Max Verstappen is a beast on track, dominating season after season. But on the inside, he is slowly unraveling, his mental health declining faster and faster.
Natalia Bridgers is daughter of a famous model and a world-renowned billionaire. Tied to...
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tagged: @ava_pierce @nataliabridgers: two pretty besties in a pretty city 🇮🇹
Liked by @danielricciardo, @maxverstappen1, and 3,518,324 others
ava_pierce: love you bestie 🫶 maxverstappen1:🤍 user505: yo what is danny ric doing here?? user033: GET OUT OF ITALY CHEATER
Max Verstappen (POV): [TW: j0s verstapp€n, abu$e, talks about su!cid€, p@nic @ttack]
Pictures of Daniel, Natalia, her friend Ava, and me filled social media and gossip accounts. I could see the look of horror on our faces, and also how exposed we feel. It's easy to read our facial expressions.
My stomach clenches every time I look at Natalia, distraught and stress carved into her features. Her comments on her social media become more and more vile, which angers me. I want to stop people from thinking these things about her, but I can't.
Unfortunately, our pictures made their way to none other than Jos Verstappen.
"Why'd you lie to me?" he barked in my face, pushing me against the wall. "You told me you had a meeting after media day! But instead, you wasted time with talentless fools who are dragging you down!"
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to stop the misery from seeping further into my bones, but it's not working. "I-I did have a meeting," I said quietly. "I thought I did, but then Christian said to go eat with Daniel. I-I didn't know the others would b-be there."
"You're a goddamn idiot. What good are you anyway? How the fuck do you not know your whore is eating dinner with you!"
I try not to flinch as he comes closer.
"That bitch is responsible for all of this! I know it! That's why you lost the race, such a fucking useless brat. No one would want a son like you, much less me." My heart stopped all together. "Stop getting distracted! YOU HAVE TO WIN EVERY FUCKING TIME!"
This time I do flinch, which is the wrong thing to do. His anger explodes, and he shoves me down onto the floor. And then his foot slams into my back.
The air whooshed from my lungs, and I couldn't move at all from the ground.
My father crouches down towards me, his whiskey breath fanning across my face. "You're so fucking pathetic," he growls. Before he walks out, he spits directly on me.
And then he leaves. Leaves me on the hotel ground, in pain both mentally and physically. I can't move at all, not when agony stretches across my whole back.
It takes a while for me to finally move. I crawl over to the couch, pushing myself up shakily and getting on top of the small piece of furniture. I'm shaking from the pain, but also from frustration.
