Breaking the Grid

He did what ?

⭐️Today is a pretty long chapter ⭐️

Today feels monumental. I have a meeting lined up, but it's not a medical appointment—this time, I'm seeing a journalist. Yesterday, I finally gathered the courage to dive into my social media. The first images I encountered were clips of my crash, replaying the moment of terror that had become a part of my identity. But as I scrolled further, I found something unexpected: heartwarming comments from fans. Some melted my heart, reminding me that I wasn't alone in this fight.

I opened my messages to find an influx of new fans reaching out. I spent the night crafting replies, feeling a connection grow with those who understood my journey. After contemplating it all night, I called the media office this morning, requesting an interview. I need this. I need to turn the page, to reclaim my narrative, even though fear still lingers in the back of my mind.

As I arrive at the studio, the sleek, modern architecture makes me feel small yet hopeful. Steeling myself, I step inside, feeling the weight of what I'm about to share.

"Blair!" a voice calls out, breaking through my thoughts. I look up to see Tom, the renowned F1 journalist, approaching with a welcoming smile. "It's great to see you! Just a heads-up: this will be in live . Are you comfortable with that?"

"Yeah, I'm fine with it," I reply, though my heart races in anticipation.

"Fantastic," he says

He left, and a few minutes later, a guy approached me and said, "You can go now." So, I took a breath, walked on the set, and saw Tom waving me over.

"Welcome, Blair Becks," he said, his voice booming across the studio. The cameras were already rolling, lights bright and focused.

"Fantastic," he added, gesturing to the seat next to him. "It's been a while since we've seen you here, and I appreciate you coming in today. How are you feeling?"

"Honestly? I'm managing," I admit, shifting in my seat as I try to find a comfortable position. "It's been a tough recovery, both physically and mentally."

Tom nods, his expression sympathetic. "That's understandable. How is the pain from your injury? And the broken leg?"

I inhale deeply, recalling the ache that's become a constant reminder of my ordeal. "The pain is manageable, but it's still there. The doctors are unsure when I'll be able to walk, but I'm fighting for it."

"That's the spirit! Let's talk about the accident. Can you walk us through what happened that day?"

I feel the familiar tension rise in my chest as memories flash through my mind. "I was trying to push myself to be the best, but I thought I had enough space to pass Max. The next thing I knew, my car flipped, and flames were all around me."

Tom processes my words before continuing. "That sounds terrifying. Did McLaren do anything that contributed to the crash?"

I pause, choosing my words carefully. "McLaren is perfect; I have no issues with the team. But I was under immense pressure from my dad. He kept yelling at me, telling me I wasn't a good driver. I was sick from all the training and overwhelmed by too many meetings. I had too many things to juggle, between my dad, Joe, trainings, meetings, racing..i had no rest."

"Talking about that, you were involved with Joe. What was the nature of that relationship?"

I feel a mix of emotions swell inside me. "Joe wasn't really my boyfriend. He was just someone my dad wanted me to be close to. I felt like I had to make it work, but it was never genuine."

"Why was that?" Tom asks, leaning in, curiosity written all over his face.

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of my truth. "Because I'm a lesbian. My dad discovered it, and it changed everything. He threatened my career, my future, and the girl I was seeing. It felt like my entire world was crumbling."