Valtteri sat in the dark of his apartment kitchen.
He'd just found the note his wife had left him three months ago, saying she was leaving him for another lower.
The press hadn't made things better, still insisting on calling a "wingman" to Lewis, and he was now in fear Mercedes would sign his seat to a younger driver if they thought he wasn't performing well enough.
He'd missed two of the previous races due to an illness that rendered him bedridden, and while he did drive at the last race, he finished a measly 5th place behind Verstappen.
Once he'd parked the car in the garage, he promptly vomited in his helmet and had almost passed out.
His phone buzzed, altering him of a notification. The Finn let out a small sigh and picked up the mobile.
It was from his PR, confirming his worst fears.
Hey Val, sorry to tell you but the team decided you weren't performing this year, and have decided to let Esteban Ocon have your seat. You're no longer under contract as a Mercedes driver, and all the other teams are full.
It was a pleasure working with you.
Valtteri put his phone down, and buried his face in his arms, sobbing violently into them, his breath coming in harsh gasps and being let out as hiccups.
His phone buzzed again, this time it was Toto with the official yield, and Valtteri threw his phone across the countertop.
The clock glinted in the bright moonlight, the time mocking him.
00:03, August 28.
His birthday.
Valtteri didn't feel like celebrating, normally he and Emilia would go out for lunch and have a quiet night in with some takeaway.
He had one present for himself- a way out of this.
The Finn opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out two bottles of pills, sitting back at the breakfast bar and pulling out some bottle of alcohol.
His phone buzzed once more, and Valtteri turned it off for the final time.
He uncapped one of the bottles and tipped his head back, swallowing the bottle's entire contents and taking a swig of liquor to wash them down.
He uncapped the second bottle, and swallowed the pills. Two more gulps of liquor later and he fell off the stool, the liquor bottle falling from his hand and smashing on the floor, Valtteri landing on the other side of it.
His body convulsed, muscles contracting and spasming, his breath getting harsher and harsher.
His throat constricted, cutting off his air flow. Valtteri smiled slightly as he felt his heart beating slower.....and slower.....and slower.
His body spasmed one last time, and then went limp.
Valtteri Bottas was dead.
Name: Valtteri Viktor Bottas
Time of death: 00:07
Type of death: Overdose of zopiclone (sleeping pills)
YOU ARE READING
My Suicide Note
Fanfiction(Set after "I am Damaged") After several events, the world comes crumbling down for some Formula 1 drivers. Please note, the story deals with suicide and self-harm. Do not read if you suffer from these as these are TRIGGER WARNINGS.
