On the F1 racetrack, Grayson, the man who is my girlfriend could never have in her youth, cut my brake line. I was about to floor the accelerator when the brakes suddenly gave out completely. His arrogant laughter crackled through the intercom. "This idiot — just like I figured, he hasn't noticed we've sabotaged the brakes!" My girlfriend, Natalie, laughed along from somewhere beside him. Rage tore through me. "Natalie! Weren't you the one who inspected my car?! Someone could die out here!" Her voice drifted through the intercom, dripping with disdain. "Grayson has depression. He doesn't get to feel what you feel behind the wheel — the speed, the rush. Cutting the brake line was the only way I could think of to cheer him up." "Aren't you supposed to be the God of the Track? Consider this a test of your skills. Don't be so selfish — I know what I'm doing." I knew then that no one was coming to save me. I had to save myself. With everything I had left, I slammed the emergency distress button on my waist. "Now — activate the emergency protocol!" When she heard me calling for help, Natalie's voice curled with contempt. "Seriously? I've never seen you care this much about your own skin before. You're the God of the Track — scared of a little brake failure? You've been through this before. Why are you being so dramatic now?" That last time the brakes failed, I'd nearly died saving her. Three months flat on my back in a hospital. I almost lost my career entirely. If I hadn't had nerves of steel, I might never have gotten behind the wheel again. And she'd glossed over it like it was nothing — then weaponized it against me. Now she wanted to put me through the same nightmare. Worse, even. I ground my teeth together. "Natalie, do you have any idea what you've done? My life matters too. Last time, I nearly died for you! And we're on a race circuit right now — if the brakes are gone, I'm dead!" She sounded angrier than I was. "You're not dead yet, are you? Ethan, stop being so dramatic. Do you have to throw that rescue in my face every single time? For your information, if you hadn't jumped in, Grayson would have saved me anyway." "You think you're so impressive? Then prove it. How could someone like you possibly let himself die?" She had no idea — back then, Grayson had been too busy running to save himself. If I hadn't been there, she'd already be a corpse. Her words hit like a slap. The car lurched; I nearly lost control. There was no time to dwell on it. I stopped wasting breath on her and tried to reach my teammates — but no matter how many times I hit the intercom, Natalie's voice was the only thing that came through. She noticed and spoke flatly. "I modified the system so they can't reach you. You've got me. That's enough." Another blow. Ice flooded my chest. "You know this is a team race, right? No one survives this alone. Have you lost your mind? You're using me as a lab rat? Natalie, as team captain, I'm ordering you — fix this now. No brakes, no backup — that's a death sentence. Do you actually want me dead?" "Stop whining. I told you, I know what I'm doing. You're only thinking about yourself. If you've got nothing useful to say, don't say anything." And then Natalie cut the line. I clenched my fist and forced my voice steady. I had no choice but to beg. "Natalie, you can see what's happening to me right now. Please — alert the teammates behind me. Tell them to force my car to stop. I'm begging you." Then Grayson's voice came through from the other side. "Babe, don't stop. Keep going. I'm actually starting to feel it — the thrill of racing. I wish it were even more intense." Natalie's voice instantly transformed — bright, breathless, sweeter than I'd ever heard it with me. "Really? You don't want to die anymore? Oh, thank God. I'll speed things up right now." The moment she finished speaking, my car surged completely out of control, accelerating wildly, swerving and lurching — and then it rocketed straight toward the cliff edge.
With a split second to spare, years of experience took over and I wrenched the wheel straight. But I was drenched in cold sweat, my heart monitor screaming. One lapse in focus and I'd have gone over the edge. Then I found a problem far more critical — my right hand was broken. The fractured bone had torn through skin and muscle. Blood poured freely, and still the car thundered on. With my left hand trembling, I reached for the full-body safety system — and stopped cold. Every protective mechanism had been gutted and replaced with cosmetic features. My car had become the flashiest, most eye-catching vehicle on the track. In racing, that was a death wish. Grayson kept cycling through the car's color displays, pausing now and then to debate with Natalie about which shade looked better. They were laughing and joking around. Meanwhile, I was the lamb waiting to be slaughtered. Helpless and pathetic. The equipment that should have kept me alive had been stripped out and repurposed as a toy for Natalie to impress Grayson. My life meant nothing to her. Their excited chatter felt like a death knell — mocking my helplessness with every word. My knuckles went white. I bit down so hard I tasted blood. "Natalie, stop this. I genuinely don't have this under control — people die when brakes fail. My right hand is broken. I can't move it. Get me backup. Now." A dull thud — Grayson threw down the controller, his voice sullen. "Babe, I'm done. This worthless life of mine isn't going to last much longer anyway. I shouldn't have upset him." Natalie immediately turned on me, screaming. "Ethan, that's enough! Could you show some compassion? Grayson is sick. He's a patient. Why do you have to be so petty? You want out? Not until Grayson has had enough fun." People around them chimed in. "Grayson, you've really hit the jackpot with Natalie — not every girl would bet her boyfriend's career and his life just to keep her first love happy. Respect." "Still — Ethan's situation looks like it's getting pretty serious. Aren't you worried about him at all?" Natalie answered without missing a beat, her voice rock-solid. "He's faking it. He's pulling a stunt to get my attention. He tried the same trick last time — does he really think I'll fall for it twice?" "You all know Ethan. Arrogant, self-centered. This is just my way of keeping him in line." She was putting my life on the line as a "method of keeping him in line"? Did she actually think I was a god? What was I to her? The "last time" she referenced — her little crew had staged a fake kidnapping, claiming Natalie had been taken. They gave me one hour to abandon the race and drive over a thousand kilometers to "save" her. I'd sacrificed the ranking I'd bled for, wrecked my car, and gotten injured in the process. When she found out, she'd seemed genuinely torn up about it. Now I was learning she'd thought I was running a con on her the whole time. "Ha, that's right — Natalie always knows how to handle men." That finally pulled Grayson out of his sulk. He went right back to his little performance with the controls. The constant visual changes made my competitor, Drake, think I was deliberately provoking him. He came at me without hesitation. Three thunderous impacts — Drake's reinforced bumper slammed into my rear. A shrill warning alarm pierced the air. Drake's furious curses followed. The collision knocked the air out of me. I coughed up a mouthful of blood. Every organ in my body felt like it was being wrung out. Each breath scraped through what was left of my lungs like sandpaper. My head pounded. My car was beyond my control. My life was in someone else's hands. That realization nearly sent me over the edge. If this kept up, I had one way out: a coffin. I made a decision — a desperate one.
"Ethan, have you lost your mind?! You wouldn't dare—" Natalie seemed to figure out what I was about to do. But it was too late to stop me. She'd been too caught up playing house with Grayson — and that had given me my only window. I surrendered. Officially conceded. Threw away over a decade of dreams in one move. My body had hit its limit. If I kept going, there'd be nothing left of me — and Natalie didn't care if I lived or died. No one gets to threaten my life. I will not be anyone's punching bag. The moment Drake saw the white flag go up, he finally backed off his assault. "Well, I'll be damned. Never thought I'd live to see the great Ethan throw in the towel." "This isn't some trick, right? You're not playing me to drop my guard? I'm warning you — try to double-cross me, and I will end you." "No trick. I surrender. Drake, please — help me." I screamed as loud as I could, praying he'd hear me. He was the only one close enough. Two hundred meters ahead sat the track's most notorious killing curve — a bend that had claimed more lives than anyone cared to count. At this speed, with no brakes, hitting that turn meant certain death. Before I could finish, Grayson cut off my lifeline again — sealing every window in the car so no sound could escape. Then, as punishment, he "accidentally" activated the electric shock system. A violent surge of electricity tore straight through my chest. I couldn't breathe. The burning was unbearable. My entire body convulsed uncontrollably. Worse than the pain was the humiliation — the shock made me lose control of my bladder. In that moment, my hatred peaked. "Oops — I think I bumped something. Hope that's okay. It sounded like Ethan was trying to talk to someone out there. I hope I didn't upset him by accident." I stared at the intercom with bloodshot eyes. I knew Natalie could see me. "Natalie — do you know what he just did to me? He wants me dead!" "Are you about to tell me he shocked you? I watched every modification on that car myself. The shock function is a gentle warning — it won't kill you. Stop performing." "And while we're at it — I'll give you a warning too. Stop playing games with me. Acting pathetic won't help you." She slammed the switch. Then she turned to Grayson and laughed, heaping praise on him. "Grayson, you did so well. Once we make it past this curve, I know you'll find your confidence again." The pain and helplessness boiled into something behind my eyes. My breathing went ragged; I nearly blacked out. Then a searing pain exploded in my abdomen. I pressed my hand against it and pulled it away soaked in red. The wound was a mess of blood and torn flesh. I pressed my fingers in. They came back out with fragments of gravel embedded in them. Grayson had deliberately sabotaged me at the worst possible moment. Debris from the car ahead had shredded straight into me. I was past the point of holding back. "Natalie, can you not see that Grayson is doing this on purpose?! He has been screwing with my controls this whole time. I'm injured and bleeding out right now! Are you both happy? Give me back control of my car — I just want to survive!" "Uh — Ethan seems really upset. Is he mad at me? Babe, I'm scared. I'm such a burden to everyone. Maybe it'd be better if I was gone." Grayson's voice was perfectly pitched — a grown man whimpering like a wounded child on cue, and Natalie swallowed it whole every single time. Natalie's disgust for me hardened into something uglier. "Ethan, stop performing. All you do is threaten to die. It's pathetic. Grayson has a real illness. He has depression." "Is the only way you feel good about yourself making sure he suffers? Do you need everyone else to lose so you can win?" Natalie turned her back on me completely and spoke directly to Grayson. "Grayson, I'm handing you full control of the car. Let's ignore him. If he actually dies — that's on him. He's choosing this." The moment she finished, they locked everything down. The car went into sealed, impenetrable mode. From the outside, it looked like I'd gone back on my surrender — like I was recklessly charging back into the race and looking for a fight. Racers are young, hot-blooded, and proud. They don't take kindly to that kind of provocation. "That rat Ethan — he played us! Everyone go, take him out!" Even some of my own teammates didn't understand what was happening. A few of them tried to speed up and check on me — and Natalie shut them down instantly. "Hold your positions! Nobody passes Ethan's car. That's an order." "But this doesn't match the strategy Ethan briefed us on — we're supposed to be racing as a unit. His car is a target right now. If this keeps up, first place—" "Shut up. I speak for Ethan. I'm his girlfriend." "Ethan! Ethan, say something!" I beat my fists against the sealed window until they bled. No one heard a thing. The car held. I was an animal trapped in a cage, thrashing until I'd torn myself apart — and it changed nothing. Then the air inside the car began to thin. Grayson's voice slid into my ear, low and cold. "Ethan. Go ahead and die. Once you're gone, I'm done pretending to be sick, done playing the victim. I'll tell your parents exactly how heroically you went out. Your team, your car, your girlfriend — I'll take good care of all of it for you. Rest easy." Grayson had never had good intentions. He'd been waiting for the right moment. Now he steered my car deliberately into Drake — trying to ignite a fresh wave of fury from Drake's crew. Ahead, the most treacherous curve on the circuit appeared. With Drake's team bearing down on me, I had ten seconds left. Maybe less. My body went cold as the blood poured out of me. Consciousness began slipping, dragging me toward darkness. Grayson's triumphant laughter detonated in my ears, savoring every second of my helpless struggle. I wasn't ready to give up. God, I wasn't ready. Was this really how it ended? "Ethan! We're coming for you!"
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