Page 2 of Sweet Poison

Then as I take the last turn, their voices hit me at full force.

“You killed her.”

“You ruined papa.”

“We’re fucked because of you.”

“You should be dead, Madden.”

“YOUU.”

The unyielding thoughts punish me, making my hands tremble slightly, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, I feel as though I might fuck this up. I might lose this one. I can’t let that happen. I’ve sacrificed too fucking much for this.

Since I started racing I hadn’t lost a single race.

This one couldn’t be the first. Fuck, no. This one will give me the title of champion.

The past and the present seem to drag me back, threatening to pull me down and keep me below water, unable to breathe surrounded by shadowy abyss of hopelessness and loss.

But I fight through it.

I don’t let that shit conquer me.

Then, out of nowhere, something shifts. Through the agonizing darkness a fleeting image flashes before my eyes—a soft, warm and kind smile. The smile that once made me believe this world wasn’t all bad. The smile that belonged to the girl with wild curls that reminded me of sun-kissed honey and eyes the same shade as the clear sky.

The fairy girl, who believed in me when no one ever did. Her smile even now had the power to light up my darkest moments and remind me of the person I used to be when it was just me and her in a magical garden.

The hardened boy who didn’t believe in anyone or anything let alone himself and his sweet as can be fairy who believed in him more than she ever believed in magic.

The memory of her smile is like a sudden burst of light and clarity amidst the darkness of my past.

I take a deep breath, shaking off the ugly memories when I hear her soft and beautiful voice urging me forward, telling me I’m stronger than I know and calling me her favorite person.

Shit.

There’s a tightness in my chest that blindsides me when I think of her but I push through it and refocus on the track andthe race. I turn to look at my opponents and then I push the accelerator to the limit, my car surging ahead with a fierce burst of speed leaving them behind. The growl of the engine roars louder, yet it doesn’t seem to drown her.

You can do anything…

One day… you’ll see.

You’ll do great things. How could you not, my favorite person.

Her soft voice plays through my mind like the loveliest melody I’ve ever and will ever hear guiding me forward.

As I hurtle toward the finish line, all that has kept me down all these years dissipates, replaced by a powerful surge of confidence and determination. Like always the final few meters are a blur of motion and noise. The car’s tires screech as they grip the track, and with a final, triumphant push, I cross the finish line crowning myself the winner.

The crowd erupts into a thunderous cheer as my car skids to a stop, victory assured. Through the haze of adrenaline, I allow myself a moment to savor this feeling in my chest. I won. I’m the fucking best and no one can take this from me. No one.

As I step out of the car, the cheers of the crowd wash over me, but it’s her smile, warm and encouraging, that remains the brightest image in my mind even after so many years have passed. Facing the crowd, I take off the helmet and take everything in. I did it.

I’m not that angry kid who was shipped from home to home because no one ever wanted him. I’m also not my brother. I’m not my father.

I not only conquered the Grand Prix, but I also made the dream this country promised my father a reality.

I did it.

I’m Madden fucking Hunt.

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