Summary: Sequel to The Vampire and the Socialite. Now that B has resigned herself to "middle class hell" to be with Edward, what now? A tragic accident thrusts Blair back into her world; the world of the elite, scandals, drugs, and of course Gossip Girl. What's a heartbroken girl to do in NYC? Especially with the big bad Chuck Bass around. Careful, B. Not all wolves are the literal kind. Best described as: The rebellious lovechild of New Moon and Sex and the City.

Rated M: for sexual content, drug use, and minor violence.

Media: There's an awesome playlist and posters for this. Links on my profile.

Prologue:

Dear Edward

I'd like to preface this e-mail by informing you that I'm writing this very much under the influence of various substances and my friends. They inform me that drunkenly telling you off is a right I now hold. Also, apparently I complain about you. A lot. But don't allow yourself to be flattered. I know there's no way you'll read this. If I thought you would I certainly wouldn't send it. But if you do, I still hate you. Just putting it out there.

I don't know what I'm supposed to write. I have nothing to say to you. Literally nothing. You're gone and I can't blame you. I know now that I'm unlovable beyond repair. You don't want me and I hate you with the fire of a thousand suns. So I guess it's a good deal. Hating you gets me through the day when I'm not doing other things to fill my time. But your ghost still haunts my every move.

No. I'm not being poetic. I would never use such a trite line. I mean your ghost; the hazy, floating, even more judgmental version of you that stalks my every move. There's a good chance that you think I'm crazy right now. So let me rewind. Since you left your ghost- you know, like Casper- won't stop judging me. Figment of my mind or not, it's very real and it's you and quite frankly I'd like it to stop. You're ghost is even more overprotective than you ever were. It yells at me while I smoke. It tries to tell me not to take prescriptive drugs. Judges me while I drink. And… yesterday it even told me not get the Baconator from Wendy's. Obviously I would never go to such a plebian place but it was late and I had the munchies and even Wendy's seems less common when you're in limo filled champagne and models on a binge. I digress. Essentially, I hate you and your stupid ghost. You promised me it would be as if you never existed. I don't recall having a ghost with judgy honey eyes following me around before I met you.

Ghost aside I want to reiterate the fact that I loath you. I hope your life is miserable and pointless without me. My life is en rose. I want you to know that I'm having a fabulous time without you. You once said you thought it was important for me to experience a human life. Well for the first ever I'm doing just that- being alive. I've spent my life as the, and I quote Dan, "soulless living doll". Now, I do whatever and whomever I please. Shall I tell how awkward it was making love to a British lord or the French viscount with your ghost in the room? Very much so. I cannot stress how much I abhor your ghost… and you. Always you. Oh and there were the affairs with the Saudi oil tycoon's son, the married broker, the Lacrosse team, the…oh I'm sorry. I do seem to remember you having a possessive streak…The Italian artist, the lead singer of Cobra Starship... Where was I? Oh yes- They're calling me the new Serena around here which amuses me since apparently I've become a bad influence on her- Which has dubbed me the fine title of, "Serena noir". I am having what people call a downward spiral. I call it fun.

In sum, I hope this e-mail is more coherent than a drunken dial. I hope wherever you are is dark and your nights are filled with the thoughts of a thousand suicidal people. I'm smiling now. I'm vein enough to know that although you never loved me I'm anything but forgettable. Good luck trying to forget me with that photographic memory of yours. I hope it gives you hell. I never think of you. I'm lying and apparently currently telling that I'm lying with no plans of deleting that fact. Maybe it's because I know if you were here right now you'd easily read my mind and know the truth. The truth is that I'm so glad I can hate you so arduously. If I didn't have my overwhelming hatred for you I honestly don't know how I would've survived those first months after you left. It keeps me alive today. It keeps me moving, living, trying to prove to you- to everyone- that I am someone worth loving. I won't sit around crying over you. I won't be still. I won't let myself come down from this high to mourn us…

Well I must go. I'm going off to do something reckless.

-Blair Cornelia Waldorf.