Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first time Blair thought about it; she was 15.

Things weren’t good.
Her parents were fighting, although not in the typical way. There was no screaming or throwing of plates, instead it was just silence and forced smiles.
Her best friend was barely around to talk to, and when she was, she was hungover or high so Blair could hardly say anything that would register.
Her boyfriend didn’t seem that interested in her. They had been together a while but it didn’t feel like he wanted to be with her.
She felt like everything was her fault but couldn’t make it better or control anything.
She just wanted it to stop.
She needed everything to stop.
But she didn’t want to be spoken about in a negative way, even if she wasn’t there anymore.
So, she ran the faucets in her bathroom, locked the doors, and stuck her fingers down her throat as she leant over the toilet bowl.
When she was done, she brushed her teeth, smoothed her hair, and plastered on a fake smile.
No-one would know that anything was wrong.

-

The first time Blair really considered it; she was 21.

She had woken up in a hospital, alone and terrified.
A nurse with tired eyes and a kind smile had told her that her baby was gone. She had said it with sympathy in her voice but that’s not what Blair wanted.
She wanted to be told that everything was okay.
She wanted to wake up in her own bed and for this to be a nightmare.
She didn’t want Serena to be here, holding her as she sobbed.
She wanted to be sitting across from her at brunch. Or to be walking arm in arm down Madison to buy even more things for her baby.
She wanted Chuck.
She was told that he hadn’t woken up since coming out of surgery.
This is fate, she thought. It’s what I deserve for every bad thing I’ve ever done. For wanting to leave Louis. For cheating on him with Chuck. For cheating on Nate with Chuck. For sticking my fingers down my throat for the first time all those years ago.
She was allowed to see Chuck for a few minutes but she could only last a few seconds before she was moving as quickly as she could through the hospital to the bathrooms.
She felt sick to her stomach but nothing would come up.
So, she did what she did best and stuck her fingers down her throat.
…

Blair didn’t know how long it had been but Chuck still wasn’t awake.
She was alone now.
And even more so than before since her baby was gone.
She wanted it to be over.
She wanted it to end.
She was in a hospital with so many drugs and sharp objects that she could easily end it.
She was staring at the scalpel across the room, almost like she was willing it to come to her, when the nurse came in.
Chuck Bass is awake and asking to see you, she told Blair.
Blair looked away from the scalpel and let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

-

The first time Blair tried; she was 25.

She thought that finally being with Chuck and being married to him would be great. That it was what she needed. That it would fix them.
But it didn’t.
It only made things worse.
It made him worse.
They had a baby, a boy named Henry, but that didn’t fix things either.
That made Blair worse.
Which then made Chuck worse.
She was just so tired.
Tired of the fighting. Of the not fighting. Of feeling like a single parent. Of feeling left behind, abandoned, unwanted, unloved, alone.
Blair just wanted it to stop.
She needed everything to stop.
And this time, doing what she (usually) does best wasn’t helping.
So, she made a plan. With Chuck on another continent for work, Serena in California, her parents in France, Nate in Connecticut, and Dan in Brooklyn, the upcoming weekend would be perfect.
No-one would be around and she could be alone.
Alone to finally do what she wanted to do all those years ago.
She had Dorota take Henry for the weekend, using the excuse that she had a lot of work to get done and she couldn’t do it with a toddler around, and got to work.
She did her usual night-time ritual, even though it was the middle of the day, of having a relaxing bath and doing her skincare routine, before putting on some beautiful and expensive nightwear then getting into bed.
This time, instead of a cup of chamomile tea to go with her nightly vitamins, she brought to bed a bottle of vodka and her sleeping pills.
She put on Roman Holiday to comfort her as she let the pills and alcohol glide down her throat.
It was easy. Peaceful.
She drifted off, listening to the words that she knew by heart.
…