Chapter 4

Blaze's POV

 

 

My vision blurs as the night air cools my face. My motorcycle's headlights pierced the night sharply, and the roaring motors behind me struck my head like a hammer.

 

I'm starting to worry now about what was in that drink. I should merely have a hangover because I slept it off, yet I still feel inebriated. My body aches like I’m being ripped apart from the inside out, and I can barely think straight.

 

I wince as pain from my wounded rib penetrates me like a knife as I brace myself for the next curve.

 

Fuck! That old man—he could have waited until I healed to give me this chance. Right now, it feels like I’m being sent on a death mission. This isn’t a race. It’s a suicide run.

 

The sharp turn is brutal. My grip tightens on the handlebars as I push through, fighting to keep control of my bike. Every bump in the road makes my rib throb harder, and the pain clouds my focus. I can’t even see clearly anymore.

 

A flash of movement to my left catches my eye. Someone breezes past me like I’m standing still.

 

Shit! I’ve slowed down too much. I never let anyone overtake me except Carlo, and even then, I don’t make it easy for him. Whoever this is, they must be riding with some serious skill or determination—or I’m really that messed up.

 

I grit my teeth, trying to keep up. I have to win. I can’t afford to lose. This race is my only way out, my one shot at freedom. My body may be falling apart, but I have to push through. I need to ignore the pain, ignore the dizziness, ignore everything.

 

But that glare… I can still feel it—someone watching me intensely. It’s like a burning sensation between my shoulder blades. It makes me want to look back, but I can’t risk it. Not at this speed.

 

Get it together, Blaze!

 

The cool breeze touched my skin the moment I increased the speed of my motorbike. This adrenaline runs through me; the heat from the race goes against the cold sweat on my skin. My pulse races harder than the engine and the roaring of bikes around me seems like they are going to war.

 

Suddenly there is another bike moving alongside me in the track. What the fuck?

 

I really wish I had the energy to pull out ahead of them if it wasn’t for the fact that I am too drunk and in severe pain. I strive to concentrate, but the black obscures objects – and devours the world.

 

I hear a sharp screeching sound—metal against the pavement, tires skidding. What the hell is going on?

 

Did someone crash? The noise is so loud, it rattles my bones.

 

And then it happens. My world flips upside down as I lose control. My bike skids, and I feel my body tumbling over and over. My helmet cracks against something hard. Everything spins in a chaotic blur. The darkness deepens until I can barely make out the shapes around me.

 

Shit! Did I crash? No, no, no! I can’t have crashed. I need to reach the finish line. I need to win this.

 

I try to move, but my body won’t respond. It’s like I’m paralyzed, trapped inside a shell that won’t obey me. Damn it!

 

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Move, bones! Get up! Get back on the bike! I scream at myself, but it’s useless. Every command stays locked in my head, and the only sound I can hear is a soft, pitiful whimper—my own voice, barely a whisper.

 

Suddenly, harsh lights flood my face. They’re blinding, like torches being shoved right into my eyes. Voices filter through the haze—some familiar, others not. They’re yelling my name, but I can’t tell who’s who. Everything sounds distant like I’m underwater.

 

“Hah! Fuck! Ow... My head… hurts…” As my body gives in to the pain and I am unable to resist it any longer, my mind wanders. The world gets silent and darkness surrounds me.

 

My eyes slowly open, and as the fog lifts, the world around me begins to come into focus. Above me is a harsh, strange white ceiling. Everything has a sterile, yet clean, antiseptic and disinfectant odor.

 

I'm not sure where I am.

 

My body won't let me move, even though I try. It feels like there are invisible chains binding my arms. I try to raise my head, but even that basic effort is hard as panic sweeps through me.

 

I look around, eyes darting here and there. Tubes are connected to my arms, and I can feel something heavy around my chest. Machines beep rhythmically beside me, filling the silence of the room.

 

Hospital. I’m in a hospital.

 

The realization dawns on me like a punch to the gut. The race… what happened?

 

Memories flood back in flashes—my bike tumbling, the screech of tires, the impact that sent me flying. My breath quickens as I struggle to piece it all together. My ribs still hurt, but now it's a dull throb instead of the searing pain I experienced before.

 

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out since my throat is dry. I need responses. Have I won? Did I cross the finish line? My head is racing, more quickly than any bike I've ever ridden.

 

A doctor walked in through the silently opened door, her expression displaying a mix of relief and concern.

 

"Blaze, you're awake," She whispers, her voice calming and comforting on my nerves. "You've been absent for some time."

 

Out? How long?

I can’t voice my questions, so I just stare at her, hoping she’ll continue.

 

“You were in a pretty bad accident,” she explains, adjusting one of the machines beside me. “It’s a miracle you’re even alive. You’ve been unconscious for a month, I almost gave up but here you are”

 

A fucking month? My heart sinks. That means the race is long over and forgotten.

 

My gaze falls to my legs. I try to wiggle my toes, but there’s no response. Fear coils in my stomach like a snake ready to strike. What’s happening to me?

 

“Don’t try to move too much,” the nurse advises, noticing my struggle. “Your body is still a mess You have a few broken ribs, spinal injury, and some internal injuries.”

 

Shit! Isn't she being hard saying all of this straight immediately when I open my eyes?

 

But, what I really want to ask is—did I win? Did I finish the race? But the words refuse to come. Tears of frustration well up in my eyes.

 

“Your friend is outside,” she adds, giving me a small smile. “He’s been here every day, waiting for you to wake up.”

 

My friend? Felix?

 

I close my eyes, the exhaustion washing over me like a tidal wave. The pain, the fear, the confusion—they’re all too much. My body feels heavy again, pulling me back into the dark abyss of sleep.

 

Fuck my freedom.