Verosika Mayday shined under the blinding stage lights, her voice ringing with unquestionable confidence. The crowd roared with excitement, a wave of enraged demons chanting every word of her latest hit. Dressed in a dazzling outfit that highlighted her figure, Verosika moved with a hypnotic grace, her gestures precise and full of energy. She was the perfect image of a star who had everything under control.
"I don't need anyone, I am my own sun...!" Verosika sang, her voice rising above the clamor of the crowd. The lights flickered to the music, and her smile was radiant, a perfect mask of confidence and power. As she finished her performance, her applause was deafening. Verosika raised a hand in thanks, soaking up the audience's adoration.
Backstage, the atmosphere was euphoric. Verosika was surrounded by her team, who showered her with praise. The technicians, makeup artists and assistants moved around her, adjusting details and congratulating her on her performance.
"Thanks, guys. It was a great night," Verosika said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"You are incredible, Verosika. No one can say that you haven't overcome all that," commented one of her assistants, admiringly.
"Oh, of course. Blitzo is ancient history now," she replied, feigning indifference.
As her words filled the air, Verosika maintained her smile. But in her eyes there was a hint of something deeper, something she hid behind that carefree façade.
Later, in her luxurious apartment, Verosika was alone. The opulence of the place only accentuated the loneliness that surrounded her. The room was elegantly decorated, with expensive furniture and exquisite art, but in the dim light it seemed gloomy and empty.
Verosika sat in front of a large mirror, beginning to remove her makeup. Her hands trembled slightly as she stripped away the layers of color that covered her face. Each stroke of makeup remover revealed the truth she was hiding: a deep and persistent sadness.
"Why, Blitzo? Why did you leave me?" she whispered, barely audibly.
She stood up and began to wander around the apartment, her footsteps echoing in the stillness. Every corner of the place seemed to carry memories of her past relationship. The shadows lengthened, and the noises from the building seemed amplified, filling the silence with a disturbing presence.
As she moved around the room, Verosika began to see shadows and figures resembling Blitzo in every corner. Her mind, playing with her, transformed the vague shapes into her ex.
"I never truly loved you, Verosika," a shadow whispered, its mocking voice echoing in her head.
"You will always be the second option, never the main one," another figure added, laughing cruelly.
"Get out of my head, Blitzo! You can't keep tormenting me!" Verosika shouted, clenching her fists in a desperate attempt to ward off the hallucinations.
The visions continued, whispering painful truths and cruel taunts. Verosika headed to the bar of her apartment, desperate to silence the voices. She grabbed a bottle of liquor and poured herself a generous swig, downing it in one gulp. But the alcohol couldn't calm her thoughts. In a fit of anger, she threw the bottle against a wall, where she believed she had seen another Blitzo figure. The glass shattered into a thousand pieces, scattering liquid and fragments across the floor.
Staggering and drunk, Verosika stopped in front of a large painting of Blitzo that she had hanging on one of the walls. The portrait, a reminder of happier times, now looked at her with an expression that she interpreted as mockery.
"You! What right do you have to still be here? Why do you keep tormenting me? I thought you were gone!" she stammered angrily, her voice filled with pain.
The painting, silent and undisturbed, did not respond, but in her alcohol-clouded mind, Verosika heard Blitzo's voice mocking her.
"You will always be the one who couldn't keep me. You will always be the one left behind," his voice echoed in her mind, mocking and cruel.
"Shut up! Shut up already! You know nothing! Nothing!" Verosika shouted, hitting the painting furiously. Tears began to fall, soaking her face and making her look even more broken. She hit the painting furiously, her rage and pain overflowing with each blow.
Exhausted and defeated, Verosika collapsed on the couch, hugging a stuffed pony, a gift Blitzo won for her at a fair. It was a tangible memory of the happy times they shared, a physical connection to their past.
"I thought I could surpass you. I thought I was strong. But you left me broken..." she whispered, her voice breaking.
Tears were beginning to fall, soaking her stuffed animal. Verosika sobbed in the darkness, her mask of strength crumbling completely. The apartment, once a symbol of success and glamour, now seemed like a prison.
The camera slowly zoomed out, capturing the image of Verosika in her loneliness, a tragic contrast to the strong and confident image she had shown the world. The pop star, adored by many, revealed her vulnerability in the privacy of her home.
The night progressed, and Verosika was still hugging her stuffed animal, lost in her thoughts and memories. The city lights shone through the windows, oblivious to the pain that consumed the star in her loneliness.
Verosika closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment of weakness, of humanity. Maybe tomorrow she would put on her mask again, to face the world with the same radiant smile and the same overflowing energy. But tonight, in the privacy of her home, Verosika Mayday was simply a woman broken by lost love, struggling to find her way through the darkness.