malicious | max verstappen

fourty six.

I already had a good idea about what was in the other box, but I rushed to open it as eager as a child unwrapping gifts on Christmas.

It was the same camera my mom gave me. Same model, same color, same year, even the same amount of storage. It's like the camera was never destroyed.

Whilst it doesn't hold the same sentimental value my other camera had due to it being my mother's, this one held another type of sentimental value to me. All because it was him who got it.

When did he even have time to get all of this? And how did he find it so quickly? And so precisely?

I was overwhelmed with all sorts of feelings, ranging from sorrow and grief to complete and utter adoration.

To mark the memory of this moment, I snapped a picture of the gift, the card and box all together as the first photo captured by my new camera. This marks the start of new beginnings. For real this time.

During the long ride to the airport, I went into a full debrief about everything that went down the past few days with Violet.

Obviously, it was a step forward for me that I was actually honest with Max— and in a way, I was also being honest to myself.

What scared me the most though?

My mind.

Questions like 'where do we stand?' and 'where will we go from here?' didn't leave me alone. Once stuck in a loophole of these thoughts, I knew I was doomed. Setting myself up for self-sabotage, as I always did.

Then came my dad. Actually, scratch that— Marco. The bane of my existence. The person that never fails to make my life a living hell, just because he feels like it. I wanted nothing more than to throw him out of my life and shut the door on him. Once and for all.

While the idea of taking control felt empowering, it also sent shivers down my spine. Knowing my father, he was anything but predictable.

Once I landed in Madrid, I made my way to my aunt's house. She seemed much happier and full of light than last time I saw her which only made me even more ecstatic. She even had a new boyfriend, Miguel, who treated her the best.

If you saw us a few months ago and now, you'd see that we were two completely different people.

As I had dinner with the couple, I hesitantly shared my thoughts about dealing with my father to my aunt, whose face radiated with pride, praising me for how far I'd come. From a weak girl who crumbled under her father's pressure, to a strong woman who finally knew what she stood for– or at least was trying to.

To my luck, Miguel was the perfect guy to help me with what I had in mind since he was one of the most established lawyers Madrid had to offer.

So that's why, just one day before I had to fly back to Bahrain for the first race weekend of the season, I paid a visit to my father. Alone.

With shaky hands and staggered breaths, I knocked twice on his door. A few moments later, the door creaked opened, revealing a bruised and swollen face that I could barely recognize as my father.

He seemed to notice my judgmental gazes as he cleared his throat, "You're admiring what your boyfriend did to me?"

Max... did this to him?