Part 2:

"Blair," said the voice, he said it, he was the voice. Chuck Bass, I loved him, so, so much that I couldn't breathe. Right now I can't. His velvety voice caressed my ears, and still I couldn't see, or think.

"I LOVE YOU," I cried, and I passed out on the floor in the bathroom. "Please, please say it back," and I sobbed, and the tears wracked my body, and I cried and cried and screamed, but he didn't say anything. Chuck Bass said not a word.

"Blair, let's get you to bed," he said calmly. I raised my eyes to meet his, and he looked away from me, took my hand. I tore it away from him. I pounded my fists against his chest, and not in that way that girls hit a man's chest when they're having a fit. I wanted to hurt him. Because as much as I felt for him, bad for him, sad for him, he was killing me.

"Chuck Bass. CHUCK BASS. You are murdering me," I tried, I tried it again. I was begging him, couldn't he see. He said nothing again. I wanted to die. Die. Die. He grabbed my wrists, but didn't seem to know where to go from there.

"What were you doing B," he said quietly after awhile. "Why are you in the bathroom?"

"Why are you here at all Chuck Bass. I don't want you here. You're killing me. You're breaking my heart. Stop. STOP," I tried to sound firm, but how could I really when the ground was falling out from under me each and every moment. I wanted to be adored, but all I felt was extreme ardor which got me nowhere. Because just like everyone else, he couldn't express that I was worth something. Something more than what I felt, which was nothing. If felt nothing, I was nothing.

But if I started to let myself feel, as I was now, gazing into his eyes, begging, pleading, for him to say it, to say really anything which showed I could make him feel like he made me feel, then maybe, just maybe, I would be saved. And I could stop purging my body of the emptiness.

He just stared at me. And I gave up. I couldn't hold on anymore. Instead of falling, I was spinning.

"Chuck. I was throwing up. Because I'm bulemic. I love you. And if you kill me, I can kill you right back."

"No. Blair. I don't want to. But. You have to stop doing this to yourself."

"Stop it. Stop it. I love you. That's all I do. All I ever do is love you. And throw up. Because I'm fighting. Don't make me fight. Love me. Love me. Love me."

And he said nothing, he still said not a word. I passed out against his chest, exhausted.