Pictures in magazines, movie screens
Mirrors and cameras, so many beauty queens
It's so good to be
Fabulous and glamourous,
We love ourselves and no one else
Vanity
The fall had come so fast. Leaves that were once green and pulsing with a desperate vigour of life were browning and dead, defeated in the cool winds of Autumn.
The world outside meant nothing to him, the world in his hotel room meant nothing to him.
Chuck sat alone in his room, staring emptily out of his Palace window.
"The only thing holding me here is you," he murmured to himself, gazing at the picture message on his Blackberry; Blair sitting on a bench in Central Park surrounded by the five girls that she commanded. She wore a pretty smile on her face, a rarity, but it did not reach her empty, blossomless eyes. The sharp lines of her cheekbones shone through her skin, her once golden tan fading into the perfect alabaster it had once been. The hair that had been straight and streaked with sunshine was now dark and perfectly curled, and a headband held it in place. The black painted fingernails had gone, replaced with a $200 manicure from the new place on Sixth. Gone was the leather and the edge, the exposure of skin. She wore high-knecked dresses and tights now, the simple beauty of her skin seemed to be long forgotten. Blair was back to 'normal', to how she had been viewed before her mother's suicide.
In the picture-message, Blair's rosy lips wore an empty smile. All Chuck saw was tragedy.
Even the tallest tree is stripped of power in the grip of winter's chill.
When the first snowflake fell, Blair was alone in her mother's old room. She sat by her window, book in hand. As she watched the tiny white crystal fall, a single tear rolled down her cheek.
Who had she become?
Her mother's death had been a tragedy, there was no doubt about that, but Blair had been freed from the oppression and viligance of the UES because of it. She had truly forgotten how tiring it could be trying to keep everybody happy.
She had experienced the freedom of West Coast life. She had been a happy nobody. A rich nobody, but a happy nobody. The UES brought out the best and worst in her. It delivered her with confidence, grace, opportunity, but with it came fear, angst, depression, turmoil and the need to be absolutely impeccable at all times. Public opinion controlled her life. Bulimia gripped her tiny body in a vice, whispering to her that the only way to be happy was to throw up. The only way to stay in control.
She had grown used to the voice inside her, become resigned to do it's every bidding. The voice inside that told her once more spoonful of low calorie yoghurt couldn't hurt, right? The voice that convinced her to order the chocolate cake at lunch with the girls. The voice that told her it would be absolutely fine if she had just one more bite of gateau at a social party.
The voice that made her feel fat and heavy. The voice that persuaded her to run just one more mile every day, just five more minutes of ruthless excersize. The voice that told her she was pathetic, useless, out of control. The voice that repeated over and over again that she was not and never would be good enough. The voice that blamed her imperfections for her mother's death.
Dorota knew, of course she did. If she didn't hear the steady rush of vomit from Blair's private bathroom after each and every meal, she could see it in the lines of Blair's cheeks, the sickly paleness of her skin, the padding Blair now needed in her bras.
Blair knew this, she knew the dangers, she knew exactly what she was doing to her body every single time she pushed her slender fingers down her throat.
But the voice inside whispered "just once more". Blair was a slave to the only true companion she had.
She was acing school. Her social life was incredible, as long as Blair gave the impression of being a chaste, respectable young lady who simply had the best interests of her classmates at heart, all the while plotting each and every single one of their downfalls because she had nothing else to do. Her love life was non-existent. She didn't want a one night stand with a useless nobody, and she especially didn't want a relationship with anybody who wasn't him, and he didn't want her.
Besides, no red-blooded male would want her. The bones of her ribs jutted dangerously from her cavity of her chest. Her hips were sharp. Her breasts were flat. Her hair was thin, dull and lifeless. And yet she recieved false compliment after false compliment on her weight loss, all the time avoiding the three people she could never hide from.
Serena, unsurprisingly, had lost interest in school life. She became a social nobody. The party girl was gone. Blair's transformation had transformed everyone.
The blonde withdrew into herself. She could see the frailty of her best friend, could see her vulnerability, her emptiness. As a best friend often can, she saw through Blair's fake smiles and $50 shampoo.
She knew that there was nothing that she could do.
Chuck, as usual, was M.I.A, as he often was when a loved one went into meltdown and he couldn't bring himself to deal with it.
Lily was having an extremely conspicuous affair with Bart's secretary.
Nate was failing school and spent most of his spare time with personal tutors, desperately clinging to his hope of USC.
Eric had a new boyfriend.
Blair was lost. Serena had only herself.
Not all change is good.
"I thought you'd be here."
Blair froze, her hand hanging akwardly midway to the laxative shelf in a small pharmacy she used regulary in the Lower East Side. She took a deep breath, wincing at the sharp pang of hunger in her stomach and turned to her addressor. She refused to meet the stern eyes of the blonde and stared at Serena's pretty red earrings hanging daintily below her delicate ears.
"It's not what you think..." She began, fidgeting and biting her lip anxiously.
Serena scoffed. "Of course it's what I think. I've been watching you come here every Tuesday afternoon for the past month and every single time you buy the same thing; two bottles of Vitamin water, mints and those," she indicated towards the shelf. "Why didn't you come to me Blair?"
Blair finally met Serena's eyes and something inside her tiny body snapped. "Why didn't I come to you? What a question to ask! You've been completely M.I.A for the past two months. I've called you at least six times. Kati and Iz have called you twice as many times as I have. Even Penelope called you. Have you forgotten how to pick up a phone?" She spat sarcastically. "Maybe you and Nate should switch places, maybe it's really you who needs the tutors!"
The blonde looked defeated. "I'm sorry, B. I've had so much stuff going on.. I never even thought-"
"Exactly, Serena, you never even thought. Why should you? I'm Blair f-ing Waldorf, strong, bitchy, f-ing perfect. I'm the girl everybody wants to be. Perfect grades, top of the social ladder, I've just inherited a fortune, need I go on? Nobody ever thinks about how I'm doing. And if they do think, they don't bother to ask because they're too scared of their leader being weak. Well screw all of you, I have my way of dealing with things and if you don't f-ing like it then you know exactly what you can do!"
Serena put a hand on Blair's upper arm and squeezed. Her eyebrows rose. "What do you weigh, Blair?" she asked softly, concern forming in her innocent blue eyes.
Blair sniffed and shrugged, brushing off the enquiry as if it was irrelevant. "I'm a little busy. Would you excuse me? Thanks."
"No, I won't excuse you. You're sick! You're sick and you're scared and you need me, whether you're going to admit it or not. Now we can either go back to your apartment and you can call Dr Sherman, or I'll call Chuck right now and he can tie your hands together and force feed you cheeseburgers until you're 200 pounds. It's your decision."
Blair paled. "You wouldn't tell him."
Serena folded her arms. "I would. I miss you, B. And I know you miss me too." Blair smiled a small admittant smile, and the blonde went on. "Social hierarchy ain't got nothin' on Serena Vee Dee girlfriend!" The two giggled together, and for a moment, Blair forgot her troubles. It was a nice feeling, to forget her troubles.
"Fine. But, you have to swear you won't tell your Mom, or Eric, or even Nate. I can't handle them knowing this." I can't handle Chuck knowing this. It would kill him. I can handle hurting myself, I could never really hurt him.
Serena lead Blair calmly from the pharmacy, stealing a quick, dangerous glance at the pregnancy tests behind the counter.
(I had to update, it's short, I know, but I was inspired after like 9 months and just had to write before I lost the urge. I plan on updating every Friday night from now on if exams and homework allow. I have six more chapters planned and then an epilogue, so please bare with me! It's so good to be back!)