⌞ the chain ⌝

⌞ forty-four : strides ⌝

Alors quand je gagne, je le fais parce que je le mérite.

_

I tilted my head as I looked down at the data. After my conversation with Charlie, my mindset had changed. He was right, not that I would ever admit it to him. But I wasn't exactly a ghost running around on the track. I was me, and I knew how to get the job done. But what would happen if I beat him? What was the next step? The one thing I had been working toward.

I sighed, pushing that thought from my mind and while I hadn't exactly won the race, it had given me time to examine what I needed to work on. It wasn't the skill or the racing, I knew how to do that. It was the mental part of it. My mindset had moved, and it was time to make things real. Damon had seen it, and now, while we flew to the next place, it was time.

"I don't know about this, D."

"When will you ever start trusting that I know how to do my job, huh?"

I couldn't help but snort as he gestured for me to make space on the couch. I moved over, letting him take the spot next to me. Jem was on the other side of the plane, talking with his engineer and I couldn't help but look over at him. He was calm, cool, collected. It felt like he had everything that was needed for this and I was still stuck playing dress up in Jules's garage.

"Lu, focus. Jem is competition. You need to focus."

"Right." My eyes flicked back over to the iPad Damon had put in my lap. "Work time."

_

"Alright, kiddo. How's it feeling?"

"Like a car."

I could hear him snort on the other side of the line and it made some of the tension leave my body. His idea was borderline reckless at best but it had gotten me through practice and qualifying. I trusted him but I was starting to wonder if I trusted myself. Was I going to freeze again? Was this going to be a constant thing? It felt like everything was suddenly too small, too tight, too much. Breathing felt like a manual job rather than an afterthought.

"Lu, breathe. Some man doesn't define the work you put in, you hear me? He hasn't been there, watching you grow into a confident and beautiful young person- I can't call you a lady because you curse like a sailor."

I let out a nervous laugh. "I blame Sebastian."

"We can blame whoever you want. But you are amazing, you made it up to F2 after half a season and an injury in F3... you're not a failure. You're not just some kid with money playing until you get bored. It's in your blood. So race."

I felt his words wash over me like a cold wave. He was right. My dad had been the person against me my entire life. But I had a villiage of people who wanted to see me succeed. Damon, Lewis, Nico, Arty, Dani, Seb, Kimi, Lando, Jenson. My family. The people who had watched me put in nine hours of training a day, at minimum. The ones who watched me push past what I should have been able to do with fractured ribs, the people who were there from the moment my life turned upside down and helped pull me back into the light. That's who I was racing for.

I was racing for me.

"Let's touch the sky."

_

"Damon, if he doesn't fucking move, I swear to god. I'm pushing him off the track."

"Let's not blantanly threaten your friend on the radio, please. I don't need you getting a penalty."

I groaned. George was going to piss me off. At the halfway mark and I was still stuck behind him. I was not going to settle for P4. Not when I had done all this work, not when I had dealt with Damon's insane plans. I was touching the top step and George fucking Russell wasn't going to stop me.