prompt requested: 11: "it's things like these that keep me up at night."
warning:
(kinda?) vivid descriptions of the f2 spa feature race.
—
spa-francorchaps.
in a grandstand, by eau rogue/radillion.
the cars pass me one after another.
and another.
and another.
pink car swerves. goes into barriers.
bounces off the barriers.
white car comes.
bam.
blue car is collected along.
the driver of the blue car steps out.
the drivers of the white car and the pink car are hoisted out of their cars and sent to who knows where.
there's a heartbeat in my ears.
it's beating, beating, beating...
silence.
—
i wake up in a cold sweat. it's been at least three times this week. why can't i just sleep?
"it's things like these that keep me up at night, geez."
"mick, you're going crazy, stop talking to yourself!"
i sigh, looking at the clock.
4.30am.
there's no point trying to go back to sleep now, so i get up and try to make use of the day.
how am i supposed to enjoy the summer break like this?
—
31 August, 2019 | F2 feature race
sitting P6 on the grid, i had a bad feeling resting in my gut, the stupid dreams flashing in my mind.
something tells me i shouldn't be driving today.
"tell me over the radio as soon as any accidents happen."
"copy mick."
lights out.
lap 1 was the usual, nothing out of the ordinary. i just kept my head down and kept racing, trying to ignore the nauseous feeling creeping in my gut.
lap 2, got through that corner sequence with no issues, but the nauseous feeling intensifying in my gut told me something wasn't right.
less than ten seconds later, my radio crackles to life.
"hubert off at eau rogue, shit, correa's hit him."
pink car, white car.
"is there another car involved?"
"yes, three cars involved, third one is alesi's trident. alesi is getting out of his car now."
blue car.
the dream. it might just be real.
"mick, red flag, red flag. come back into the pits and get out of the car, please."
"copy."
parking the car in pitlane, i got out as fast as i could. the first thing i do is head to my engineer.
"can i see the crash footage?"
"mick, are you sure? it's bad."
"just let me see it."
he shows me the footage on the monitor.
eau rogue/radillion.
the cars pass one after another.
and another.
and another.
pink car swerves. goes into barriers.
bounces off the barriers.
white car comes.
bam.
blue car is collected along.
the driver of the blue car steps out.
so far, it's identical to the dream.
i'm tapped on the shoulder by someone, and i turn around to see my engineer.
"correa's been extracted from the car, he's being taken to the hospital along with hubert."
the drivers of the white car and the pink car are hoisted out of their cars and sent to who knows where.
the dream is still accurate.
—
the paddock is mourning. anthoine is gone.
there's a heartbeat in my ear.
it's beating, beating, beating...
silence.
the dream was real. all of it.
—
a/n: gosh this was heartbreaking to write. funnily enough trying to recall the accident isn't hard when it's been engraved into your mind (because i stupidly watched the video on repeat after the accident happened). clearly this isn't real because if it was, that would be terrifying. like imagine the torment. hope you enjoyed this one (and cried with me) :) soph :)
