Chapter 12

When she finally woke up late Sunday afternoon, the events of the gala hit her like a freight train. She could hear the smugness in his voice as his crude words replayed in her mind: Maybe, it was over the moment I had Blair writhing all over my cock in the back of my limo.

She'd thrown up again involuntarily when she thought about the look on his face as he bragged about fucking her like some common whore. She hadn't eaten in nearly 36 hours, but she refused to binge. She had battled bulimia her sophomore year whenever the scandal with her father's male lover had come to light, but she was stronger now. She'd be damned if she let some self-absorbed ass like Chuck Bass cause her to relapse.

Around five Sunday evening, Dorota came in with a tray of fruit and crackers, but Blair still didn't have much of an appetite. Dorota tried to return Blair's phone, but she asked her loyal maid to hold on to it for a while longer. "I can't face them yet, Dorota. The ridicule, the feigned sympathy, the snickers. I don't care what any of them have to say. As long as I have you, I have everything I need."

Dorota was growing increasingly worried. Blair had cut herself off from the entire world. She had only communicated with her mother briefly when she borrowed Dorota's flip phone to call her. "Yes, mother, everything is fine. No, Serena, was just being dramatic because we got into an argument." She was thankful that her mother was so gullible, probably because she was rarely involved in Blair's life besides to criticize her.

Serena had once told her that when life didn't go as planned, she acted like she was in a movie. Well, if that was true, she was currently starting in a box-office franchise.

She e-mailed her teachers late Sunday to let them know that she was feeling ill and would not be at school for a few days. Fortunately, her senior portfolio (with Chuck...sigh) had secured her an A in AP Lit and the rest of her classes were pretty much gimmees.

The entire following week was spent in the company of Audrey Hepburn, Jane Austen, and Dorota. She took three bubble baths a day, ate endless macaroons, and journaled about anything and everything, except him. She had not spoken his name in seven days. She resorted to snapping her wrist with a rubber band every time his name crossed her mind. Her number one goal was to erase his existence from her brain. During the day, she was almost successful. By the weekend, she had even offered Dorota several half-hearted smiles.

At night, though, her dreams betrayed her. At night, he came to her, and whispered sweet nothings in her ear, as he undressed her at an agonizingly slow pace. When he entered her, she would gasp and call his name with a sob.

She always woke up at the same point in the dream...or was it a nightmare? The memories would re-fuel her anguish each day, like a heartbreaking rendition of Groundhog's Day.

There would be no happy ending for her though. It was just endless pain. Day in and day out.

By the following Monday morning - a full eight days since the gala - she committed to return to school. She didn't want to see them, any of them, but finals week was upon them. She couldn't hide from real life any longer, no matter how much it hurt.

Looking in the mirror, she didn't recognize herself. She hadn't worn make-up since the gala, and it felt strange to swipe the foundation across her rosy cheeks. You are Blair Waldorf. The world doesn't tell you who you are; you tell them.

"Dorota, it's time. Give me my phone."

She opened it up, and the first two words saw were "Chuck" and "sorry." She quickly closed it and handed it back to the maid. "Do something with this. We will pick up a new one on the way to school. This one is tainted."

She would walk into Constance with her head held high and make Chuck Bass regret the day that he ever crossed her.

XOXO

Walking through the school doors slightly hung over, Serena collided with none other than Nate Archibald. He had tried to call her a few times, but she hit 'igonore' the moment his name flashed across the screen.

"Excuse me," she muttered and tried to quickly pick up her fallen belongings.

"Serena, I've been trying to get ahold of you." He pleaded, handing her a notebook.

"There's nothing to talk about, Nate. You aren't the person I thought you were."

"Serena, please. I tried to call off the bet. I didn't want Blair to get hurt. It was so stupid, and I really am sorry."

Serena sighed but digressed. "I'm so worried about her. She hasn't spoken to me since the gala."

"God, she must really be upset to shut you out. If you have a chance to talk to her, please let her know how sorry I really am. And Chuck…"

"Ugh. I will not be mentioning Chuck to her. At all. He's the reason this whole thing is happening. I tried to talk to him last week, and he just drowned his problems with liquor."

Nate grabbed her arm, and made her look him in the eye, "Serena, Chuck can be an ass 95% of the time, but what Gossip Girl posted was only half of the story. I think he has real feelings for Blair. I've never seen him like this, not even when…"

"Not even when what?"

"Never mind. It's not my place to tell. I'm just worried about him."

"He deserves whatever is coming to him." Serena said stubbornly. In her eyes, this entire mess was his fault.

"Maybe so, but I think the only person who deserves to make that decision is Blair. He at least needs to be able to explain his side."

"What's there to explain? He humiliated her in front of half of Manhattan. Blair's entire life revolves around her reputation, and he ruined it."

"God, you are so stubborn!" Nate huffed and walked toward the building. He stopped mid-stride and turned back to her. "Just think about what I said. If anyone can get Blair to talk to him, it's you."

XOXO

As Blair stepped onto the concrete sidewalk, she planted a bitchy smirk on her face and pulled her dark shades over her eyes. They could stare all they wanted, but she would not acknowledge their existence. A fallen queen is still royalty, after all. They could kiss her feet or her ass, but she would not cower before sheep.

Before first period she'd already sent two tips to Gossip Girl. One outlining Nathaniel Archibald's illicit affair with a married Duchess. She'd almost felt bad for including the part where he was basically being paid for sex by a former swimsuit model who'd been injected with too much botox when she realized that the affair must've stemmed from the failure on his father's part to secure a partnership with Waldorf Designs. If Nate hadn't tried to use her as a pawn, she may have willingingly helped the Archibalds land the Waldorf account, but no one wins when they bet against Blair Waldorf. No one.

The second blast described all of Carter Baizen's exploits, including his involvement in a secret gentleman's club, a jail stint in Santorini, and an illegal gambling ring to which he owed tens of thousands of dollars. She'd also uncovered thousands of dollars in other debts, including unpaid hotel tabs. Not only was Carter Baizen a piece of shit, he was a broke, pathetic, lying piece of shit.

Her final revenge would be her greatest accomplishment during her reign as queen. Chuck Bass's punishment had to fit the crime - a crime that no other student had even come close to matching. It was going to take some time. She was determined to ruin him. Like he ruined me.

"Blair Waldorf," came an unpleasant voice from behind her.

She ignored the sound and continued her path up the steps to Constance.

"Blair, wait."

She turned with an exaggerated huff, "What do you want, Georgina?"

"Just to supply you with the arrow that will pierce Chuck Bass straight through the heart."

Intrigued, Blair lowered her sunglasses, and looked Georgina up and down. She hated Georgina Sparks more than any other girl on the planet, but she knew one thing for certain. When it came to schemes and scandals, Georgina was second to none. "Go on."

"Did you ever wonder why Chuck was so reluctant to talk about boarding school? Or why Bart brought him back here in the first place? It's not like Daddy Dearest yearned for some father/son bonding."

"Get on with it," Blair snipped.

"Chuck Bass killed Damian Dalgaard."