Dopamine | Adrenaline Book Two

23.2- Civil War

It seemed Lewis had the same idea, and as they both overtook Max simultaneously, they collided in the middle, sending each other off the track. Charles veered straight into the barriers with Lewis' car close behind.

Rain poured over the scene, mingling with the smoke from their cars, and all Charles could do was scream in frustration.

Repeatedly hitting his steering wheel, he couldn't believe the recklessness of their maneuvers and the bad luck that seemed to follow him. It felt as if Max had cursed him on the day he deemed him unlucky, yet blaming Max was unfair when the real culprit sat in his own car just a few feet away from him.

Redirecting his anger, Charles stormed out of the car and, as if they'd synced up in thoughts, Hamilton was already storming towards him.

"YOU SAW ME PASS YOU AND START TO MOVE IN ON MAX WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT," Charles yelled out, never having broken out in anger before but maybe this is who he needed to be to be taken seriously. He was just as much in this competition as Lewis and Max and even if his team was tilting towards a Lewis win, Charles sure as hell wasn't going to make it easy.

"Do you hear yourself, mate?" Lewis scoffed, "I had a position on you, I had every right to overtake."

The answer only further fueled Charles' anger, and if the marshals hadn't arrived, he wasn't sure how much longer he could have restrained himself.

The heated exchange between the two Ferrari drivers provided prime material for the media, with cameras struggling to focus on Max Verstappen, now leading the race, as the two drivers still bickered on track.

Upon arriving in the pits, both drivers were immediately greeted by an enraged Fred—a rare sight indeed. Instead of addressing both drivers together, the team principal allowed Lewis to pass to his side of the pits and headed straight for Charles, intercepting him.

"Charles, why did you do zat? You know Lewis eez at zee lead for zee championship, that eezn't good. Shouldn't 'ave fought, do you understand?"

Charles couldn't believe he was the one being scolded when it should have been Lewis for his reckless move to overtake. Arguing with the team principal would only harm his standing, so he clenched his jaw and remained silent. Frustrated and angry, Charles stormed past the shorter man, a deliberate snub, but it was preferable to the other actions he wanted to take.

"That doesn't mean he'll win," he muttered under his breath, tossing his helmet aside without concern for its condition. He wasted no time in his room, swiftly changing out of his racing suit into team merch he didn't want to wear but had no choice in. As if the race hadn't been hellish enough, there were still interviews waiting for him. After the spectacle he and Lewis had created, he knew the media would do their best to provoke him and elicit a reaction.

As he faced the door, his hand secured around the doorknob, Charles couldn't push himself to open it. The thought of facing the crowd outside, after everything that had piled up on him, was making his heart race. As he backed away, he noticed there were tears of anger staining his face.

Taking a seat on the bed, Charles buried his face into his hands and cried in a panic at the aftermath awaiting him. He had never felt so alone and now the one thing that had kept people liking him, was ruined. Everyone loved him because he was kind and put on a smile no matter how difficult a situation was but now he stood alone and completely broken. He had ruined the one thing he had left after having lost Max.

As he cried, his heart rate increased and soon he was heaving, unable to breathe properly. The weight on his chest was painful and his vision was blurry yet the harder he tried to calm himself the worse he got.