Breaking the Grid

Break

"Do you want to take a breath outside?" she asks, her voice calm and understanding. I hesitate. Part of me wants to stay here, curled up in the comfort of my room, but another part of me feels like the walls are closing in. The thought of facing the girls downstairs is too much, though. I shake my head slightly, but before I can say anything, Melissa cuts through my thoughts.

"Stop overthinking, Blair," she says firmly, but there's kindness in her eyes. "You can do whatever you want. Don't do it for the others."

I take a shaky breath, trying to push away the anxious thoughts racing through my mind. "Yeah... I... it would be nice to go outside," I say softly, almost surprising myself with the words. Melissa nods, helping me up from the bed and grabbing my coat from the chair.

We make our way downstairs, and the moment we step onto the landing, I hear a chair scrape across the floor and footsteps rush toward us. Of course. Leah. God, this girl. She's always there, always checking in, always caring. It's overwhelming sometimes, but it's Leah, and I know her heart's in the right place.

"Blair, are you okay?" she asks, her voice full of concern. I can't bring myself to answer, not right now. I feel too raw. But Melissa steps in, answering for me, her voice calm and reassuring. I nod slightly in Leah's direction, trying to acknowledge her without actually speaking.

Melissa and I head out the door, stepping into the cold night air. It's crisp, biting at my skin, but refreshing in a way that clears my head just a little. We walk down the driveway toward the bench near the garden, and for a moment, it's quiet. But it's a comfortable silence, the kind that doesn't need to be filled with words. That's something I appreciate about Melissa. She never pushes. She knows when I need space, when I need to talk, and when I just need someone to sit with me.

I glance at her hands rubbing together. She's probably cold. The thought makes me feel a little guilty for dragging her out here. I stare at the ground for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts before speaking. "I think about F1 all the time," I admit quietly. "Is that bad?"

Melissa's gaze shifts to me, and she tilts her head slightly. "It's not bad, Blair. You've dedicated your life to it. It's a huge part of who you are."

I let out a long breath, my thoughts heavy. "But... at the same time, I hate it now. McLaren is probably going to replace me. I know it. If the reserve driver is better... I might never race again."

Melissa leans forward, her eyes locking onto mine, calm but serious. "Blair, you have to stop thinking like that. No one can replace you, not as a driver, not as who you are. You've built something that no one can take away. And even if you're on a break, that doesn't mean it's over."

Her words settle over me like a warm blanket, but the doubt still lingers. I shake my head slightly. "They told me to rest, to take it at my own pace, but... I know what they're all thinking. They're waiting for me to fail. They'll never understand."

Melissa studies me for a moment before asking, "Then why don't you tell them your story? Make them understand."

Her question catches me off guard. I blink at her, my mind racing. "What do you mean?" I ask, my voice quiet.

"Your story, Blair," she says softly. "All the things you've been through, all the pressure you've felt, the way it's impacted you. People don't always see the human side behind the athlete. If you want them to understand, maybe it's time you show them who you really are."

I look down, my hands gripping the edge of the bench tightly. "I don't know if I can," I mumble. "I'm not good at talking about... everything. And what if they don't care? What if it doesn't change anything?"