Forgetting The Love of Your Life

Chapter One: Losing Track of Time

Charles' PoV:

The cloud of smoke is practically visible from the other side of the track already - Red flags are aggressively woven, and your radio jumps on and off. The crash must have happened near the finish line; You continue down the track towards the pits.

Charles via radio: What happened?

Race engineer: Just come back to the pits Charles.

You're confused; You usually always get a direct answer. Your mind immediately jumps to y/n - Is she in the wreck - Is that why they won't tell you?

Charles via Radio: Who crashed-

Race engineer: Come to the pits Charles. Just follow orders.

The mandated speed under the red flag isn't helping; You need to see what happened - At least who crashed. You finally make your way around the last corner, only to see everything. Holy Fuck.

One of the Mercedes' is ripped in half; Debris is scattered everywhere, half the car is deeply rammed into the metal barriers, and flames are rushing up towards the sky, explaining the cloud of smoke you saw earlier. You head into the pits as you were told - You don't wish harm on Lewis either, but if that was your girl's car, you'll lose it.

You pass by Mercedes' garage; You press the breaks as you pass by Lewis and Toto, helplessly looking up at the screen. No, no, no, no, fuck no.

You half-ass your parking job, immediately freeing yourself from your cables, your seat belt and your helmet - You jump out - Only hearing hectic calls behind you.

Everyone constantly calls your name, pointing towards the pit wall - You rush through the pit lane, nearly getting run over by one of the McLarens.

You feel your echoing heartbeat rush through your entire body - You push your way through the masses that are watching the marshalls clean up. They make way once they realise who you are.

You pull yourself up onto the metal barrier that separates the pits from the track - The marshalls are pulling her out of the wreck - Your heart stops, and everything starts moving in slow motion. You don't take your eyes off of y/n.

Your hands feel weak, but you somehow pull yourself over the barrier; You've got tunnel vision. You drop down onto the track - The loud sirens, the calls, and the screams become muffled - You rush past the marshalls, the security and the people relentlessly trying to stop the fire that's pretty close to the grandstands. All you hear is your own shallow, hectic breath.

They pull her onto a stretcher, and start running towards you; They run past you, and you follow them. You're completely disoriented, as you stare at her still body; Numbness encompasses you.

Someone grabs you by your arm, guiding you towards the helipad that she's being directed to.

You're pushed into the helicopter seconds before takeoff, and you watch the paramedics check her pressure and other things.

Someone places you down by her head; She's still wearing her helmet, since it has to stay on to prevent any further possible neck injuries - If she has any, you don't know.