Serve and Protect

Chapter 41

Catra had hoped that Castaspella was just being dramatic about how hard withdrawal would be.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Not even a little bit.

The first couple of days were the worst. When she wasn't sweating through rolling waves of body pain and searing headaches, Catra was desperately willing her stomach to settle. She had never thrown up this much in her life, including the time she and Adora came down with a wicked case of food poisoning after dumpster diving as kids. With every violent, heaving purge, Catra wondered if her body was trying to expel more than just her stomach contents; maybe it was trying to get rid of every rotten thing that made her who she was. She was too tainted, too ruined to keep going as she was now. If she wanted to survive, she would need to start from scratch.

There were precious few moments of clarity in those early days, and the ones she had were fleeting. A part of Catra's brain still refused to believe that Adora was really there, let alone pressing tender kisses to her lips, and she certainly didn't have the mental acuity to consider what any of it meant. Not that it mattered; Catra's mood swings were so vicious and volatile that she wouldn't have been surprised if Adora left again, this time for good. Sometimes Catra cried, reaching for Adora with pitiful and unabashed need. But other times, when the pain and frustration and cravings were at their worst, Catra was awful — even by her own standards.

"I hate you!" she shrieked when Adora refused to let her leave the room. "You think you're so fucking special, don't you? I don't need your help!"

Adora took a deep breath, steeling herself against the vitriol. "Catra, you're still sick."

"I wouldn't be sick if I had a bit of Runestone," Catra replied, pacing the floor like a wild animal forced into captivity. "I should be weaning off of it, not quitting cold turkey."

"Too bad," Adora said. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the door like the prison guard she had become. "Doctor's orders."

Catra sneered. "You're such a fucking narc. Fuck the doctor and fuck you too." She flailed and swore until the exertion made her stomach turn and she was forced to dash for the ensuite bathroom to vomit.

You deserve this, she thought miserably as she curled over the toilet bowl. This is what you get for being such a shitty person.

But whether Catra was getting what she deserved or not, Adora still didn't leave her side. As Catra's stomach heaved, she heard the soft padding of bare feet across the bathroom tile. Hands gathered her unruly hair and held it back. The feeling of cool air on the back of her neck was one of the few pleasures Catra had these days.

When she was finished, Catra sat back, weak and shivering. She took the wad of toilet paper Adora offered and used it to wipe her mouth.

"I hate this," she whined, fighting the urge to cry for the millionth time. She wasn't sure she could spare the moisture at this point. As if she could read Catra's mind, Adora filled a glass at the sick and passed it to her.

"I know," Adora said as she settled down beside her on the cool tiled floor. "But it won't be like this forever, right?"

Catra closed her eyes. No, it wouldn't be forever. But would the life that waited for her on the other side of this nightmare be much better? She had barely been lucid enough to think about how she was going to explain all of this to Prime; the police raid, the hack, the overdose, all of it.

"I think I would have been better off if Scorpia had just let the Runestone kill me," Catra thought.

Or, at least she meant to think it. But judging by the horrified look on Adora's face, she may have said the quiet part out loud.