The memories came in sharp, broken pieces.
*Flash.*
The stadium. Sixty-five thousand people. Pink and white lights.
Alicia was halfway through "Welcome, Beautiful" when Baby's voice cut through like a knife.
*I want to go home…*
Alicia missed a note. The mic trembled in her hand.
*Flash.*
Baby pushed forward—not fully in control, just enough.
The body froze on stage. Huge, terrified eyes. A small child's voice came out of the superstar's mouth:
"Mommy… I'm scared…"
The crowd thought it was part of the show. A few nervous laughs. Then silence.
*Flash.*
The crack.
Alicia tried to wrestle back control. Lilith screamed. Mircalla tried to lock the gate.
Baby cried louder.
The body dropped to its knees on stage.
The lights became too bright. The music stopped dead.
Mia screamed.
A real scream. Raw, animal, nothing to do with pop.
*Flash.*
Blood.
She had bitten her tongue almost in half.
Security rushed the stage.
Her mother ran from the wings, face white for the first time in years.
"Mia! Mia, stop!"
*Flash.*
The ambulance.
Sirens.
Her mother beside her in the back, gripping her hand too tight, whispering:
"It's going to be okay, sweetheart. Triple E will fix this. Don't say anything. Don't say anything."
*Flash.*
The clinic.
White doors. Lights that never turned off.
Her mother standing in the hallway, already on the phone with lawyers.
"Yes, total isolation. Yes, sedation if necessary. No visitors. We'll say she's in creative rest."
The last memory before everything went black:
Baby, tiny, curled in a corner of the palace, whispering:
"They're going to hurt us again…"
And Lilith, from the shadows, answering softly:
*No. Never again.*