A/N: Can't really figure out what inspired this. Not that it matters, really. It's kind of dark, so be warned. Deals with a theme never really dealt with on this Fanfiction site, at least not to my knowledge.

"Good afternoon, Miss Waldorf. Here is your lunch."

A white tray was placed before Blair as she sat at the little white table in the corner of the room. It was perfectly square, the room that is. The walls were white, the bed was white, and the tiles were baby blue and white, well blue enough to contrast everything else. On the far side of the room, above the bed, was sunflower clock that read 12:30 p.m. It had 31 petals. She'd counted 12 times today and the ticking was driving her mad.

"I've smuggled some watermelon from the kitchen just for you. I know it's your favorite," the nurse said. Was she a nurse? Was that what they called them? Either way, she was in white too. Even her sickening smile was white. How did she know that watermelon was her favorite? Had she met this nurse before? The clock now read 12:32. It was almost impossible not to constantly look at the clock. It was the only thing worth looking at in the blank room.

The nurse sat down to watch Blair eat her food. She let her bare feet rub against the cold tile floor. They'd taken all of her shoes and would only let her wear the heinous hospital shoes. Blair, of course, refused and would much rather go barefoot. They didn't care either way, but she already knew that.

She tried to remember how she got here. It feels like just yesterday Blair was letting Chuck run his hand up her sweater. God she missed him. Where was he? He hadn't called her in a while now. Not since the ball, which was…how many days ago? A few weeks, considering Christmas was just two days ago.

"Don't forget to take your vitamins," the nurse cooed. Blair looked at the clock that ticked 12:40 and then to the left of her white plastic plate at her "vitamins" and noted how small they were for vitamins. Did all vitamins come in red and green capsules? They were odd colors for vitamins. But then again, ever color seemed odd after being in a blank room for hours at a time.

Red and green reminded her of Christmas. She never heard from her father since he left yesterday. Perhaps she should call him. She looked up at the nurse who'd been looking at her the whole time.

"May I call my father?" she asked. She wasn't sure why she felt the need to ask, after all she could just use her cell phone. Where was it anyway?

The nurse shifted her gaze to the clock and pity washed over her features. "I don't think that can be arranged today," she responded, an air of sympathy emitting as her stiff posture slackened slightly.

Blair was confused, "Well, why not? I believe I have the right to call whoever I want."

The nurse opened her mouth to say something when the white door opened and a tan mousy-haired head popped in.

"Bridget, the patient has someone here to see her. He's over eighteen so you can take your break now if you want," he said in a cheery tone. He never looked at Blair, though. As if she were as alive as the plastic white nightstand perfectly positioned next to the bed on the far side of the room.

The nurse nodded and Blair took this free time to do her new favorite pastime, look at the clock. Now it was 12:42.

She turned back to the table and the nurse was gone, but the man was still at the door, watching someone approach from down the hall outside. Blair couldn't seem to find interest in it and set her wrists down on the chilled white table.

"Ahh," she hissed softly. Lifting her left wrist, she realized it ached to put pressure on it. Her white sleeve had ridden up and the bare skin of her lower arm had touched the iciness of the table. She flipped over her arm and gasped at the two large gashes healing slowly. They were red, jumping out from the white of her skin.

"What…" she murmured and her mind was suddenly flooded with images.

Her father drove away with Roman in a cab as she waved adieu and cried, "I'll visit the next chance I get!"

A sweatered arm stuck out from the window and waved back.

Her phone buzzed as she snatched it from her vanity.

"Hello?"

She'd seen ghost, or at least she looked like she had.

"Police chase? Yes I understand. I'll be there immediately."

Fluorescent lights, much too bright. Everything blurs together like when she used to dance on tables with Serena, unaware of how much clothing she still had on.

The gold numbers 258 shine clear and bright at the end of the hall and she makes a b-line for them.

Beeping. Steady beeping and she can't understand what could be wrong. It was still beeping, but he wasn't waking up. He wasn't moving, but he was breathing. He was alive, but he couldn't be anything else. He just lied there on the white sheets.

Tears dribbled down her face as she mumbled, "Daddy?"

She lifted a shaking hand to her cheek and felt it dry. What was happening? Where was her father? Was he still in the hospital? She didn't remember him ever waking up, in fact, she didn't remember much at all after what had just flashed before her eyes. She had to find him, see him. For all she knew, he could have woken up and she wasn't there. What would he think if he woke up alone, or worse, with just Roman there to greet him? Then he would never come home again.

"Blair?"

The clock ticked 12:44.

She looked up and realized she was still sitting at the table with her half eaten meal before her.

The she felt her heart pound in her chest and her stomach to a back flip.

"Chuck?" she whispered meekly. She was still shaken from her flashback of sorts.

"Make sure she takes her, uh, vitamins," the man said before closing the door on the two.

Chuck kneeled down to Blair's eyelevel and grabbed her hands.

"Chuck…I-I…" she stammered, but no words would form. She stared at him, not even sure what to think.

"Oh, god, Blair, I would have come sooner if I knew," he said, his eyes scanning her trembling frame. Where was he? Oh yes, Monaco. It was all coming back, but in pieces. Wait…why couldn't she remember in the first place?

He held her hands and led her over to the bed so she could sit comfortably. He sat next to her and wrapped his arm around her. She leaned into him naturally and toyed with his scarf. He kissed her matted curls and his fingers trailed over the scars on her wrist. She winced and he noticed.

He rubbed her shoulder as he whispered in her ear, "You do know how to go out in style, don't you B. I would have pegged you as a vodka and painkiller type of girl, though, don't you think?" Blair started to cry, but the reason she couldn't quite grasp. She knew something horrible had happened, but nothing came to mind. Just this clenching pain in her heart as she listened to Chuck's soothing voice.

"Shit, Blair, you sure know how to fuck with my mind. I could have half sworn you'd be dead when I walked through that door. But then I thought how you wouldn't be caught dead in anything that didn't come out of Vogue," he rambled. It was his way of dealing as he traced her scabby scars. Blair sat up and stared at Chuck through squinted eyes. The clock behind her read 12:47.

"What are you…talking about?" she asked. He still had her wrist in his soft hands. God, his hands were so soft and gentle. But what was he talking about? Chuck seemed as perplexed as she was. Then it happened again, just like before, like an old movie projector.

"I'm so sorry, but we will call as soon as anything changes," the nurse said. Blair nodded and picked up the coat he'd given her for Christmas before rising to her feet and taking one last look as she walked through the door and out into the hall.
She hugged herself as she walked in a daze. It didn't occur to her to hail a cab. She needed the thinking time anyway. Well, turns out she wasn't thinking as much as she should have been as she failed to notice the street she just turned onto was deserted.
"Wait…you don't remember?" he asked, almost afraid of the answer. She was shaking again and opening and closing her eyes. "Blair…Blair!" She felt someone touch her, but it wasn't Chuck.
"Stop it, please!" she pleaded, as she choked on her sobs. He had her pinned against a dumpster as her coat laid a heap on the ground. Pretty soon her dress joined it. She was pushing and scratching but he just kept on slopping disgusting kisses on her neck. Pretty soon he grabbed her perfectly curled hair and yanked her head backwards.
"Blair, stop it, it's okay, its just me, Chuck!" he cried as she began to sob, her eyes shut in agony.
"Shut it, or I'll do it for you," he spat in her ear.

She couldn't think, so she screamed, "SOMEONE HELP ME, PLEASE HELP ME!" A punch in her gut and she doubled over. She kept sobbing as he pushed her to the ground. "No, don't…!"

He pressed his hand over her mouth and she gagged. He was hovering over her, unbuttoning his pants…

Her eyes flew open and she was an inch away from Chuck's nose. He was breathing as heavily as she was as he held her shoulders to face him.

He looked into her dark eyes and swallowed as the thick tears leaked from them. He could see she'd just relived everything. Every detail. She just stared at the clock ticking along as it said 12:49.

"Shit," he mumbled as he drew her into his embrace. He held her as she let out heart-shattering cries of despair. She was gripping his shirt so tightly he thought it might rip. "I will never let anything happen to you again."

"It hurt, Chuck," she said, "so horribly."

"It's over now," he said softly, pulling her closer, if that was even possible.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't want…I just wanted it to stop hurting," she whimpered into his neck.

The door burst open and Chuck tightened his hold around her as nurses bustled in.

"She never took her meds," one said as another pulled Blair from Chuck's arms. She started screaming.

"No! Get off of me, don't touch me!" she shrieked. She began to flail and kick as they tried to subdue her. "Chuck help me!" She looked at him utterly powerless as they stuck a needle in her arm and she fell almost limp. He caught her under her arms as she almost fell to the floor. Her head felt like lead as she tried to keep it up.

"Blair, it's okay, I've got you. I'll be here when you wake up, just go to sleep. I'll be here, I promise," he said sweetly. Blair smiled before letting the drug takeover her senses and the only sound she could make out was the ticking as the clock read 12:56. It broke his heart to feel her go limp in his arms. He laid her on the bed as the nurse attended to her.

The male nurse put a gloved hand on Chuck's coated shoulder.

"I'm not so sure about that promise, there, son," he said. Chuck felt his stomach drop.

"What do you mean; I can't stay here with her?"

"Well, no, the mother's ordered that she remained quarantined. And quite frankly, I think that's a good idea at this point."

Chuck felt claustrophobic just thinking about how she'll react when she wakes up and he's not there. He promised her, and Chuck Bass is never one to break a promise. The clock kept ticking as it passed 12:58.

The doctor seemed to sense this and added, "Don't worry, she won't even remember you were here."

Chuck swallowed thickly.

"Yeah," he said to himself, "No worries." He looked at her unconscious form and couldn't find the will to resist as he was led from her room. The door closed and he peered through the window at her sleeping. A man walked up behind Chuck and conversed with the nurse.

"Again? Well then we can try treatment again tomorrow. She has two more weeks of treatment, Mrs. Waldorf signed her up for 30 days worth. Then we have to send her to a real institution."

Chuck could only imagine what a "real institution" must be like if this was just a rehab center. The clock behind her bed struck 1 o'clock and he locked his gaze on her as she didn't even so much as twitch in her slumber until the nurse turned off the light, and her room became darkness.

A/N: So there you have it. I don't think I have anything else to say about it. It pretty much speaks for itself.