Hate You - LN

7

Lando was true to his word, he used the bathroom from exactly six to seven this morning if the shower water running and some crashing and banging around was any hint. Other than that, I might've forgotten he existed. I wanted to thank Lando for sharing the room with me, but I didn't exactly know how to. Hey Lando, thanks for giving up half your space for the race weekend to someone you hate!

I'd have to thank him in some way. But that's another issue for later this weekend sometime. For now, I had to focus on today and getting him ready to get in the car for the practice sessions. Since my confusion last night and my stress for this weekend, I used my lack of sleep to get some work done. I now had a pretty good base memorization of Lando's file and had memorized the mechanics' names. If I was going to be a pain in the ass, making sure everyone in those garages was healthy I figured I should at least know the names of the people I'm lecturing.

I roughly heard movement outside my door and then another door closing. Everything fell silent afterwards and I assumed the noises were Lando leaving. A bit begrudgingly, I got out of bed and grabbed a change of clothes from my suitcase which had been delivered last night and unlocked the door to my room. I felt like a teenager again, sneaking around the house to avoid Dad. Only this time I was avoiding Lando.

The thought that I was comparing the two men felt extremely wrong.

Seeing that the coast was clear I looked over to where I'd spotted the McLaren keys last night hanging on a hook on the wall. They were gone. I let out a breath, letting my shoulders sag and my heavy legs dragged me towards the bathroom I shared with Lando. I entered the space and the sharp reminder of what Lando smelt like hit my nose, his cologne still hanging in the steam of the bathroom. His curly hair products were scattered over one side of the bathroom counter, and two bottles of soap stood in the shower. Even the damn bathroom reminded me of the time we spent together through lockdown.

I always hated how messy he was. And he had always made fun of me for how organized I was. I noticed with no small pain that he still used the same hair products I recommended to him four years ago. Only, now a curly hair version. I guess he finally realized he had curly hair, not wavy like he always liked to claim.

I shut the bathroom door behind me and locked it just in case he came back and set my things on the other side of the bathroom counter. I put my shampoo and conditioner beside his and turned on the water, stripping off my clothes and letting it heat up before stepping in. Like always, the warm water wrapped around me like a comforting blanket and I let my mind wander.

The pain of remembering the darkest parts of your life is addictive.

"Devin?" Charles said again from the other side of the phone.

I couldn't muster a reply, my mouth felt full of sand, my throat constricting. My eyes began to flutter shut. The room around me faded ever darker.

Before it could wrap me up and sweep me into blissful nothingness a sharp stinging pain, hot like fire ripped through my abdomen, right over my left hip. My ears were ringing and adrenalyn shot my eyes awake. Darkness evaporating.

The blurry outline of my father filled my vision and was once again standing over me. I looked down at his hand, my neck craining with the effort. His fingers were wrapped around the hilt of one of the knives from the kitchen. I couldn't see where the blade was. But I knew where it was. I moved my shaking fingers over his. Even in my fuzzy state, I knew taking the knife out would make things worse.

"Dad, Dad please," I begged. But the alcohol and grief from losing mom had changed him. Harry was no longer my dad, just a monster who saw me as a reminder of everything my mom would've loved. A reminder of his grief.