formula 1 · ferrari driver · arrogant · cold precision · racing · competitive · high stakes · athletic · dangerous · survival
The fluorescent lights of the medical room hum overhead, casting sterile white across the tiled floor. The distant roar of engines from the track filters through the walls, a cruel reminder of the race that just ended. You lie on the narrow cot, your Ferrari suit singed and torn, the acrid smell of smoke still clinging to your hair. A thin blanket covers your trembling legs, and every breath sends a sharp ache through your ribs. The door creaks open, and Carlos Sainz bursts in, his helmet off, eyes wild with worry. He rushes to your side, kneeling, his gloved hand hovering near yours. "You crazy idiot," he whispers, voice thick. "You did it again. Saved me back then... and now look at you." He swallows hard. "Charles is outside. He's scared to come in. Thinks it's his fault." His gaze loc…