Mercedes were getting worried about Valtteri. He hadn't returned any calls or texts.
At first they thought he was busy, celebrating his birthday with his wife, so they brushed it off.
Lewis wasn't buying it and decided to go and see if Valtteri was okay, maybe he was sick and couldn't answer his phone, or maybe he'd been attacked and couldn't call for help.
The Brit arrived outside Valtteri's flat and knocked on the door, not wanting to disturb Valtteri if he was with his wife.
When there was no answer, he pressed the doorbell.
The shrill buzz rang through the silence of the apartment.
Lewis frowned, deciding to unlock the door using the key Emilia had given him when Valtteri had been ill with a fever and she was away for training. Back when she cared about him enough to let his teammate have a key and free entry to their flat.
For once Lewis was glad of the small piece of cool metal on his keychain as he pushed open the door.
The living room was empty, as was the bedroom surprisingly. The door to the bathroom was slightly ajar, and the medicine cabinet was open.
That didn't ease Lewis' worry.
Maybe Val just needed some painkillers and forgot to close the cabinet? He'd done it, it was pretty common.
The Brit headed into the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks.
He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but not this.
He wasn't expecting to see Valtteri's lifeless body on the floor and a smashed bottle next to him, the dark liquid soaking into the grouting of the tiles.
Two empty pill bottles stood innocently on the countertop, unaware they had just caused murder of the highest degree.
Lewis dropped to his knees next to Valtteri's body, fingers pressed against his former teammate's pulse point, searching for the heartbeat he knew wasn't there.
His hands fumbled for his phone, fingers shaking as he dialled for the emergency services, voice cracking as he told them what happened.
He choked back a sob as he called Toto, the team principle picking up on the second ring.
"Lewis?" Toto asked. "Are you okay?"
"It's Val." Lewis tried to hold back his tears. "He killed himself."
"Valtteri.... committed suicide?" Toto asked eventually.
Lewis finally let the tears flow down his face, unable to say anything in response.
"Shit... I'm coming over." Toto hung up, leaving Lewis in silence.
The Brit's phone finally slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor.
He pulled Valtteri onto his lap, openly sobbing, his tears splashing onto the Finn's cold, ashen grey face.
He pressed a kiss to Val's forehead and buried his face in the crook of Val's neck, inhaling the faint scent of Valtteri Bottas that was left.
Toto arrived the same time the paramedics did, sitting with Lewis as Valtteri was lifted from his arms and placed onto the stretcher, a white sheet laid over him.
Toto called an emergency Mercedes team meeting, where he announced Valtteri's suicide. The team sat in silence, Esteban sinking further into his seat.
It couldn't be happening, not again.
He remembered Lance, and the Canadian's suicide after what Esteban had done. It was all his fault last time, and he was certain it as his fault this time.
He always seemed to fuck things up.
To say the paddock was shocked would be an understatement. When Valtteri's death was announced, the place fell silent, even the wind dropped.
They decided to hold a press conference. Lewis declined the offer of announcing his teammate's death. Kimi was considered, but he too declined, so the honour fell to Sebastian.
The drivers filed into the press room, all dressed in black instead of their usual team attire.
Once the press had settled down, Sebastian stood up, a piece of paper in his hand.
"Two days ago, Valtteri Bottas committed suicide by swallowing an overdose of sleeping pills from his medicine cabinet. We do not know why he was compelled to do this, but we would like to ask you not to point fingers at anybody. The race on Sunday has been cancelled as we would like time to sort this out. We will not be taking questions on this matter."
When he finished, all the drivers stood up and left.
The day of Valtteri's funeral was cold. Thick snow lay on the ground from the night before and the drivers all huddled together around Val's grave.
They watched as the coffin was lowered into Valtteri's grave.
Emilia stood near the back of the crowd around her ex-husband's tombstone.
She knew she shouldn't be there, she didn't know why she decided to attend, why she'd even been invited.
She watched as the coffin was lowered into the ground and was surprised when she was asked to lay a small shovel of dirt into the grave.
The Finn quickly discharged her shovel of dirt, watching as it hit the dark wood of Valtteri's coffin.
Suddenly she knew why she was there. Why they were all there.
They wanted to see Valtteri, to say goodbye before he was gone forever.
One final race.
One concluding battle.
One bittersweet end.
One last time.
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.
