Eyes Don't Lie | Charles Leclerc

Part 19 | The Last Chicane

December 2022 

*The Final Flashback*

The rest of the season was a nightmare, a never ending spiral of failure and frustration. After the incident in France, Pierre and Carlos handled everything, squashing the photos that girl had taken, paying her off, and making her sign an NDA. They did it quickly and quietly, like it was just another part of the job. I don't know what I'd do without them. 

I should have been grateful, but instead, I felt hollow, like I'd lost something important that I couldn't get back. On top of that, the rest of the season was shit. I DNF'd in Baku, then again in Abu Dhabi. 

Every race felt like I was dragging myself through quicksand, each step heavier than the last. The wins never came back. A few podiums were all I could manage, and even those felt like failures, reminders of what could have been. 

Mattia was a constant source of anger, his lies and excuses piling up until I couldn't stand the sight of him. Every time he tried to blame me for poor results, it was like he was twisting a knife deeper into my chest. The trust was gone, shattered by broken promises and bad strategies that cost me everything. I hated him for what he'd done to me, to the team, to the season that should have been ours. 

After France, I felt like a robot, programmed to go through the motions without feeling a thing. The rest of the season was a blur of media engagements, Ferrari events, and sponsor dinners, each one blending into the next. I'd smile for the cameras, shake hands, and say the same thing over and over again, "Forza Ferrari." 

Each time those words left my mouth, they felt emptier, more meaningless. It was getting harder and harder to say them. How could I believe in something that had let me down so completely? But I kept saying it because that's what they expected. Smile, take the photo, say the line. It was all scripted, and I was just playing my part. 

As soon as the events were over, I'd disappear. No one noticed, or maybe they just didn't care. I'd slip away to my hotel room, lock the door behind me, and let the mask fall off. That's when the truth would hit me, the crushing weight of everything I was trying to bury beneath a facade of smiles and empty words. 

The bottle became my only companion, the only thing that seemed to make sense anymore. Liquor was my escape, my liquid truth. It didn't judge me, didn't expect anything from me. It just numbed the pain, dulled the anger, and drowned out the noise in my head. I'd sit there, alone in the dark, letting the alcohol take over, hoping it would silence the thoughts that wouldn't stop. 

But it never did. The more I drank, the more they screamed at me, reminders of everything that had gone wrong, of the dreams that had slipped through my fingers, of the man I was supposed to be but couldn't find anymore. 

Each night, I'd sink deeper into that darkness, feeling it wrap around me, and I didn't have the strength to fight it. I'd wake up the next morning, the taste of regret thick in my mouth, the emptiness still there, gnawing at my insides. 

But I'd push it down, force myself to get up, and do it all over again. Smile, take the photo, say the line. It was all I knew how to do anymore. But with each passing day, it was getting harder to pretend. The words felt like a lie, the smile like a mask I couldn't take off, no matter how much I wanted to. And deep down, I knew that if something didn't change, if I didn't find a way out of this spiral, there wouldn't be anything left of me to save.

Abu Dhabi was the final nail in the coffin. I came here with nothing left to lose, but even that wasn't enough. I pretty much had secured P2 in the Championship, letting the wins lip right through my fingers. The final race started with a glimmer of hope, but it was quickly snuffed out. Lap after lap, I could feel the car struggling, the engine pushing to its limits. 

My engineer, Xavi, was in my ear, trying to keep me calm, but I could hear the doubt in his voice. When he said, "We are checking," I knew it was over before it even happened. 

The engine failed on lap 23. It just died, leaving me coasting to a stop, powerless. I could hear the cheers from the grandstands, the roars as other drivers flew past, but it all faded into the background as I sat there, staring at the dashboard, the realization sinking in. 

I was done. The season was done. I couldn't bear to listen to the radio anymore, so I ripped off my helmet and threw it against the side of the car. I didn't care who saw or what they thought. I was beyond caring. 

Climbing out of the car, I could feel the eyes of the world on me, but I ignored them all, storming off the track, away from the cameras, away from the team. Carlos snagged a P2 podium, and I should have been happy for him. He deserved it after all the shit we'd been through, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I was too lost in my own anger, too consumed by the bitterness that had been building inside me for months. 

I walked through the paddock, past the garages, past the reporters, past the people who wanted answers. I had none to give. My head was down, my fists clenched, and I didn't stop until I was alone, away from everyone, where I could finally breathe. But even there, in the silence, the anger wouldn't leave. It twisted in my gut, a constant reminder of how everything had gone wrong. 

I thought about the team, about Mattia, about all the mistakes, and it was too much. I leaned against the wall, my eyes squeezed shut, trying to hold it together, but it was useless. The tears came anyway, hot and angry, as I sank to the floor, finally letting the weight of the season crush me. 

I don't know how long I sat there, but eventually, I heard footsteps. I looked up, expecting to see Carlos or Pierre, but it was just a shadow, someone passing by, probably not even realizing I was there. And for the first time, I was glad. Glad to be invisible, to be forgotten, because I couldn't stand the thought of facing anyone right now. 

Abu Dhabi was supposed to be the end of the road, the end of this horrible season, but it felt like the beginning of something much worse. The darkness I'd been fighting all year was back, stronger than ever, and I didn't know if I had the strength to fight it anymore.

The world wasn't prepared to see Charles Leclerc for a long time...and that was a promise. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Author's Note: The final flashback everyone, a chapter covering all we needed to know! Phew 2022 is done. We've officially seen what Charlie has endured and what led him to fall into a bush on NYE. Going forward the scenes will continue on 2023... Buckle up 😊