My right leg was shattered, and the engine's heat had burned the flesh of my thigh raw across a wide stretch of skin.
Even if every treatment after this went perfectly, there was no guarantee I'd walk normally for years.
As for racing…
My career.
It was over.
I lay there staring at the ceiling, something lodged in my throat, unable to push out a single word.
The young assistant threw herself down beside my bed and started to cry.
She was one of my fans. She'd joined this team in the first place because of me.
She never imagined her first real, up-close moment with me would be watching them carry me off the track.
She cried and cursed at the same time.
"This is sick. You're hurt this badly, and Mr. Delgado wouldn't even bring you to the hospital. He just had to stay at the track with Margot to handle the reporters."
"Margot only finished fifth, and he's out there saying that finishing her first world race at all is already a huge accomplishment, that she deserves a victory party."
"From the moment they brought you into this hospital until now, he hasn't called once."
My voice came out hoarse.
"Did I make it across the finish line?"
The young assistant's tears broke loose all over again.
It was a long time before she answered, barely above a whisper.
"No."
"The last ten meters. You got thrown clear of the car."
"No finish. No result."
Slowly, I closed my eyes.
Tears slid down past the corners and into the pillow.
Footsteps came at the door. Rufus's assistant walked in with a few people behind him,
saying Mr. Delgado wanted them to bring me over to the press conference.
The young assistant snapped.
"The doctor said she needs to rest, she's hurt this badly, and you want to drag her where?"
Rufus's assistant didn't answer. He just dialed Rufus right there in front of us.
Rufus's voice came through the speaker.
"A lot of the media today are saying Margot was parachuted into the starting lineup, that she climbed up over you. That kind of talk is bad for her future."
"You need to come down here and clear it up yourself. Say you decided to retire on your own, and admit Margot fits the team better than you do right now."
Hearing that, the young assistant was so furious the tears spilled over again.
But I just looked quietly at my immobilized leg, and after a long while I spoke.
"I'll come."
"But I want out of the team contract. A clean release, no fault on me."
Rufus's voice dropped at once.
"Christine, you really have to sulk and fight me on this?"
I looked down at the right leg I couldn't feel and answered calmly.
"You probably don't know. My thigh's shattered. I may never sit on a bike again as long as I live. Someone like me leaving the team, isn't that exactly how it should go?"
"I just don't want you using a breach penalty to hold over my head later."
The other end went silent for a long time.
I couldn't tell whether the extent of my injuries had stunned him, or my words had choked him off.
In the end, he said just one word.
"Fine."
