On the Inside with Elizabeth Olsen

Olsen I

Look at where you came from
Look at you now

A/N: I know the song is Bezos I, but let's not do that. Okay? Also, this one is heavy y'all.

TW: Self Harm. Alcohol addiction.

Y/N POV

The ride to Olsen's feels like it's taking for-fucking-ever. I swear Mr. Bronson is taking every long way he can, but I know that's not true. When he picked me up, he could tell something was wrong. Over the course of the ride, I've sent Elizabeth a handful of texts. I know I'm being harsh, but I'm fucking pissed.

"When were you going to tell me?"

"How many more lies are you keeping from me?"

"Took a look at your wiki ENGAGED since 2019, huh?"

All messages still say DELIVERED.

Looking at her Wikipedia page was weird and only added more fuel to the fire inside me. A small part of my brain knows she must have her reasons, but I'm choosing to ignore it. Most things she told me about herself seem to be true. But why lie? She knows who the fuck she is. Granted, I guess when she picked me, she knew what a fucking dumbass I was.

When the car stops, I finally realize what my hands have been busy with. I look down at the cuts forming on my knees. It's a result of tick I do when I'm nervous/anxious/pissed off. I run my hands up and down my knees, digging into them—something I haven't done in half a year.

Mr. Bronson, like the quick man he is, opens the car door for me, helping me out. I watch him take a brief look at my knees. "I'll be waiting for your return, Y/N." I thank him and make my way to the building entrance. Thankfully no paparazzi are around, well, as far as I know. They snagged that picture of Elizabeth and me from the park, so who knows where those fuckers are.

I greet the doorman and go to walk in before being stopped. I look to the doorman stopping me. "I was just here. I'm a guest of Liz's- um, Ms. Olsen." I grit my teeth. The doorman looks me up and down. "I'm sorry, Miss, I believe you're mistaken." He begins to escort me backward without touching me.

"Really, we're doing this?" I spit out at this man. "Miss, please don't make this a bigger situation." I look up at this man. "Are you kidding me?"

"What seems to be the problem?" I turn around to see Mr. Bronson. The doorman explains how I was trying to trespass and refusing to leave the premises. Fucking prick. Mr. Bronson knows this dude is full of shit, but he pretends to listen to be polite. "Listen, I can assure you that Miss. Y/N is a respected guest of Ms. Olsen, and if you could kindly grab Mr. Madison, he can match my claim."

Mr. Bronson is MVP of the night tonight. When the doorman turns around to fetch Mr. Madison, I turn to Mr. Bronson to thank him, but he looks down at me and winks. "No problem, kid."

Mr. Madison returns without the other doorman. He opens the door, lets me in, and thanks, Mr. Bronson. "I apologize, Miss. Y/N for the trouble that has been caused to you tonight." Getting in the door isn't even my most significant issue tonight. "I'm just thankful you could help me out, Mr. Madsion." He nods, continuing to walk me to the elevator. Once I'm inside, he bids me goodnight.

Like the drive over, the elevator ride feels like it's taking its sweet time. Once the ride stops and the lift dings, I mentally prepare myself as best as I can. The doors open, and I step out into the same hallway I was in hours ago—each step to Elizabeth's door echos throughout my body.

And here I am outside her door.

I knock a couple of times and wait.

Liz POV
(earlier)