Charles was taken away by the medical team. I tried my best to get a glimpse of his face amidst the chaos, but I couldn't. The entire scene was crowded, far away from where I was sat, and as much as I wanted to, I couldn't get a good look at him. 

After a few hours of waiting, Anderson approached me with a grim look on his face. 

"Got an update," he said, his voice steady but serious. "Charles will need some training and rehab to get better. I've got permission to report on his recovery. Nichols, you're going to cover it. I understand your friend is a medic who'll be helping him, that should help."