Precious Star

Guilt

We had three weeks off before we started racing again. Charles missed the Singapore GP since he was still healing, but he is looking much better now and more than ready to race. We were entering the week of the Japanese Grand Prix, and I was currently in a press conference with Charles, Carlos, Max, and Fernando. I was currently sitting in between Charles and Fernando, playing with the microphone I had in my hand. This conference seemed to be longer than usual, and I had not been asked a single question. It was always like this, which is why I don't understand why I even come to these.

"Question is for you, Alaina," a reporter spoke up.

"Finally," I whispered, and I heard Fernando and Charles chuckle beside me.

"We know this track is quite triggering to you, given the accident with Jules some years back," the reporter began. Hearing his name, my whole body tensed. My blood suddenly felt light, and my heart began to speed up. From my peripheral vision, I felt all the guys look at me and then back at the reporter, waiting to hear what he would say. "Do you blame yourself?" he asked. Charles adjusted himself in his seat as Fernando instinctively placed his hand on mine, caressing it in a caring way.

"What?" was all I could muster out of my body. The microphone in my hand began to shake. I did not get any training for this. He shouldn't be asking me this. Charles, help me.

"Well, it's quite common in this sort of situation for someone to feel a kind of guilt. Is that the situation for you?"

"What situation?" I understood what he was saying, but I couldn't process it.

"The accident. Your fathers and then Jules. It can be quite traumatizing, given how close their deaths were. Do you feel any guilt because of their deaths? Could you have changed both their fates?" Charles told me it wasn't my fault. Was he wrong? I could have stopped them from dying if I hadn't forced them to race.

"Are you a psychologist?" Max asked, clearly enraged by the questions.

"No, no, no."

"No? Okay, I was just checking," Max laughed, but his laugh held everything but humor as he began to stand up.

"But I'm just saying-" the reporter tried to defend.

"This is unacceptable," Carlos said as he began to stand up.

"What the hell? What is wrong with you?" Charles interrupted.

"Alaina, kiddo. Come on, let's go," Fernando said as he grabbed the microphone from my other hand before he helped me up from my seat. He led me off the stage, but as we were off, I could hear Charles arguing with the reporter.

"What a dickhead. Honestly. No respect for her. You have no idea what she has been through!" Charles shouted.

"And you do?! Just because she is your girlfriend, you are defending her!" the reporter fired back.

"Because she is someone I care and love, that's why I am defending her. Not just because she is my girlfriend!" Charles shouted back.

"Get him off the stage," I asked Carlos, Fernando, and Max. Hoping any of them would.

"What?" they asked, simultaneously turning to look at me.

"Get Charles off the stage. The media will eat him up if he continues to argue," I explained.

"She's right," Fernando said, bringing me into a warm hug. "Get him off the stage. I'll stay with her."

I watched as Carlos and Max made their way to Charles, doing their best to pull him off the stage and away from the reporters. Tears started to form in my eyes as everything unfolded in front of me. I started to grip Fernando's shirt as I began to sob silently. "Oh, kiddo, I'm so sorry," he said as he placed a hand on my head.

"Charles, she needs you, mate," Carlos was heard faintly through the microphones around them on the stage.

"Look at her, Charles," Max said, forcing Charles to look towards Fernando and me.

Not a second, I saw Charles sprint off stage and make his way to me. Letting go of Fernando, I quickly made my way into Charles's arms. My sobs were much louder now that I was with him. "I'm so so sorry, preziosa. I'm sorry,"  [Precious] he repeated as his grip around me strengthened, almost as if he was trying to get all the pain I was currently feeling out of me.

"What if you were wrong?" I questioned.

"What? Wrong about what, preziosa?" Charles asked as he placed his hands on my cheeks to make me look at him.

"I pushed them to race. You know I did. Maybe he is right. What if it was my fault?"

"It's never been your fault. And it will never be," he whispered as he also began to cry.