Melody of death | English Version | Charles Leclerc FF

forty-three ఌ

Immersed in thoughts, I sat down at the shiny, white piano in my room. While my fingers flew over the keys on the left and played chords and triads, I let everything that raged in me turn into the melodies. I let a few notes last for a long time, only to make the following notes sound deep and long as well. In between, I added fast, short sounds that symbolized the storm in me. The long ones reflected the dying and lonely in me. The melody was a reflection of my interior, as always when I play.

When I felt Elmo's snout on my back, I stopped the movements of my fingers and turned to him. "Hey, sweetie," I stroked his head and gave him a kiss between his eyes. The dog accompanied me to the living room where my cell phone was. A few messages from Charles could be found on it and countless notifications from Instagram. My breathing accelerated again at the sight of them, which is why I preferred not to click on the app first, but on WhatsApp instead. I tapped on Charles' chat and read the short messages. He asked if I had arrived safely after our return flight and when we could meet again. Sighing, I looked out of the window. I have a full day at work all week, including Saturday and then I tend to go to the fitness center. Where should there still be time for him? On the other hand, I didn't want him to notice anything either.

"Yes, I'm at home and have already picked up Elmo. We could see each other on Wednesday after work. At 8 p.m.«

I closed the app and hesitated briefly to visit Instagram. But something in me moved my finger on the screen and the symbol of the social media app jumped into my eye. 203 chats. 870 new subscription requests and 56 links under posts. So the worst first, right? I tapped on the messages and got so scared that my cell phone almost fell to the ground.

>You little whore, go back to Canada and don't destroy Charles' career<
>The Grand Prix's are something for real fans<
>No one needs you here<

These were only three of the 203 messages that had reached me. And I didn't even look at half of it. I was too afraid of what was still waiting. That which would completely destroy me.
With trembling fingers, I called up the posts under which I was tagged. One, for example, I was pictured walking to the paddock with Sam this morning. It was written underneath that 'the new one has been seen in the paddock again'. Under another post, a news agency asked followers if anyone knew my account.

I was just happy that my account was private and not visible to everyone. Nevertheless, you could see me on my profile picture what I had to change before someone created a meme or something similar from it. So instead, I chose a picture of the Monegasque Sea that I had once shot at work.

A second time that day, the cell phone fell out of my hand by a hair when it started ringing and Instagram was covered by the caller. It was Mara, the employee from the fitness center.

„Hey Mara. How are you?" I tried to sound as happy as possible, which I succeeded quite well. "Darling, I'm fine. And yourself? Do you maybe have time to take care of my little monsters on Friday?"

„Hm, Friday. What time?" I asked and I almost realized that my plan for the gym would fall into the water like that.

„Around 7 p.m.. My husband and I want to go out again. We haven't had the time lately in all the relocation planning," she said with a sigh. "I can do that. Then until Friday."

Friday
The week passed like a long train journey through a dark tunnel. I worked like a machine. I made an appointment with Charles in the cinema and served the customers in my work. I smiled all day, only in the evening, when I got into my car, did this facade break. Sometimes I started to cry, but mostly tried to pull myself together. At least until I had my apartment door in my back. In today's lunch break I had put on my sports equipment and went jogging for three quarters of an hour. Without a break, even though my lungs burned and my limbs hurt.