Until my Last Breath

30

Qualifying

The paddock is alive with tension, the electric energy of qualifying day vibrating in every corner. I keep my glasses on, head low, avoiding the media circus and swarms of fans. Their voices blur into the background as I weave through the chaos, clutching my helmet tightly. It's almost suffocating, but I've done this before. I can handle the noise.

Or so I think.

I turn the corner toward my garage when I see him-
Darwin.
He's leaning casually against the wall near the entrance, a predator waiting for his prey. His smirk spreads the moment our eyes meet, and I feel the air in my lungs freeze.

"Well, well, if it isn't the darling of the paddock," he sneers, pushing off the wall and stepping into my path.

I stop dead in my tracks, gripping my helmet tighter. "What do you want, Darwin?" My voice comes out quieter than I intend, lacking the sharpness I usually wield.

He steps closer, invading my space, his eyes glinting with malice. "Just thought I'd say hi. Check on you, you know, my colleague after all ." His voice is dripping with mock concern, his words cutting like glass.

I take a step back, but he follows, his towering frame casting a shadow over me. "You've been awfully quiet the last couple weeks," he continues, his tone low and threatening. "I was starting to think you might've forgotten about our little... misunderstanding."
My stomach twists. "I haven't forgotten," I manage, my voice trembling.

"Good," he says, his smirk widening. "Because if you so much as think about opening that pretty mouth of yours, I'll make sure you regret it. You understand me, Bianchi?"

I swallow hard, my throat dry. "You don't scare me," I lie, but the tremor in my voice betrays me.

He chuckles darkly, leaning in until his face is inches from mine. "Oh, I think I do. You're shaking already."

I can't move, can't breathe. His presence is suffocating, his words wrapping around me like a vice. He steps back slightly, but his smirk remains, his eyes raking over me like I'm a piece of meat. "Enjoy qualifying, Bianchi," he says, his tone light but his eyes deadly. "Let's see if you can keep up, and i suggest you don't drop points today. Maybe then big teams will consider signing you."

He walks away, leaving me frozen in place. My heart is racing, my hands trembling as I clutch my helmet like it's the only thing grounding me.

I barely remember making it to the garage. The team greets me with their usual professionalism, but I can feel their eyes on me, the tension thick in the air. They're worried. I try to shake it off, try to focus on the strategy meeting, but Darwin's words echo in my head, his voice a sinister whisper in the back of my mind.

When the meeting ends, I escape to my driver's room, my sanctuary in this storm. I drop onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. My chest feels tight, my breaths shallow. For the first time in my career, I feel powerless. Truly, utterly powerless.

A knock on the door startles me, and I sit up quickly, wiping at my eyes. "Come in," I manage, my voice hoarse.

The door opens, and Kika steps inside, followed by Marina. "Rita, are you okay?" Marina asks, her voice filled with concern.

I nod quickly, forcing a smile. "I'm fine."

But I'm not fine. I can't shake the image of Darwin's face, his smirk, his voice. I feel like I'm unraveling, my confidence crumbling under the weight of his threats.

"Do you want me to reschedule your interviews?" Marina asks carefully, sensing my unease.

I hesitate, then nod.

She doesn't press further, just gives me a small nod and leaves the room. Kika sits beside me, placing a comforting hand on my knee. "You don't have to talk about it," she says softly. "But if you need anything, I'm here."

I nod again, grateful for her support but unable to find the words to thank her.

When it's time to get in the car, my nerves are shot. My hands shake as I put on my gloves, my heart pounding in my chest. I try to focus, try to block out the noise and the fear, but Darwin's words play on a loop in my mind.

As I pull out of the garage, the weight of the day presses down on me. Every turn feels heavier, every corner a struggle. I can't find my rhythm, can't push past the mental block that Darwin's planted in my head.

By the end of qualifying, it's clear: I've had the worst performance of my career. Darwin, on the other hand, has secured his first pole position this season.

When the session ends, I don't leave my car. I sit there, staring at the steering wheel, unable to move. The reality of what just happened sinks in, the shame and disappointment crashing over me like a tidal wave.

But I know I can't stay here forever. The second I step out of the car, every camera will be on me, every eye in the paddock watching my every move. I force myself to climb out, keeping my visor low to hide my face as I make my way back to the garage.

The flash of cameras is blinding, the noise deafening. Questions are shouted at me, but I don't answer. I keep my head down, pushing through the crowd until I reach the safety of my driver's room.

Once inside, I slam the door shut, leaning against it as I try to catch my breath. The silence is a welcome relief, but it does nothing to quiet the storm in my mind.

Attempts are made to talk to me-Charles, Lando, Alex-they all try to pull me out of this spiral, but I can't. I can't stop the negative thoughts, the self-doubt, the fear.

In the end, it's Marina who makes the final call, pulling every string she can to shield me from the media. But even her efforts can't save me from myself.

I'm trapped in my own head, Darwin's words echoing louder than ever. For the first time, I feel like I've failed-not just as a driver, but as a person.