"Hey gorgeous," hollers the annoyingly handsome Riley Archibald from across the street, his tight-knit band of brothers behind him. Charlotte "Charlie" Waldorf-Bass looks up from her iPhone and looks across the street. Instead of focusing her attention standing right beside him, eyes guarded and face emotionless.
Usually, most girls would look at Riley first and then, once they are done admiring his angelic good looks, turn to check out his other companions. But for some reason, Charlie seems to just look past Riley. Sure, he is her only real companion on the Upper East Side, but for some reason she just always looks for the other Archibald twin.
Their entire group jaywalk towards Charlie, provoking an Indian taxi driver to poke his head out of the window and yell at the five prep school boys. They simply snicker, shrugging the aggravated rants of the taxi driver away.
Unknown to Charlie, her Emerald orbs are still on Rhyze. Rhyze, who catches Charlie gaping at him, smirks and winks towards her direction. Luckily, none of the other guys notice, instead clamoring together and laughing at the taxi driver. The younger Archibald twin then turns back to Charlie, smiling.
"I thought you guys were taking a cab to Carve on 47th and 7th for lunch," says Charlie. Penn snorts.
"We were, until Riley made us turn the cab around and come back to school," Penn says pointedly, eyeing Riley.
"Why? You know how Derrek gets when he doesn't eat," the brunette points out, looking over at Derrek Humphrey's pale, annoyed face. He growls, pushing past their group and into the courtyard, undoubtedly heading off to the dining hall to purchase food.
"W-well… I-I wanted to come ask you something," continues Riley.
"Couldn't you have just texted?" asks Charlie.
"I thought it was something I had to do in person," says the younger Archibald twin.
"Okay then, what is it?" presses the Waldorf-Bass.
"I wanted to ask if you, maybe, wanted to go out on a… Date… With me tomorrow night?" Charlie's smile drops, her eyes widening in genuine surprise.
"A d-date?" inquires Charlie, as if he is joking.
"Yes, a date," confirms Riley, grinning ear-to-ear.
"Well that sounds… Um" she trails off, unsure of how to let him down easy. It's not that she doesn't find Riley attractive, to be quite honest she finds him insanely gorgeous. And sure, he's fun to be around and he always treats her right but he just isn't what she wants. He doesn't make her feel like her insides are on fire. He doesn't render her breathless. He doesn't make her feel safe. He doesn't make her feel… Anything.
She looks behind her, only to be caught off guard by the numerous girls and boys hollering at her to accept Riley's offer. She turns back to Riley and then glances over at Rhyze, whose face doesn't betray any emotion. The brunette tries to bite back an annoyed growl.
What's this now? Rhyze Archibald isn't jumping in to crush Riley's spirits? Charlie thinks sarcastically. For some reason, the fact that Rhyze doesn't step in with some convincing yet over-the-top excuse for Riley to take back his offer just irks her. What happened to him wanting to hurt his brother?
Or rather, what happened to him being interested in you? Retorts another voice in Charlie's head, one that is actually honest about her feelings. Charlie sighs, so maybe she is slightly upset that Rhyze hasn't tried anything with her. She doesn't like him, oh no, jerk isn't her type she just expected it.
The ex-foster child looks over at Riley, who's still watching her expectantly. She gulps, she can just feel the pressure from everyone around them. From Penn and Anton to the rest of the student population.
"I don't think that's such a good …" begins Charlie, only to be caught off guard with Riley's usually bright face darkening. Behind him, Anton and Penn shake their heads in disapproval.
This can't happen. I can't lose the only friends I have! It's bad enough that everyone here hates me! She thinks in panic.
"Actually… Sure, what the hell!" answers Charlie, watching as Riley's face lights up brighter than the huge Christmas tree at the Rockefeller Centre.
"G-great!"
XoXo
Charles "Chuck" Bass stands in front of the closed doors of his private elevator, waiting for the doors to slide open and let him gain entrance into the elevator. He lets out an aggravated growl, unable to hold back his impatience. You'd think that a private elevator that only services him and his guests would be more available.
He can hear the elevator approaching and sighs in relief. He is and will never be a patient man. He blames it on his father, the late Bart Bass, who never had him wait for anything. After all, Bass's don't wait, others wait for them. As the elevator doors slide open, he's caught off guard by Blair Waldorf, mother to his illegitimate daughter and the former love of his life, standing inside.
The Bass patriarch purses his lips, taking in the very presence that is Blair Waldorf. Something about her, Chuck always notices, is always quite intimidating to others. Maybe it's her snobbish, elitist behaviour or her cold response towards strangers. Either way, she manages to come off as cold and heartless. But to Chuck, oh she's anything but. Whenever Blair's around every single part of what is Chuck Bass, from his frozen heart to his never satisfied crotch, always heats up.
Chuck likes to think of it as just a regular, natural response to a beautiful and sexy woman but even he knows that it's more than that. Nowadays, whenever Blair Waldorf is around, his heart starts racing. He loses all composure and charm that comes with being Chuck Bass and he just turn into some pathetic virgin at a European brothel.
The thought of me acting like an inexperienced virgin is incredibly ironic… He thinks to himself, only to be shaken out of his inner thoughts by Blair shoving past him and into his suite, crossing her arms as she inspects the suite
"Waldorf, I'd appreciate it if you don't sniff through my house," Chuck says slyly, walking up behind her.
"Is Charlie here?" she asks, not even bothering to reply to Chuck's sly comment.
"No, she's out with Brooke Baizen," reveals the Bass patriarch, making the brunette's eyebrows rise in genuine surprise.
"Brooke Baizen?" inquires the famous talk show host. Brooke and Charlie? Friends? Blair thinks in disbelief. Sure, Brooke Baizen is no Lorraine Humphrey or Elizabeth Wales. She's hardly prim and proper, in fact, she's sort of rude. If Blair is to really think about it she's sort of the odd one out. She's not nearly as pleasant as Elizabeth or sophisticated as Lorraine. She's much more gung ho and rock and roll.
Still, it's an odd match… She considers.
"I know, I was just as surprised," answers Chuck.
"So they're friends now?"
"Not exactly. Apparently, Lorraine Humphrey was the one who called Kyle to Charlie's part last week," he informs his once girlfriend, gesturing over to his black leather couch.
"This has been sanitized, right?" Chuck rolls his eyes, plopping down on the couch and crossing his legs. He pats the seat beside him, pursing his lips together seductively.
"Want to help me de-sanitize it?" he asks in a bare whisper, his eyes gaping into hers. She scoffs derisively, walking to the couch across from him.
"I'd prefer not to," she answers simply.
"Suit yourself, Waldorf," he replies.
"So Lorraine was the one who ruined Charlie's party?" Chuck nods. Leave it to Blair Waldorf to never let anything slide.
"Well, what does that have to do with Brooke?" asks Blair.
"Brooke Baizen has been 'scheming to take over Lorraine's role as alpha dog' and needed a proper ally to help her in her quest." Blair smiles. Oh, how she remembers the days of scheming, plotting and manipulation. She fondly looks back on her glory days, humiliating hopeful freshman (Jenny Humphrey) or rising from the ashes of her pregnancy scare and becoming a better, stronger and more feared than ever before.
"Remember when that was me?" the brunette can't help but point out, her eyes illuminating with nostalgia. Chuck's cocky smirk turns into a crooked smile as he thinks back to their high school days. Back to when Blair was the social tyrant known as the Queen Bee. Back to when Serena shifted from 'old Serena' to 'new Serena' so many times that no one even bothered to keep track anymore. Back to when Nate was the brooding golden boy. Back to when Chuck was a womanizing cad-
Because you aren't one anymore? His counters self consciously.
"With Serena or with Jenny?"
Blair shrugs nonchalantly
"Is there any difference? I won both wars didn't I?" Blair retorts wittily, relaxing her back on the leather couch. She peels off the lime green coat that covers her black silk long-sleeve shirt and places it right beside her.
"That you did, Waldorf," replies Chuck.
"Well," Blair says, pulling away from Chuck's burning gaze and looking down on her Jimmy Choo pumps. "Maybe I should just go-" Says Blair timidly, only to be interrupted by Chuck.
"Do you want a drink?" he cuts her off. Blair raises her eyebrows, genuinely surprised at the offer. It's common knowledge to everyone that there are more than enough un-discussed emotions between the two. That and they hate each other.
If I'm smart I'll just leave. I'll just say I'm tired, leave and go home like a proper Upper East Side woman would. Like any level-headed woman who fell in love with Chuck Bass only for him to break her heart would. It's the smart thing to do. The right thing.
"Sure," responds Blair half-heartedly, walking over to Chuck's bar.
XoXo
Three bottles of red wine later, Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf are sitting in front of Chuck's flat screen TV, watching as Holly Golightly (played by Blair's longtime favorite actress Audrey Hepburn) strum the chords of her guitar. Chuck looks over at Blair, who's loudly singing along with her high pitched voice. She stands up clumsily.
"… OH DREAM MAKER, YOU HEART BREAKER, WHEREVER YOU'RE GOING I'M GOING YOUR WAY!" Blair belts out at the top of her lungs out of drunken stupor, much to the already tipsy Chuck Bass' amusement.
"Waldorf, any louder and you'll break my ears," he slurs, grabbing her by the wrist and attempting to pull her back down. She stumbles, her body falling on top of the wealth Bass entrepreneur. Chuck grins stupidly, brushing away a stray lock of hair from Blair's porcelain-skin face.
"Chuck," Blair says quietly, her ruby red lipstick smeared from her thin lips. Chuck wipes away the excess lipstick before looking back at the doe-eyed beauty. She holds his gaze before she speaks
"Do you think we would have made it?" she asks, her voice low and slow. Ever since she and Chuck went on their separate ways 16 years ago, she always wondered if they would have made it. She always tried to figure out if they would have been together forever
"If I never asked to move in and if you never cheated…" she pauses "Would we have stayed together? If there was nothing else, no viable excuse for us not to be together, would we still be together?" she continues. She knows she's drunk and emotional and confused, but deep down she's honestly asking him.
Chuck sighs, he asks himself the same question every night before he goes to sleep. He looks up at Blair's expectant face and just shrugs nonchalantly. Instead of burdening him with more of her questions like she would have she just nods, not rolling off of his body just yet.
"Are you still good in bed?" the famous talk show asks Chuck, her eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Are you?" he replies. They stare into each other's eyes. Whether it's the alcohol, the nostalgia or the deep-rooted lust for each other's skill in bed, it's clear to both of them that they still aren't over each other. And if they are both to be completely honest, they might never be.
Blair looks down, avoiding Chuck's intense gaze. He smiles, even after sixteen years he can still read her better than anyone else. He raises his hand and gently rests it under her chin, lifting her gaze up to his own. The infamous talk show host gulps, her heart beat quickening dramatically.
She tries to pull away. She uses her will power, her pride and her dignity to convince herself to be sensible and get off Chuck Bass' body and leave his penthouse. And for awhile, Blair could have sworn she had mustered enough power to stand up. That is, until he pushes her chestnut brown tendrils to the back of her shoulder and rests his soft and thin lips on the crook of her neck
He kisses her shoulder gently before slowly trailing hot kisses up from the crook of her neck to her earlobe. Chuck nibbles on her ear. He can feel her succumbing to his desire just by the way her body went from tense to relaxed, is proof enough. But if that isn't enough, he feels her dainty hands run through his dark black hair, trying to regain control.
He smiles to himself, typical Blair Waldorf. The successful entrepreneur moves his lips from her right ear to her mouth, taking her breathe away with his aggressive approach. She gasps, giving Chuck the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth. For a minute or so, she doesn't respond to his tongue in her mouth. But slowly, after much prodding, she finally gives into him.
"Chuck," Blair moans, pulling away from his lips. She places both hands on his shoulders and forces him back down
"W-we shouldn't… We s-shouldn't do this," says the brunette breathlessly, thinking back to their daughter. Thinking back to her new responsibility of thinking about others, not just herself.
"Why not?" inquires Chuck, unable to hide his frustration. Here they are, passionately making out on the carpeted ground, only for her to shoot him down.
"Charlie," she reminds him. Blair waits for him to agree with her, to agree that they put a stop to their hormones. Instead, he fuses his eyebrows together.
"Why would Charlie have a problem with this?" the notorious womanizer asks, bewildered.
"Because," drawls Blair, "it would just complicate things. Imagine if you and I do sleep together. How do you think she'll feel?" demands Blair.
"Why would we talk to our daughter about our sex life?"
"T-that's n-not the point!" hisses Blair.
"Then what is the point?"
"The point is that if you and I sleep together, a new load of complication will arise! And that, surely, isn't what we want for Charlie right now," explains the Constance Billard alumni.
"Blair," Chuck says soothingly, sitting up.
"No one will ever have to know," he continues. "What w-we're doing here is s-scratching an itch. Were revisiting the past, that's all," says Chuck soothingly. Before Blair can protest, he leans in for another forceful kiss, washing her worries away.
XoXo
Charlie Waldorf-Bass hands the taxi driver $15 before jumping out of the yellow cab, with Brooke Baizen right behind her. They instantly run towards the entrance of the Waldorf apartment building in hopes of avoiding the rain. Once they enter the lobby, they both pull down the hoods that were covering their heads.
"So what did you think of the dress?" inquires Brooke conversationally, holding up her carton Bloomingdale's shopping bad and waving it around as they both walk to the Waldorf's private elevator in the very back of the hallway. The elevator guard, a tall and pleasant Caucasian man, acknowledges Charlie with a nod and opens the elevator for her. She smiles and him before entering the elevator with Brooke.
"It's really nice," answers the brunette, thinking back to the dark green Alexander McQueen dress Brooke purchased. "Isn't your dad going to be mad though? It was really expensive," Charlie points out worriedly. The red head just snorts, shaking her head.
"Not really, it was only $679," says Brooke simply, adjusting her grip on all of her eight shopping bags from Bloomingdale's, Bendel's and Barney's. The green-eyed beauty nods, pretending to understand completely. She looks down at her own shopping bag. It's a lot smaller than Brooke's. Inside it is a plaid scarf she picked out from the clearance area. It cost her about $50, a fortune considering she could have bought five shirts from Daffe's, a discount store.
"Did you have fun?" asks Brooke, looking over at Charlie. Charlie faces her, caught off guard by how pretty Brooke actually is. She's pale with sparkling dark eyes and red curls cascading beautifully down her face. Charlie tries to bite back her jealousy. Why couldn't she be that pretty? Why does she have to look like E.T. all the time?
"Yeah," answers Charlie. Truth be told, she thought that her and Brooke hanging out after school to talk about their plan to take Lorraine down would be awkward and intimidating. Maybe it's because she finds Brooke scary and cold. But in reality, she's actually quite nice. She'll never be Little Miss Sunshine, but she's certainly not an Ice Queen either.
Plus, she's a lot of fun to be with, Thinks Charlie internally. Its no wonder all the guys always invite her out to clubs and parties. She's loud without being annoying, funny without being cheesy and she knows how to have fun.
"You should have gotten more than that scarf," the red head rebel points out.
"I didn't really want to spend too much of Chuck and Blair's money," answers Charlie, stepping out of the elevator and into Blair's penthouse.
"Why not? Blair Waldorf can bring you more cache than Tyra Banks, and Chuck Bass has more billions than Trump." Charlie just shrugs, not wanting to discuss anything personal with Brooke. Even if Charlie is fond of her, it doesn't mean she's about to pour her heart out to a complete stranger. She isn't like that.
XoXo
*Charlie POV
I walk past the night doorman, turning to him and giving him a polite smile. He smiles back like he's been taught to. I reach to the back of my head and lift up the hood of my army green jacket, realizing that it is raining. I look back at the doorman, who's still watching me. I can tell he's wondering why I would be sneaking out of my biological mom's penthouse at 2:45AM. I shrug it off. It's none of his damn business.
After walking three blocks from the Waldorf apartment building, I feel myself begin to relax. Somehow, I find the darkness and the sound of the raindrops soothing. I look around at the big, privately owned, apartment buildings on the Upper East Side. Even from the outside I can already imagine large dining rooms with marble floors and Champagne colored walls.
I could almost laugh at the irony of it all. Two months ago I would have been nervous to even step foot on the Upper East Side, now I'm living here. In fact, two months ago I would have been living in a small apartment in the Bronx with eight other foster kids and two selfish, alcoholic foster parents. Now, I'm living on one of the wealthiest areas in the planet with parents who, despite their immaturity and slight irresponsibility, are actually quite loving. I guess that's life for you.
I think back to my date with Riley. I'm not sure why, but the idea of Riley and I going on a date is rather… Repulsive. It's not that I don't like him, I do. I just can't see him as someone I'd fall in love with. He's sweet and bright but he lacks depth and real emotion and complexity. A guy like Riley is only a few inches deep when you really think about it. A guy like him would read a story about a woman leaving her husband for another man and immediately assume that the woman is just a selfish whore. He'll never be the type to consider the fact that her husband could have been abusive or emotionally detached.
I understand why Brooke was surprised when I said that I wasn't all that into Riley Archibald. After all, how many guys can you find that are willing to bend over backwards (literally, once I ignored Riley because I was reading a book and he did a handstand) just to catch your eye? But he's not the one I want. He'll never be.
I look up, realizing that I have unknowingly walked ten blocks in the pouring rain. I look around, unable to see much in the rain and fog. I hear footsteps. I look directly in front of me for someone walking by. There is no one. I peek behind me, expecting someone. There is no one. The footsteps get louder and louder. I do an entire 360, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mystery person. I don't and I feel my entire body tense.
"Hey, what's a fine young lady like yourself doing out at this time?" I hear a mysterious slurred voice ask in the darkness. I take a step back, only for my back to collide with the ominous form. I hurriedly turn around and see the stranger. He's tall and muscular, I immediately notice. He laughs, seeing the fear in my eyes.
"Leave me alone," I manage to choke out, my voice hoarse and shaky. He laughs vindictively, shaking his head.
"You don't need to be scared," he replies simply, clearly amused. He caresses my wet cheek, sending chills down my spine.
"I'm not," I deny quickly, trying to walk back. He steps in front of me. I can feel his hot gaze on my face. I gulp, trying to find some sort of courage in me. I can't let myself fall victim to this drunken pervert. No, I've come a long way since then. I was eight back then. I was defenseless and easily manipulated. Back then, any man could have hurt me and abused me. Well, not anymore.
"Where are you going?" asks the frightening stranger, chuckling as I try to brush past him yet again.
"To my boyfriend's house," I lie through gritted teeth. I manage to send him a threatening glare, one similar to Blair's. He steps back a little before laughing. I can feel my entire body sweat and avoid the urge to just run. No, if I run he'll just run after me. I know the drill, I've been raped before. I know that men like him, sick men with no hint of humanity in them, take pleasure in the chase. If I stand my ground and appear to be strong, he might back down. The key word being 'might'.
"At this time at night?" he challenges, his eyebrows raised. He steps closer and his face comes into the street light. He's ugly, with dark, greasy black hair and large eyes that simply emit sadistic sociopath.
"Yes, that's his house right over there," I say pointing over to the apartment building right across the street.
(WARNING: BEGINNING OF RAPE SCENE)
"Now, if you'll excuse me," I say curtly, about to jay walk through the empty street when I feel his hand grab onto my wrist. He pulls me back in front of him before shoving me into a dark alley one building down. He shoves my back onto the brick wall and places both of his strong, forceful hands on my shoulders to hold me back.
"GET AWAY FROM ME!" I yell in distress, using my legs to try and kick any part of him that could render him pain. No, this can't be happening to me! Not again! I struggled under his tight grasp, about to yell again when he muffles my voice with his sour lips. They aggressively tackle mine and I feel my entire body struggled under him. I try to use my hands to pull him away but he just takes them and holds them back.
"Baby, don't try and struggle," he says in between kisses. I look up from my pool of tears and see him grinning ear-to-ear. He slides my jacket off easily and then manages to tear my shirt off. He pulls one of my bra straps down and starts sucking on my hardened nipple.
"HELP! ANYONE! PLEASE, STOP IT!" I yell. I do the only thing I can now, ask for help. I use all the strength I have left to try and fight him off. He steps back when I kick him in the stomach, grabbing onto his stomach in pain. I gasp in fear as he looks back up at me, and I try to make a run for it. I scream for help but nothing comes.
I don't realize that he's regained his strength until his arms wrap around my waist, grabbing it so hard that I shriek in absolute pain. He shoves me back against the wall. This time, instead of laughing he shoots me a glare. He tears my bra off my chest and I shiver at my entire chest being exposed.
"Shut up, you slut!" he hisses, pressing his chest against mine and sliding his hands towards my pants. I shriek again. No, this has to be a nightmare. It has to be. I'll wake up from this nightmare and be back in my bed, my hair a tangled mess and Dorota knocking on the door. Yes, that's it. This is a dream. A sick, cruel dream that's meant to remind me of my past. I convince myself that this entire thing is one big nightmare. That is, until I feel his hand on my cunt. Then I realize it's not a nightmare.
"NO, stop it! Let go of me!" I beg, feeling his fingers roaming around my clit.
"Don't pretend you're not enjoying this, baby," he whispers. I look at him, absolutely horrified. How dare he assume I would ever enjoy this?
"Stop it! J-just stop!" I beg again, kicking and screaming. This has to end now. He got what he wanted. He's degraded me in the worst way possible. He's made his point, I'm weak and he's strong. He's the predator and I'm the prey. He knows he can hurt me now, I can feel in from the way his mouth transforms into a smirk. Isn't that all he wants? To know he can break me? He's won, I've lost. Isn't that satisfying enough? To have taken all the progress I've made for the eight years and wound me all over again.
I feel him unbuckle his pants and I just shut my eyes now. This is it. There's no more fighting, no more hope. My entire body shakes in absolute horror. This is the end for me. This is what is going to become of my life. I'll be the girl who's been ridden by men for their pleasure. I'll be the girl who wasn't strong enough, wasn't smart enough to fight back. I'll be the girl that everyone else will pity but will secretly blame for her misfortunes.
(END OF RAPE SCENE)
Then, out of nowhere, his body drops on the floor. My eyes open and before I know it someone else is here. I rub my eyes, unable to recognize the person who just saved me. He gets on top of my rapist and punches him again and again until his entire face, now stricken with blood, turns unconscious. I feel my heart racing. I can still see his face, all dark and sinister. I shake my head.
The stranger turns to me and I immediately recognize who it is. It's Rhyze… Rhyze Archibald just saved me. He comes over to me and gently wraps me in his arms. He doesn't tell me I'm safe now. He doesn't tell me it will be okay. He knows he doesn't have to because, right now, as my bare body is pressed against his warm chest, I know I am. I'm safe now. I'm okay for now. He holds me in his arms, rocking my shaking body.
I realize, after ten minutes of silence, that my entire body is completely exposed to him. Instead of feeling self-conscious or humiliated, I feel nothing but grief over what had happened. He manages to soothe me without touching my body too much. Rhyze knows that's not what I need from him.
"I-I w-was so scared," I whimper, only for a fresh batch of tears to stream down from my eyes. He nods slowly, not saying a word. My body slowly begins to calm itself down. I look up at Rhyze's sympathetic face, backing away from him slightly. He peels off his wet trench coat and hands it to me, looking down at his feet. I take it, despite my hand shaking, and pull it over myself. The dryness of the insides of the coat welcomes me and I wrap it closer to my body.
Rhyze looks back up at me. He smiles. Not his usual cocky smirk, but a real smile. I can tell he's trying to be strong for me.
"Where does it hurt?" the blonde drenched in the rain asks. I don't really know, actually. I haven't even spared a glance at my body. I take a peak under Rhyze's coat only to realize that my waist was covered in dark purple bruises in the form of his hands. I also notice that my left breast is beginning to darken. There it is, physical evidence of the fact that I am forever damned to be nothing more than psychotic men's victim. Suddenly, I feel my heart quicken it's pace and then… Darkness
XoXo
Author's Note: Hey, sorry it took so long. School just started and I went of vacation and this chapter was pretty difficult to write. PLEASE REVIEW! Oh, and what did you guys think of the rape scene? It was my first one so please give me some feedback!