𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐍 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒, oscar piastri

04 ; his rookie season

I had never prepared myself for the day my sickness would come back. Maybe that was my mistake, maybe I should have. But when I thought further, I didn't think anything could have been better. No preparation could have made the diagnosis easier to bare.

Not if it meant leaving my brother behind, not if it meant leaving my parents behind.

I wasn't ready to go yet. There was so much for me to do, so much for me to experience. And though the possibility of living wasn't high, I was going to cherish every moment of my being, every moment the universe decided to gift me until my death.

I sighed as I peeled open my eyes, the sun already beaming through the curtains. Today was the Qualifying, after the training yesterday that didn't go too well. The car was too slow to be considered a good one. Logan couldn't keep up with any of the others, not even with HAAS, which should have the same performance.

Maybe he needed time to adjust. This was his first time driving in a Formula One car and the pressure of achievement was unthinkable high. I had noticed Logan being on the edge for the past few days, even when he desperately tried to hide it.

My limps were heavy and aching as I fought myself to my feet. Looking outside the window, I saw the bustling and rustling of the busy traffic. Honking was clearly audible here and then and I sighed to myself, before grabbing a towel from the seat I had uncaringly tossed it on yesterday night and heading to the bathroom.

The reflection in the mirror didn't look like me. The person staring back at me had lost the spark in their eyes, had lost color on their face. She was staring at me with almost lifeless eyes.

This was what cancer did to people.

It rotted their insides slowly and was un-preventably seen on the outside sooner rather than later.

I tore my gaze away from the woman and laid the towel on the sink, before getting rid of the clothes that felt heavy on my body. The cold breeze of the air conditioner hit my bare skin like a bite and my body shivered as I let the water run warm.

When the hot water collided with my sore skin, it felt like balm to soothe the invisible pain. It was dry and itchy, but as soon as the water ran down my body, it felt relieving.

The air was steamy as the hot water warmed the bathroom and it was hard to inhale the thick air into my lungs.

When I stepped out of the shower mere moments later, I felt like I was about to collapse. There was dizziness dancing behind my forehead and I sat on the toilet seat to suppress the fainting that was slowly crawling up to me.

Why did I suddenly have such difficulties with daily life actions?

Was I really that close to death?

But I had promised Logan to stay with him through the whole process of his rookie season.

I couldn't break that promise, not when it meant the world to him.

I refused to let my body give in.

With the support of the wall, I stumbled into the bedroom and grabbed a top, as well as some shorts and sat down on the bed to change. My breathing was heavy and there was cold sweat layering on my body.

Perhaps it was only today. Perhaps I had woken up on a bad day, and the next few months would be easier.

I hoped I was right.

I hoped I would be able to be delusional, that I could keep on continuing in acting like the sickness didn't get to me yet again. I hoped I could make the little kid in me proud by watching Logan complete his rookie season.

It would break my heart if I wasn't able to experience it.

I would hate myself in the afterlife, or whatever was to come when death finally kissed me, released me from my suffer.

I stopped my thoughts.

Sighing, I pulled the shirt over my head and threw the top over. I wanted to see my brother and make sure he was doing well, that the pressure wasn't getting to him.

The heat outside the hotel would only worsen my condition, but the air was conditioned inside the garage, preventing heat strokes in the most expensive way possible.

Standing was harder than I cared to admit. Putting on my shorts was even harder. There was nausea starting to collect in the pit of my stomach that I gulped down faster than it had appeared.

With another sigh, I stood up from where I had flopped down while pulling up the zipper and grabbed my purse and phone, before heading out of the hotel room.

The hotel was unnecessarily expensive and it really did look expensive. The chandeliers hanging from the huge ceilings were adorned with the most different colours of gold, red and green. A mixture of colours I had never thought I would like.

The walls were thick but plain white. There were pictures of people I assumed were the prior owners here and then. This hotel was known for the family's habit to be handed down to their heirs, something I had assumed was known as common in Katar.

The fabric of the carpet felt expensive underneath my shoes, a thick layer above the actual ground. It looked expensive too, perfectly cleaned with the weirdest shapes on them.

The people scattered inside the lobby looked wealthy, wearing suits and the most beautiful dresses I had ever seen. Some of them were easily considered nobel.

I felt heavily misplaced when I walked through the crowd and started towards the exit —

But then again I didn't care.

I'd be dead in a few months.