Marionette, n.
Pronunciation: Brit. /ˌmarɪəˈnɛt/, U.S. /ˈˌmɛriəˈˌnɛt/
Origin: A borrowing from French. Etymon: French marionette
1. a. A puppet with jointed limns, usually operated by strings.
First known use: a1645 W. Browne Britannina's Pastorals
b. figurative and in extended use: a person, institution, etc., who or which can be easily controlled or manipulated; a person with no self-willed, individuality, etc.
First known use 1863 'Oudia' Held in Bondage
Yelena remembered once being in New York as a little girl. Alexei had a Northern Institute Conference, Melina insisted they all went. She had stared in a shop window, bundled up in her winter clothes, staring at a blonde doll with piercing blue eyes in the window. There were strings attached to her hands and feet, able to bend at others will with each movement. Yelena did not care; she wanted that doll. She wanted to be that doll.
She had become that doll.
Yelena had become a marionette doll, a pretty girl attached to strings who did other's biddings. Who did not have to think for herself because every one of her actions were dictated by others. Nothing required mental effort. From a young age she was very aware that she was replaceable. Aware of who she was.
Or who she thought she was.
Freedom was hard to define by someone whose own freedom had not been freedom, but instead a clearly defined act. Yelena looked up the word once, one a mission. She had been in a library, flicking through pages while watching her mark. The word had shot out at her, consumed but not stuck.
Freedom, n.
Pronunciation: Brit /'fri:dəm/, U.S. /ˈfridəm/
Origin: A word inherited from Germanic. Etymons: Free adj., -dom suffix.
1. The state or fact of being free from servitude, constraint, inhibition, etc.; liberty.
a. Exemption or release from slavery or imprisonment
First known use OE Wærferð tr. Gregory Dialogues
b. figurative. Liberation from the bondage or dominating influence of sin, spiritual servitude, worldly ties, etc.
First known use OE Lord's Prayer I
When she had her own mind, she had learnt to crave it. Yelena had wanted to be able to do whatever she wanted to do. Wanted to have the freedom to choose. Wanted not to be the slave to a power-hungry society that preyed on the weak; a society that made girls into their weapons.
But what did she do with the freedom? Looking back, Yelena thought her first purchase was stupid. A vest from an army supply store may not have been the best thing ever. But at the time it had been hers, it had been the first thing that she did not have to share. Something that bridged her old world where utilitarian and useful were the best things clothing could be, and her new world where style was something she was allowed to have.
Yet even though everything in the store she went to was in the style she was used to, there was still an utter sense of overwhelmingness to it all. She did not know how to distinguish this at the time. The fact that the choice was now hers not dawning on her until after the fact. Until everything with the Red Room was over and done with.
Sometimes even after everything was done with, Yelena acted like it was all put in a box and tied together neatly with a bow. Pushed to the back of her mind. She listened to other girls cry at night. Their makeshift cabins and tents on the far end of Melina's property doing nothing to stifle the crying and screaming in the dark as the memory's nightmares filled their subconscious with the horror of all the acts they had committed. All the acts committed against them. They remembered the world they had just left, and the world they were now occupying. They were dead girls walking.
Yelena's dreams were dark. No sounds, no pictures, just a blank canvas. Really, after the initially feelings of it all died down, she felt nothing at all. She watched dispassionately as the other girls screamed and cried and laughed for the first time in years, face mechanically changing to fit the changing mood in the air. Watched as Alexei and Melina exchanged whispers of love in the dark, free to say what they wanted now that nobody was listening; felt none of the disgust she should have at this. Watched as Natasha freed her friends from their waterlogged prison, simply texting her poser instead of asking why she did not ask her help.
What was the world filled with if not emotions and choices?
None of which she ever had.
Even when she did.
Waves of anger would crash, causing her strength to rival Alexei's; going out and shooting guns at targets, punching trees until her fists came back bloody and bruised. Waves of sadness that made her whole-body curl in on itself, no tears coming but anguish heavy enough to dampen a flame. Happiness that would make her laugh so hard her stomach hurt, not caring about the questioning looks Melina would send her. All emotions came with a choice.
Freedom, n. Cont.
1. c. Exemption or release from the obligations of a contractual agreement; spec. release from a marriage, divorce.
First known use 1861 A. M. Maillard Loving & being Loved
Yelena had decided she was not fond of freedom. Did not like the choices she was given. She stopped going to the store with Melina by citing that the artificial lights gave her headaches when she was overwhelmed by the amount of pasta and cereal. She stopped going on walks with Alexei, overwhelmed by the sheer number of trails surrounding the compound. She stopped online shopping with Natasha, not wanting the headache and distant numbness that came with looking at all the different clothing.
The vest became a life jacket as she tried to stay afloat. Watching as the pieces of freedom that were gifted to the other widows be embraced like dead lovers. Slowly they trickled away, one after another, too many final goodbyes for Yelena to count.
She was not one of them, her puzzle piece never fitting in correctly.
The antidote became her focus, letting everything else blur into the background. But like everything else, that inevitably ends as well. Unable to continue without specific compounds, unable to go further until Melina had access to a better lab. The distraction dissolves.
The fear of freedom was brought back with nothing to focus her mind on. She tried to read books, understand the pop culture references she had missed out on. She tried to watch films, people in costumes pretending for a day to be someone else. Tried to watch vines but did not understand the concepts, did not understand the jokes.
Yelena flew away to try and feel. Glides above the sky to see how insignificant everything really is. Went back to America to watch her old house in the night, catalogues the changes that have taken places. Learns about the family who lives there now, the family they could have been. Goes to Disney Land and rides on roller coasters that can never be as scary as a man holding a knife to her throat. Eats foods filled with too much sugar and pukes it up later.
At night she lays on her side and stares at the wall.
Emotion, n.
Pronunciation: Brit. /ᵻˈməʊʃn/, U.S. /əˈmoʊʃ(ə)n/, /iˈmoʊʃ(ə)n/
Origins: of Multiple origins. Partly a borrowing from French. Partly a borrowing from Latin. Etymons: French emotion; Latin emotion-, emotio.
1. a. Political agitation, civil unrest; a public commotion or uprising. Obsolete.
First known use 1562 J. Shute in tr. A. Cambini in Two Comm. Turcks.
3. a. Originally: an agitation of mind; an excited mental state. Subsequently: any strong mental or instinctive feeling, as pleasure, grief, hope, fear, etc., deriving esp. from one's circumstances, mood, or relationship with others.
First known use 1602 T. Lodge tr. Josephus Wks.
When Yelena feels, her emotions are stronger than she knows how to deal with. She felt like a little girl again, everything too big for her body. A wave dragging her out to sea. Her whole body feeling it, from the tips of her hair down to her toes. Feelings bigger than the universe.
But when she is not feeling strong emotion, like her whole body is about to boil over at any moment, Yelena is numb. Numb like her circulation is being cut off to her heart. Numb to the world around her in a way that all the internet doctors say is unhealthy, yet still offer like candy. Do not feel like being emotional today? Try numbing yourself!
Yelena does not know anything but this. Does not know happiness without it being fully overwhelming but is able to put on a face to make others believe she is feeling it without repercussions. Because everyone in the world is either happy or miserable, and Yelena found the happy ones seemed to have it easier. The numb put on a happy face, because the numb were invisible. The numb hidden behind façades more intricate than the covers on books. More intricate than ancient art. More intricate than the Botox and skin lifts and fillers so-called celebrities had.
Filling bodies with chemicals to feel something.
She did not have that pleasure.
Smiles at the little girls and boys in the streets, feeling jealous of their twirling and care-free laughter. Sometimes Yelena could still remember a glimmer of that feeling. Twirling and crying out for her parents to watch her. The forest stars glowing above her head, magical and perfect for making wishes on: if she closed her eyes tight enough, they would come true. The joy when her father came home from work, the comfort of morning cuddles with her mother.
Yelena yearned to have it back. Yearned to have back the world that was once her own, the world she thought she would have forever. She dreams of herself as a child, believing that the happiness would never end. Thinking that those moments were simply one moment in a million of the same descending down upon the universe. Yelena wanted to scream at herself to keep the happiness she felt in those moments. But those moments, like all other moments, were erased from herself by an institution that called itself a room, built upon the blood of thousands of girls before her and hundreds after.
Trauma, n.
Pronunciation: Brit. /ˈtrɔːmə/, /ˈtraʊmə/, U.S. /ˈtrɔmə/, /ˈtrɑmə/
Etymology: Greek τραῦμα wound.
1. Pathology. A wound, or external bodily injury in general; also the condition caused by this; traumatism.
First known use 1684 tr. S. Blankaart Physical Dict.
2. a. Psychology and Psychiatry. A psychic injury, esp. one caused by emotional shock the memory of which is repressed and remains unhealed; an internal injury, esp. to the brain, which may result in a behavioural disorder of organic origin. Also, the state or condition so caused.
First known use 1894 W. James in Psychol. Rev.
Yelena argued with everyone who told her she was traumatised. She was not Antonia, blown up and wanting to die from the pain of it all, but being forced to live. Becoming a weapon of mass destruction by one of the people who were meant to love her the most. She was not Natasha, who blew up a child. Who became a hero to atone for the sins she was forced to commit, who fought aliens and monsters that no child could fully imagine. She was not Alexei, who got placed in jail for believing a manipulative man, for other's crimes. She was not Melina, forced into situations she could not comprehend. To become a mother and then have her children ripped away. To be a man's toy for her entire life.
She pushed down memories and emotions and scars until she became a shell. Walking and talking but not living. Yelena sat and watched as the others left, watched and ignored the concerned looks she was given but walking away when they tried to talk about them.
Yelena was not worthy of sympathy. She was a killer.
She liked being numb.
A walking shell for years, seen but not heard until she became a ghost for real. Until the ghost of Yelena Belova was not simply a myth but a reality. When her body turned to durst and flew away into the wind. Finally finding herself in the dark.
Her screams echoed around her when she woke up five years later. Her sister was gone, her world was gone. The years of suppression and numbness exploding like a volcano and taking down civilizations with it. She had curled into the ground, alone in a house in Ohio she had bought once ago on a mission to feel something, anything, even if it was crippling sadness.
Alone and caged in a world that spouted rhetoric's of community and freedom.
Emotions consumed her as numbness had before. Leaving her motionless on the ground with the ability to move, only sobs that shook her prone body, muscle movements leaving her screaming in pain.
The door opened at some point.
A body sat down beside her, watching.
A ghost of the past. A girl with blue hair looked at her with large green eyes that told her to come home.
Sometimes Yelena wished she was a marionette doll because life was so much simpler without pain.