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If there was one thing you had to know about Aiden Clark, it was that he was a thrillseeker.
From the moment he had first touched his first skateboard – sleek and dark, the colour of iron, with red flames cutting across the sides. The very first thing he had done was paint a smiley face on it. Then he took it outside and promptly stacked it the moment he got on.
He didn’t cry like most kids his age might have. No, he laughed. He found a new thrill in the short burst of adrenaline being on the skateboard gave him. He went out every day, towing his deep grey skateboard behind him and grinning eagerly.
Eventually he improved. He learnt a couple tricks, and he had falls. Many, many falls. Stinging grazes, throbbing bruises. The hurt was strong, and it was thrilling but for Aiden Clark that wasn’t enough. He needed more speed, he needed more thrill. He needed more .
That lead to him discovering karting. His parents liked it more because there was less chance of him getting himself hurt. Aiden liked it more because of the adrenaline, because of the wind rushing through his hair, the humming of a delicate machine completely under his control. He grew to love karting.
He got quite good at it too. Suddenly, he was entering competitions and races. First for his city. Then statewide, and soon national. And then he went international. He flew from country to country, feet itching to be pressed against the pedals and hands itching to be closed around the steering wheel once again. He won races. He won fame. Soon enough he won a contract with Prema Racing.
Aiden didn’t plan to stop there. He had made it this far. He was often asked what his strategy in racing was, because it was unlike any they’d seen before. He always chuckled and told them they were flattering him too much. In truth, his strategy went much deeper.
You see, Aiden Clark had grown up with nothing. Not literally, the kid was a nepo baby of the highest order. But in his head and in his heart, he had nothing. Nothing but harsh white lights, 2-minute noodles his parents couldn’t even stick around to make him and his own treacherous thoughts.
His parents just hadn’t been there. Not even when he won his first race or got the message from Prema Racing. Not even when he had first realised that he wanted to die.
So you see, good people, Aiden Clark’s strategy was not really thought through. It wasn’t to win. It wasn’t to beat. It was to feel . To feel wind, to feel adrenaline, to feel pain. Just to feel anything. His strategy was reckless. Not because he was fearless, not because he was brave, simply because he didn’t care if he got hurt, and he certainly didn’t care if he died.
Soon enough, Aiden was a champion. He worked his way up the ranks, driving and crying and driving again. Everyday was the same to him. The same repeating cycle of training, of workouts and interviews and media. This cycle didn’t tire him, and it didn’t bore him. It gave him a distraction, a twisted escape from a nightmare he was forced to wake through.
Then one day, Aiden received an invite from the Christian Horner at RedBull Racing. This was it. This was his time. Sleek carbon wings and unmatched aerodynamic speed, it was the ultimate thrill, the ultimate adrenaline fix.
And it was. For a season and a half, the RedBull Formula 1 team had never been better. Second in the championship, Aiden Clark was world famous for his snarky charm and his captivating driving style, unlike anything the world had seen before. Then came the annual Imola Grand Prix.
The last 2 races hadn’t been Aiden’s best. He hadn’t had a podium, the first races since last year’s Brazilian Grand Prix that this had occurred. Ashlyn, his race engineer, was kind and supporting, but it was clear his team's patience was wearing thin.
“Alright Aiden, tyres are looking stable, we should last until the end of the race. Probably comfortable 4 th as long as you don’t do anything stupid.” Ashlyn’s voice crackled through the radio. Aiden smiled to himself.
“Copy that, will do something stupid.”
He ignored Ashlyn’s sigh over the radio. Little did he know that was the last he’d hear of her voice.
The scarlet rear wing of Tyler Hernandez’s Ferrari loomed in his vision. He was close. Maybe on the straight he could gain slipstream, activate DRS or something. Then he could overtake. His podium streak could return. And maybe, just maybe... Tyler would notice him as more than just a rival on the track.
The turn into the straight approached. Aiden was so close, almost wheel to wheel. If he turned his head he would see Tyler’s helmet just infront. This seemed like a perfect time for an Aiden Clark classic overtake.
Something swelled in Aiden’s chest. Maybe the adrenaline was taking over, or maybe he was just desperate to redeem himself. Whatever it was, in that moment Aiden Clark lost all doubts. He was going to make this overtake spectacular.
The overtake did turn out spectacular, just not in the way Aiden quite intended. His car approached, RedBull blue against Ferrari red, wings bumping and tyres scraping. Tyler attempted to make a move, pushing Aiden out wide. Aiden retaliated.
Bad idea.
His steering wheel jerked, ramming into the side of Tyler’s car. His tyres lifted, car swerving to the side. The gravel lining the track dug into the rubber, spilling forth like a swarm of ants into the track.
THUNK . Aiden’s car tumbled back onto the track, all four wheels now on the ground once again. He probably should’ve accepted that he could’ve just died and it wasn’t worth trying to keep fighting. But then again, this was Aiden Clark we are talking about.
He pushed once more, pressuring Tyler’s rear and gaining on him. Turns out, Aiden was so busy trying to push the Ferrari he completely forgot about the corner. Tyler braked into the corner, and he went straight over.
The car became airborne. In one small, beautiful moment, Aiden Clark flew. It was a moment he had dreamt of since he was a little kid. He had always wanted to fly. In that one small moment, he became numb to the rest of the world. All was quiet in his head.
The car came crashing down. It did a 360 sideways in the air, crashing and skidding across the ground, completely upside down. The car burst into flames.
Aiden Clark was unaware. Unaware of the flames licking his face, slowly melting through his helmet. Unaware of the mass of carbon, slowly pushing down on his gloved hands. Unaware of every shout and scream and breath escaping his mouth.
Aiden didn’t know if he was dying. He thought he might be. But ultimately, he was ok with that. Because in that moment, Aiden Clark was ok with dying. He liked the thrill.
And if there was one thing you had to know about him, it was that he was a thrillseeker.