The Downfall Of The Darling

Blair stood in front of the mirror, her heart racing with excitement. Today was the day of the awaited competition, and she could barely contain her enthusiasm. She brushed her fingers through her hair, her gaze landing on the freshly cut bangs framing her pretty face. Some strands hung longer than others, a cruel reminder of her late-night hair transformation.

The candle she had burned at both ends, literally and figuratively, flickered dangerously as her marathon study session stretched on. When a sudden power outage plunged the room into darkness, she lit a candle and refocused on her composition. While focused on her work, she didn’t notice her hair getting too close to the flame. By the time she realized, she had accidentally created uneven bangs that looked funny and cute.

Blair’s pulse quickened as she entered the auditorium, her eyes scanning the room filled with eager participants from different universities. They were all gearing up to deliver their contemporary speeches focused on tackling health disparities and advocating for health equity. The projector displayed the slogan, “Bridging the Gaps: Demolishing Health Disparities for True Equity,” highlighting the day’s mission’s significance.

The competition would determine not just who had the best proposal, but who could truly advocate for those facing barriers in the healthcare system.

She was ready to step into the spotlight, bangs and all, prepared to win a cause she believed in deeply when she spotted her grandfather seated as the guest of honor beside the school president, talking with Ezra Taylor. Blair felt a complicated swirl of emotions beyond just anxiety.

Blair took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. The presence of the significant people who still haunted her with painful memories made the stakes feel even higher. This competition was no longer just about winning, it was about proving to them, and to herself, that she could stand on her own, without the crutch of her family’s legacy or privilege.

Finally, her name was called.

As she stepped up to the podium, the bright lights perfectly showcased her uneven bangs—her own accidental late-night haircut special. Spencer, seated in the front row, caught sight of her and couldn’t help but let out a snort of laughter.

“Good afternoon, everyone. Before I dive into my speech, I’d like to pose a question: how many of you have taken a moment to check the current status of health disparities today?”

A hint of a smile danced on her lips, but there was an underlying seriousness in her gaze. Blair glanced toward her grandfather, his face remained impassive, but Ezra leaned forward slightly, his gaze focused, as if her words had finally cut through the noise.

“Today, I want to share a story about a princess living in a cozy castle, where resources paved the way for her every need. If she needed anything, a doctor’s appointment, a prescription, or even a band-aid for a scraped knee, it was just a matter of snapping her fingers.”

As she spoke, a playful grin spread across her face, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She tilted her head slightly, the uneven bangs framing her forehead, adding a touch of whimsy to her expression.

“And healthcare was as easy to access as ordering pizza with a single call.” She raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly forward. “You know, when your biggest worry is only whether to have extra cheese on your Hawaiian pizza or to debate the merits of pineapple on it, not whether you can afford a doctor’s visit!”

“But imagine this: life flipped the script on that princess. After being kicked out by her wicked stepmother, fast-forward to today, and she’s living in a haunted apartment, surrounded by creaky floors and the occasional ghostly whisper. The only thing demanding more than her feline is the electricity bill! Now, she finds rationing her resources like a contestant on a reality survival show.”

“In the past few months, she had made more trips to the hospital than she ever thought possible. Food poisoning, chronic pain, and sleeping disorders became her unwelcome companions. Each time she entered the ER, a familiar dread washed over her, especially when a doctor casually handed her an off-brand prescription with questionable ingredients, fully aware that she couldn’t afford the expensive option.”

Blair took a breath, her voice growing more intense.

“Her anxiety grew with each visit, as she feared they would tell her again she wasn’t sick enough for a hospital stay or that her illness could be fine with a few over-the-counter pills as if the ache in her stomach were merely a nuisance. As her credit card balance decreases, the weight of these disparities pressed down harder, the realization that her access to care hinged on her financial situation hitting her like a punch to the gut.”

Her voice grew stronger with each word.

“Health equity isn’t just a mere concept; it’s a lifeline. Achieving health equity and addressing disparities requires a various approach such as…”

The audience seemed engaged, and she could see heads nodding in agreement as she spoke passionately more about her advocacy and platform.

Blair swallowed, pushing down the anxiety that threatened to surface. She concluded her speech, “Health equity represents a commitment to tackling the integral and structural barriers that sustain health disparities. By understanding the differences between health equity and equality, we can create a more just healthcare system for all.”

A soft murmur spread through the audience, and then, applause. Blair stepped back from the podium and hurriedly excused herself, racing to the washroom just in time.

She barely made it to the sink before her stomach heaved violently. As she knelt there, the echoes of applause still ringing in her ears, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of the moment crash down on her. All the adrenaline from her speech spiraled into nausea.

…

The atmosphere in the auditorium buzzed with anticipation as the judges prepared to announce the winner. But when the name “Blair Wilson” was called as the champion, the room fell into an uneasy silence. She was nowhere to be seen.

The host repeated her name a few times, scanning the crowd for any sign of her, but Blair never appeared. After a brief, tense pause, the organizers—bound by competition rules that required the winner to be present for the award—had no choice but to turn to the runner-up. As they announced the name of the second-place contestant, the room filled with applause and murmured disappointment. The triumph felt hollow, Blair’s unexplained absence casting a shadow over the moment.

Kennedy Wilson’s face remained unreadable as the event came to a close, the applause for the runner-up fading into the background. His sharp amber eyes never left the stage where his granddaughter should have been standing. There was no outward sign of anger or concern, just a steady, piercing gaze that gave nothing away.

Some in the audience glanced at him, curious about his reaction, but Kennedy sat unmoving, his expression locked in an ambiguous calm. Was he disappointed? Furious? Or perhaps he didn’t care at all? Even those who knew him best couldn’t tell if the tightness in his jaw was from suppressed irritation or just the natural stoicism of a man used to controlling his emotions.

As the crowd was leaving the auditorium, Kennedy slowly stood, gave a brief nod to the school president, and walked out without saying a word, leaving everyone guessing what was really going through his mind.

Ezra returned to the now empty auditorium, his shirt damp with sweat, scanning every corner with a sharp, quiet intensity. He paused near the stage, eyes narrowing at the empty chair Blair should’ve occupied. His jaw tightened, keeping his expression unreadable.

Ezra stayed silent, his thoughts a mystery. Was he worried or just frustrated? No one could tell.

As the cleaners moved methodically through the rows of empty chairs, Spencer burst into the auditorium, slightly out of breath. Running had mussed his hair, and he looked around like a man on a mission.

“Hey, excuse me!” he called out to a custodial staff sweeping near the stage. “Did you see a woman with... uh... funny bangs? Like, really uneven? Kind of like someone tried to cut them with a butter knife?”

The cleaner paused in confusion. “Funny bangs?”

“Yeah, you know,” Spencer gestured wildly around his forehead, mimicking Blair’s uneven bangs. “Like a bad haircut, but somehow she pulls it off? Cute, but also kind of tragic?”

The cleaner shook his head slowly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Sorry, mate.”

Spencer sighed, muttering under his breath. “Great. She probably saw herself in a mirror and went into hiding. Can’t say I blame her!”

As Spencer turned to leave, his eyes suddenly locked with Ezra’s across the room. The two exchanged a brief, charged stare, Spencer, with his usual laid-back air but a hint of confusion, and Ezra, looking like he was ready to tear him apart with just a glare.

Spencer blinked, a little thrown off by the intensity of the moment. What did I do? He thought. He raised a brow, giving a casual shrug as if to say, Why are you looking at me like that?

Ezra’s gaze didn’t waver, his expression too calm—calm in a dangerous kind. Something flickered in Ezra’s eyes, and Spencer couldn’t decide if it was frustration, suspicion, or the urge to lunge across the room.