Chapter 3
Yelena never quite learned what type of behavior she was supposed to exhibit after crying in someone’s arms. The Red Room never bothered to teach her that so when she managed to collect herself, the soft scent of rose water and peppermint surrounding her, Yelena wasn’t sure what the next step was.
Emily doesn’t move, her fingers idly stroking over Yelena’s head as she held her steady. Yelena had done absolutely nothing to earn such kindness but she greedily lapped it up like a starved animal.
It was like time stood still as nothing else mattered in the small dorm room, curtains drawn to hide the outside and alarm clock face down on the desk to avoid distraction while studying. Yelena felt so pathetically small and needy, a feeling she hadn’t associated with since she was just a little girl in Ohio.
“Are you still with me, Ellen?” Emily’s voice shattered the quiet that had settled, her fingers falling from Yelena’s hair, and Yelena doesn’t know whether she wanted them back or if she wanted to shove herself away.
But Emily asked her a question and Yelena waffled on whether or not to reply truthfully before settling on a small nod.
“Good.” Emily’s arms slowly pulled away and Yelena suddenly felt cold. She hadn’t realized how warm she could be until she was wrapped up in the scent of Emily. “Do you… wanna talk about it?”
“No.” Yelena could have been a bit kinder, her voice curt enough to make Emily wince. “I mean--”
“I get it. You don’t owe me anything,” Emily brushed the harshness off. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask but I don’t guarantee an answer.” Yelena remembered using the same quip with drunk men who would often proceed to ask her if she had ever been with a ‘real man’ and she’d stumble and giggle as she shook her head.
Emily instead looked down at her lap morosely. “Do you even like doing this?” When she saw Yelena’s confused expression, she elaborated, gesturing between them. “Hook-ups?”
Emily couldn’t have picked a more loaded question if she tried. Yelena couldn’t even begin to detangle the complicated mess of emotions that she mostly couldn’t identify so she settled with a small shrug.
“If you don’t like it then why do you do it?” Emily seemed to know when Yelena was holding back and it unsettled something inside of her to know that she was getting that easy to read.
Yelena figured that Ellen Lambert was going to have to disappear back home to the south for a family emergency to never be seen again after that night. She figured that there was no harm in putting a bit more truth into her answers. “I don’t know how to stop.”
Emily’s eyes widened slightly at the confession, leaning forward. “How to stop what?”
The old Yelena, the one tainted by the claws of the Red Room whispering poison into her ear would have known that she was shattering far too much. She should have disposed of Emily and moved on.
But Yelena wasn’t that old girl. Yelena was Ellen Lambert, and although it was just a cover, there was a little bit of Ellen Lambert in Yelena.
One of the things the Red Room taught her about going undercover was when crafting covers, bury a kernel of truth somewhere in there no matter how pointless or meaningless it was. Yelena put a bit more of herself into Ellen than she ever meant to.
“I don’t know,” Yelena gave Emily yet another shrug, an action that was starting to feel more exhausting than anything. She startled slightly when Emily’s hand covered her own, fingers with chipped blue nail polish lacing with hers. “I think I’m broken.”
The words fell out of Yelena’s mouth in a clumsy mess, laying there for Emily to see and witness her shame.
Emily’s lips pressed together in a thin line, her hand squeezing Yelena’s. “Can I be honest with you?”
Yelena’s heart dropped into her stomach and she just wanted all of the chaotic feelings to stop. She needed something to numb them out and quiet them down. She needed a drink. But Emily was leaning toward her, gripping her hand with nothing but honest concern in her eyes. Yelena nodded.
“I don’t think that there is such a thing as broken people. The belief that one is broken is often lined with something dark like shame. It makes you feel unworthy and disgusted with yourself, not because of what you may have done but because of who you are,” Emily said, her voice soft as her thumb brushed over the back of Yelena’s hand in comforting circles. “Shame burrows in you and teaches you to hide so instead of moving forward you run away. You don’t live, you just exist.”
Yelena doesn’t understand. Every word that left Emily’s lips resonated with her in a way that made her feel like her chest was cracked open and exposed, vulnerable to the world but visible only to Emily.
“And shame leeches into your behavior. You cope to numb and escape with whatever vice you have and that just creates more of those exhausting feelings.” Emily leaned forward, shifting to sit next to Yelena close enough to press their legs. “You can feel broken. But there is a difference between feeling and believing. Feelings pass.”
Emily lifted her free hand to caress the side of Yelena’s face, that same gentle touch that Yelena craved. “You can feel broken, Ellen. But you are not actually broken.”
Yelena doesn’t know how to react. Her mind was like sludge as she stared at the twenty-something-year-old college student. “How do I make it stop?” Yelena just wanted it to end.
“I don’t know what happened to hurt you so, Ellen,” Emily said, her thumb brushing against Yelena’s cheek. “But I think you have yet to actually process it.”
If Yelena thought that the girl she rescued from getting roofied would go on to witness a breakdown and offer advice, she might not have ever approached her at all. “I don’t know how to do that.”
Emily leaned back slightly as if she was finally looking at Yelena for the first time. “Man, they fucked you up good, huh?”
Yelena couldn’t help the startled laugh that left her mouth and Emily immediately blushed, mortified that she had actually said what she was thinking aloud.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Emily quickly tried to fix the situation. “I didn’t mean to say that.”
“Yeah, you did.” Yelena had forgotten what it felt like to laugh. “You’re not wrong either.”
Emily looked away for a moment to gather herself before peering back up at Yelena. “Can I ask you something else?”
Yelena figured that there was nothing else Emily could ask that would yank the carpet out from underneath her again but she was quickly proven wrong.
“Is this your vice? What you use to help you cope?” Emily’s fingers ran over where Yelena had started to unbutton her shirt. “Sex?”
“Among other things,” Yelena mumbled. She reached out and Emily’s hands dropped as Yelena slowly rebuttoned the shirt with much less fervor than when she was undoing it. She caught sight of the yellow-green bruises speckled along Emily’s collar that she had left behind the last time they tumbled into the dorm room.
“Alcohol?” Emily guessed, her fingers moving to tug the fabric back into place over her collar.
Yelena was far too focused on the fact that she left marks behind on some sweet girl’s skin. She had never stuck around long enough to witness what she left behind each time.
She knew somewhere inside of her that she must be leaving behind marks but the two pieces had never clicked in her head. She knew what morning-afters felt like, the bruises on her hips and ache between her legs, but never thought of how she was probably doing the exact same thing that was done to her.
“Ellen?” Emily’s soft voice broke through her thoughts. “Are you okay?”
Yelena realized that her fingers were still curled into the collar of Emily’s shirt, stopping her from closing it all the way. “Sorry.” She let go immediately, rubbing her hands on her jeans as the vague question of why she was still there floated through her head.
“Like the marks on me?” Emily teased, brushing her fingers over one of the nearly-healed bruises.
Yelena felt sick. She felt like she got out of the Red Room and was immediately abusing the power over her body. She was doing the exact same thing that was done to her to other girls.
“Ellen?” Emily repeated, her hands framing Yelena’s face.
Yelena jerked away from her, standing abruptly from the bed with the intent to go and leave her life as Ellen Lambert behind as she shed her cover to go be someone new.
“Ellen, what’s wrong?” Emily made an aborted move to grab at her but likely remembered how it ended last time. “You’re not going to stop hurting if you keep on running!”
Yelena hesitated with her hand wrapped around the doorknob. She wanted to stop the ache but how does she stop running when she’s been doing it all her life?
“Please, Ellen. I want to help you.” Emily’s voice was soft.
“Why?” Yelena asked harshly, gripping the doorknob hard. “You don’t even know me.”
“Because you don’t deserve it.” Emily stood and slowly approached Yelena. “Did you not like seeing your marks on me? Was that too much?”
Yelena’s nose wrinkled, disgusted with herself. “I hurt you.”
Emily blinked at her in surprise. “Are you talking about the hickeys?” At Yelena’s silence, she continued. “I don’t mind them. I kinda liked them. They felt nice.”
“They felt nice?” Yelena scoffed, wondering if Emily would be saying the same thing if she bit her, knowing how marks on the skin were a possessive sign of ownership.
“Yeah.” Emily scrutinized her. “Ellen, you didn’t do anything that I didn’t wanna do if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“You were drunk.” Yelena averted her eyes in shame. “I seduced you.”
“First off, we were both a little drunk and secondly, I didn’t say no,” Emily reminded her. “I like that you were a little rough with me and took charge but you were sweet and looked after me. That’s more than can be said about my other hook-ups.”
“Do you like having sex?” Yelena blurted before she could stop herself, bracing herself for an angry retort.
“Yes?” Emily sounded bewildered at the inquiry. “Do you-- Ellen, was I the one pushing you into things?”
“You didn’t make me do anything,” Yelena snapped, unable to help herself. She was the one in control of her body, she would never be made to do anything ever again.
“Okay.” Emily nodded her head. “Lemme rephrase that. Do you like having sex?” She turned Yelena’s own question back onto her.
Yelena pressed her lips together as she carefully thought over the question. She doesn’t exactly mind doing it with girls, they were always softer and gentler than men, but she hated receiving it. She hated being touched in those places. “I don’t know.” Things were confusing, Yelena doesn’t know what the right answer was.
“Did you… did you like what we did?” Emily rocked on her feet slightly, nervously shuffling and Yelena realized she still had a hand on the doorknob.
“Yeah…” Yelena replied.
“So you just like giving it? You keep your clothes on and never want me to return the favor,” Emily reached out when Yelena averted her eyes in shame. “That’s alright. As long as both people feel good then it doesn’t matter how you do it.”
“And if it doesn’t feel good?” Yelena scoffed, wincing as Emily set a delicate hand on her shoulder.
“Then you stop. Doesn’t matter if you’re in the middle of it or near the end,” Emily leaned closer. “You made me feel good, Ellen. And if you want to continue this thing we have because it helps you then I don’t mind that. But if you want to stop then just tell me and I will respect that.”
“I’ll just be using you,” Yelena shook her head.
“I’ll be using you too,” Emily pointed out. “Just… think about it.”
Emily leaned up to kiss Yelena’s cheek before she stepped back. Yelena watched her for a moment before she twisted the doorknob and was gone.
Yelena was a coward.
She had been so ready to cut ties and run, she had her bag packed and was just about to leave and burn any remains of Ellen Lambert but she just couldn’t do it. It was stupid but being Ellen, despite the inability to function without alcohol or stop herself from seducing girls, was nice.
Ellen got to go see small bands playing. She got to wear whatever she wanted. She got to do little odd jobs that led to people smiling at her like she was a good person. She moved boxes and furniture, she walked dogs, she drank her first frappuccino, and she stomped in a rain puddle like she was six years old all over again.
Ellen got to see Emily.
Emily scared her but there was something addicting about her that made Yelena unable to stay away.
Ellen Lambert returned to bars and when she caught sight of Emily, she couldn’t help herself.
Yelena let herself get a little drunker than usual and she ended up back in the same damned dorm room as Emily whimpered for her touch. Emily never mentioned their last conversation but she stopped trying to roll over to return the favor or slide her hands under Yelena’s clothes. Yelena craved the feeling of being tipsy enough to get that fuzzy edge around her as she made someone else feel good. Sex had never felt good to Yelena but Emily always chased her own high and would beg for more, nothing but honesty and want in her eyes.
The time came around when Emily was sober when they slept together. Yelena had lost count of how many times she had fallen into the same bed with the soft sheets that smelled like floral perfume. A sober Emily doesn’t quite get so lost in her own pleasure but rather kept checking in with Yelena. Their night was slow and not so rushed, and Yelena doesn’t wear Emily out quite as much.
Emily doesn’t fall asleep afterward and they just lay there in the bed as fingers with chipped nail polish lazily drew figures on Yelena’s abdomen.
Emily understood Yelena in a way that no one else did and that thought was frightening to Yelena. But she couldn’t help herself as she just kept coming back for more.
Yelena kept expecting to see some announcement about Captain America taking down the Red Room. She followed the news religiously and kept track of each time the Avengers were mentioned.
But time passed by and Yelena started to wonder if she made a major mistake and the thought crossed her mind that maybe Natasha just didn’t care. She was distancing herself from the past and leaving everything behind.
The thought of it made Yelena lose control of herself and she drank and drank until the longing for her sister faded and the world was black.
When she came around, the first thing she noticed was that she was definitely not at her safehouse or the bar. Light still filtered through a curtain hanging on the wall and Yelena was ready to dart away from wherever she was lying vulnerable when she noticed the faded band poster stuck to the wall.
“Oh, you’re awake.”
Yelena’s gaze shifted to the figure sitting at the desk in front of her, Emily turning away from her textbooks to look at her. “How are you feeling?”
“How did I get here?” Yelena tried to map out the series of events that had happened after she spiraled.
“I brought you here,” Emily said, closing her book as she twisted in her chair to look at her. “You were drunk as a skunk and could barely hold yourself upright.”
Yelena pressed her lips together, a sudden surge of shame flooding through her. “I’m sorry.”
“What happened?” Emily stood and approached the bed, taking a seat on the edge. She combed her fingers through Yelena’s hair, the touch nice.
“Nothing.” Yelena couldn’t help but close her eyes as she tried to chase after the feeling of being looked after just for once.
“Bullshit,” Emily said, her finger flicking Yelena’s forehead before it went back to stroking her hair. “You don’t just drink yourself into a blackout for no reason. Is this about your sister?”
Yelena jolted upright, fear surging through her. “How do you know about my sister?” She demanded, suddenly fearing whatever she said through lowered inhibitions.
“Just that she left you behind,” Emily placated, holding her hands up. “You were actually speaking in another language quite a lot. Russian, I think.”
Yelena’s heart dropped into her stomach. She would definitely have to get rid of Ellen Lambert. She had slipped up far too much.
“Hey, stay with me. Focus on me,” Emily yanked Yelena out of her head. “Whatever is going on in your life is none of my business unless you say so.”
“Forget it,” Yelena growled as she sat up more, ignoring the way her head pounded or the room swayed.
Emily leaned away from her a little. “Consider it forgotten.”
Yelena doesn’t want to think about her sister or having to shed the identity she had found comfort in. “Can I fuck you?”
Emily blinked at the statement, eyes growing wide. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea…” Emily shifted slightly. Yelena looked away in shame at her inability to control herself. Emily caved quickly. “Well, if you promise to stop if you need it…” Emily reached out. “I’m here for whatever you need.”
Yelena would pick apart that statement at another time, instead pushing Emily back on the bed and tugging at her shirt to fall into the same cycle, only this time stone-cold sober.
There came a point where following girls home doesn’t satisfy Yelena in the way that she needed. She ached for the taste of peppermint chapstick and the floral-scented sheets. She cringes at the taste of cheap beer and piercings and fingers that don’t clumsily grip onto her. The name Ellen became something that belonged to Emily, only for her to cry out, and as Yelena rolls down the list of fake names for one-night stands, none of them feel as bittersweet as Ellen.
Because Ellen was part of Yelena.
There came a point where she tumbled into Emily’s dorm room with her, fingers hooked into her shirt, only for no clothes to end up being shed. They end up in bed, clothes on under the sheets as Yelena wrapped around her.
“I don’t talk with a lot of people. It gets kinda lonely,” Emily admitted from her spot curled in front of Yelena. “I just needed somebody to hold me.”
Yelena couldn’t get upset at Emily for using her because Yelena used her up as well. Boundaries were getting toed, wires were getting crossed, and Yelena wasn’t quite sure what she would call Emily.
Emily was sweet and soft and everything that Yelena wasn’t but she was just as addicting as the rest.
Yelena wasn’t sure why she found herself outside of Emily’s dorm room on a bad night. It was far too early in the morning, Emily hadn’t even been out drinking the night before, but Yelena needed something and the thought of getting blackout drunk after her nightmare of chemical subjugation was far too much.
Emily peered up at her in sleepy confusion when she answered the door after Yelena got the courage to knock. “Is everything okay, Ellen?”
“I need a distraction,” Yelena admitted and Emily yawned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before she stepped aside to let Yelena in.
The pool of shame in her belly settled next to the feelings of disgust for waking someone up just because she couldn’t handle herself. Emily’s fingers curled into her hair, her body warm from being tucked under her covers, and Yelena let herself get lost in the scent of rose water and peppermint.
Yelena goes until Emily stopped her. “I just can’t give you anymore--” Emily confessed, trying to catch her breath. “I’m sorry.”
The pit of shame grew and Yelena reached up to press the heel of her palm into her eye in frustration. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”
Emily’s fingers latched around her wrist. “If you’re going to wake me up for this then the least you could do is stay.” Emily peered up at her, pupils blown from the rush of endorphins.
Yelena pressed her lips together but nodded her head and she stayed the night.
“I tried to sleep with another girl,” Emily mentioned, eyes half-lidded as Yelena smoothed the hair back out of her sweaty face while she soaked in her post-coital bliss. “It was really kinda bad. I couldn’t get off. Are all girls that bad or are you just that good?”
“I’m just that good,” Yelena smirked at Emily. “Lots of practice.”
Emily laughed. “You must have been doing it for a long time. I don’t think I lost my virginity until I was nineteen. Not much practice.” Emily glanced over at Yelena. “Of course, my first time with a girl was with you.”
Yelena stared down at Emily before averting her eyes and peering up at the ceiling. “Yeah. Long time.”
“You a ladies girl in high school?” Emily ribbed, rolling over to snuggle closer into Yelena.
The thought never once crossed Yelena’s mind about what the appropriate age to lose one’s virginity was. “Something like that,” she muttered, focusing on how Emily pressed her cheek against her chest. She took a deep breath, watching the way that Emily’s head rose and fell with the action. “I was thirteen.”
Yelena’s poorly judged answer was apparently wrong because Emily suddenly sat up slightly, peering down at her with concern. “What?”
Yelena immediately looked away, unable to sit up with Emily’s weight still on her.
“I…” Emily swallowed hard, lost for words. “That-- shit, Ellen. You… you know that wasn’t right, don’t you?”
Some part of Yelena did know that it wasn’t right. Muffled whimpers of young girls, quiet pleas to just stop, the ‘contraband checks’ the guards would perform, all of it just excuses to fill a dark carnal urge. “Yeah.”
Ellen pressed her lips together in displeasure before she slowly lowered her head back to settle in the crook of Yelena’s neck. “I hope whoever they were is gone from your life.”
“Yeah,” Yelena whispered. “They’re gone.”
“Good.” Ellen took a deep breath before releasing it with a sigh.”Can I ask you something?”
“Course.” Yelena knew that Emily never expected an answer to a question Yelena wasn’t capable of answering.
“Is… losing your virginity at that age… is that how it started and why you can’t stop?” Emily mumbled the question into Yelena’s shoulder.
“I don’t know, I’m not a fucking shrink,” Yelena replied a little harsher than she meant to.
“Right, right, sorry,” Emily said softly. “Thanks for telling me, Ellen.”
Yelena let out a small noise of acknowledgment. The room was bathed in silence once again and Yelena focused on the feeling of Emily’s breath on her collar.
There was something so soft and gentle about the way Emily handled Yelena that made her want to spill her guts, to do the very thing she was taught to avoid.
“I don’t like sex.” Yelena’s sudden statement caught Emily’s attention but she stayed quiet, letting her continue. “You do.”
“I do,” Emily agreed quietly. “Especially with you.”
Yelena swallowed hard, taking another deep breath. “It never felt good. I don’t like it. You do. You like receiving it.” She closed her eyes. “It makes you feel good… right?”
“Right,” Emily confirmed, her hand coming up to rest against Yelena’s jaw. “You make me feel good.”
“Good…” Yelena wondered if Emily could hear her heart pounding in her chest. “Would you tell me if I didn’t?”
“Of course,” Emily doesn’t hesitate to reply. “Would you do the same to me?”
“Yeah.” The lie tasted like ash. Yelena wanted a drink.
She craved strawberry daiquiris.
“Have you ever been to a gay bar?”
Yelena hadn’t been expecting that question. “A what bar?” She turned to look at where Emily was sitting next to her at the bar, the woman playing with the paper umbrella in her pina colada.
“A gay bar,” Emily repeated, taking a sip of her drink. “My friend told me about it.”
Yelena squinted at her, pulling her cosmopolitan up to her lips to take a sip. “I have never heard of such a thing.”
Emily let out a hum, leaning against Yelena. “Would you be interested in going to one with me?”
Yelena observed the girl next to her for a moment, swallowing down the reply that she would follow Emily anywhere she asked. Yelena had nothing to tether her to Washington. She was Ellen Lambert but Ellen belonged to Emily, the only tie she had. “Sure.”
Emily grinned up at her, leaning close enough that Yelena could smell the coconut on her breath. “You’re the best, Ellen.”
The words settled in Yelena’s belly, warmth pooling through her as Emily grinned at her.
Yelena knew that the longer she put it off, the harder it would be to shed the identity of Ellen. She should have dropped everything and fled long ago. But she just couldn’t. She doesn’t know what else to do with herself.
She was drowning in alcohol, unable to sleep peacefully at night as ghosts of her past haunted her. She couldn’t handle her feelings so she kept that familiar buzzing feeling of fuzzy numbness to blunt the edges.
Drowning with someone else was easier than drowning by herself. And Yelena, her needy self, was clinging to Emily like a leech, poisoning her slowly because all she was ever made to do was destroy.
She couldn’t stop herself, stuck in that same cycle of self-destruction because it was all she knew how to do.
Yelena swallowed down the rest of her cosmopolitan in one long sip before setting the glass down and ordering another.
And another.