"No!" Catra wailed slamming her first on the circle of blue shimmering powder on the oxidated cell floor.
Of course Shadow Weaver played her! That's what she always did. All Catra ever wanted from her was her approval, her trust, and time and time again, Shadow Weaver chose Adora, chose Hordak, chose power. Catra knew why she vied for power, that was the only way-the only way to be safe, the only way to be respected. If Catra had power than it didn't matter who left her.
Catra let herself be played by Shadow Weaver, and that was the last time. Angry tears poured from her mismatched eyes. She would never let anyone play her like that again!
Insolent child, Shadow Weaver's voice rang in her head. You think you can purge yourself of me?
"You're in my head!" Catra cried at the ceiling.
An idiot knew that wasn't really Shadow Weaver. Even to torment her, Shadow Weaver would never chose to stay with her if she had an out. Catra wasn't worth the trouble of tormenting with her precious Adora gone!
Oh, for the love of- She missed Adora so much. She hated Adora. Hated her for always playing the hero, for being the bright, warm light that blinded everyone else to Catra's very existence. Catra's life was miserable because of Adora! So, why did she miss her so much? When they were girls, Catra might have had-no, that wasn't it. Adora, Shadow Weaver, all they ever did was treat her like dirt and leave!
But that's not true with Adora, is it? No, no. Adora-Catra had her stolen moments of childhood, of warmth with Adora. Her only friend, her only-It doesn't matter she left! Everyone leaves!
Catra picked herself off the floor and wiped her eyes on the back of her hands. She was done with all of this. She would replace Shadow Weaver, ingratiate herself to Hordak and defeat those stupid princesses! Adora and her new friends weren't going to win.
She stood straight as she walked down the corridor, her face purposely impassible. If she ever saw Shadow Weaver again, she swore she'd-
Catra collided into a thick, solid torso and felt a familiar pair muscular arms ended in chitinous claws. Catra writhed her body out of Scorpia's suffocating embrace.
"What do you want, Scorpia?" she snarled.
"Catra!" Scorpia smiled.
Smiled. It was so warm and inviting, Catra had to hold it suspect. No one was that nice.
"I just-erm-" she chuckled, her pale cheeks flushing a brilliant rose as she pushed back her short white hair. "You look-erm-I-" Scorpia thrust a gawdy trinket in Catra's face.
Catra examined the bracelet, it was baby blue-like Adora's eyes-with sparkly beads entwined in braided floss. She scowled in disgust.
"Kyle said blue was your favourite colour," Scorpia's blush turned furious. "It was hard, what with the claws and all and-okay, okay! I didn't make it! I had Rojelio do it. You know, that guy is surprisingly talented despite the, you know, lizard hands."
"Scorpia," Catra said through gritted teeth.
"Anyway," Scropia's black eyes twinkled in the flickering green light. "I know you've been really stressed out so Entrapta and I thought we'd make best friend trio bracelets!" She thrust her wrist adorned with an identical bracelet in Catra's face.
"For the love of-" she growled. "You and Entrapta should be making robots to attack Brightmoon not freaking friendship bracelets!"
The excited twinkle vanished and Scorpia's face fell. She looked so pathetic just then. So...did Catra feel sorry for her? Guilty? No, Catra was doing her job and to let Scorpia and Entrapta in...
"I guess it's cute," Catra swallowed her disgust and slipped it onto her wrist. "But this does not mean I want to do game night! Understood?"
There was that smile again. When they'd first met, Catra found the smile on those harsh black lips unsettling, but now it unsettled her if Scorpia wasn't smiling. Or-really, Catra couldn't win. It all hurt.
"Eeek!" Scorpia squeed. "I just knew you'd love it!" Scorpia brought her claws up to her mouth. "I mean-erm, understood, Wildcat, I mean Force Captain Catra."
"Scorpia,"Catra folded her arms over her chest and sighed. "We're soldiers- force captains- we-I mean, you shouldn't get too attached. You never know when it'll all be over. When you'll be h-ugh! never mind!" Catra marched away.
Catra shut the water off and wrapped a thin, grey towel around her body before shaking the water out of her hair. Catra hated showering, the water got into her ears and it took forever for her fur to dry, especially on her tail. But now that she was a force captain, she had a private shower, and with the water pouring over her, she could cry without risk of being overheard. It wasn't something she allowed herself often, but today...she needed it.
She walked over to grab her clothes, and found the bracelet Scorpia had Rojelio make for her. She stared at the baby blue bracelet and remembered that she and Adora once made similar ones out of fabric from a sheet that had been moth-eaten. It wasn't pretty, but she wore the bracelet Adora made her with pride. She remembered Adora's stupid toothless grin as she presented her with it.
"I'll take it and make you one," Catra mumbled. "But this doesn't mean I like you!"
Catra couldn't help but smile, clutching the trinket in her clawed hand. Maybe, maybe...tears stung her eyes again as she clutched the bracelet tighter with a shaking fist. As she remembered why she and Adora no longer wore them.
"What's this?" Shadow Weaver squinted at their clasped hands and matching bracelets. "Adora, take that filthy thing off. You cannot be seen to wear your-" she turned her wrath to Catra. "Weaknesses literally on your sleeve."
"But, Shadow Weaver," Adora started. "Catra-"
"Is nothing more than a distraction to you, Adora," she sighed. "An obstacle to your true potential."
Catra felt as though she'd been slapped. Why did she expect anything different? All Shadow Weaver ever did was drive a wedge between them. Why'd she even agree to take guardianship over Catra? To motivate Adora, probably. It's clear she regrets that decision.
"That's not true, Shadow Weaver," Adora cried, standing. "She's my best friend! And she works really hard-"
"Works hard?" She laughed coldy stroking Adora's cheek. "I don't think I've had the displeasure of meeting anyone more unmotivated or lazy than Catra!"
"That's not true either," Adora murmured, but it seemed that was the extent of the courage the seven-year-old girl had.
"Enough with this foolishness, Adora," Shadow Weaver traced a rune in the air.
Red lightning crackled around dark, writhing shadows that snaked their way over to the girls. Catra, despite herself, let out a pitiful whimper and tears stung her eyes. Shadow Weaver casting always meant pain, and sometimes humiliation. To Catra's brief relief, the shadows only encircled their wrists and disintegrated the already weak fabric.
That relief vanished as she stared at her own bare wrist and to Adora's baby blue eyes filled with indignant tears. It wasn't fair!
"I believe you girls have sparring drills to get to," Shadow Weaver said in a pleasant voice, as if nothing had happened. "Oh, and, Adora, if you go easy on Catra I will be severely disappointed."
They were seven when that happened. Children! The bracelets were Adora's idea, but Catra had been blamed for it. Adora never meant to, it was always innocent, but Catra always took the fall for Adora's schemes. Whether it was breaking into Shadow Weaver's sanctum, the bracelets or...stealing a skiv and abandoning them all, Catra was the one at fault. Why?
Because you remind me of me,
Catra was nothing like Shadow Weaver! She was cold, unfeeling, condescending, cruel...Shadow Weaver was a manipulative monster! Catra wasn't blind to her flaws, but she would never be as bad as Shadow Weaver. And if Catra, too, was a monster, Shadow Weaver made her that way!
"Ugh!" she screamed throwing Scorpia's bracelet to the ground.
Blue beads scattered across the steel floor in every direction, clattering off the walls and hiding in the far corners of the bathroom. The could stay in their shadowy corners for all she cared while the baby blue floss sat alone, unadorned in a puddle on the floor. Catra, in a fit of rage stomped her foot on the braided scrap.
She wiped the steam on the mirror and stared at her reflection in disgust. Tears pooled in her yellow and blue eyes, draining to her tawny fur, her damp, brown hair almost to its usual untamed frizzy mass, and before her fallen black ears, were two long locks of hair framing her face. She gently touched the one Shadow Weaver lightly stroked back in her cell.
That one touch, one what she thought to be a maternal, loving glance, and Catra played right into her hands! How could she be so pathetic? Even now, hours after the fact, she cried over it. How many years did she spend crying over that stupid, old witch! Why did Shadow Weaver have so much hold over her?
That wasn't the only time she'd done that to her...
"Catra," Shadow Weaver loomed over her. "What have you done?"
"Shadow Weaver," Catra sobbed. "I didn't mean to!"
"Didn't mean to attack Adora?" she scoffed.
"It was a scratch, and Adora forgave me," Catra mumbled.
"Silence, insolent child!" Shadow Weaver hissed bringing her masked face to hers.
Catra was so young, so stupid, she couldn't stop herself from breaking into sobs. She hid her face with her clawed hands, ashamed. She knew this was unacceptable behaviour. She was six now, so why couldn't she control herself?!
"Oh, Catra," Shadow Weaver's voice became suspiciously warm. "Now, now, don't cry."
Catra felt Shadow Weaver gently play with one of her forelocks. Catra uncovered her face and looked up at Shadow Weaver. Behind her red mask, all Catra could see were her eyes, and they were impassible. She-foolishly- leaned into Shadow Weaver's touch. She felt her fingers move up her lock of hair and start to scratch the base of her ear. For a brief moment, Catra felt...loved.
That moment ended when Shadow Weaver grabbed both of Catra's forelocks and used them to pull her toward her. "People like-You don't get to cry. You're the one who hurt Adora. This is pathetic, Catra! And I swear, if you do anything to jeopardize my plans for Adora I will give you a reason to cry!"
How could Catra ever have been so stupid! She knew even then that she didn't matter to Shadow Weaver. But Catra wasn't a six-year-old frightened girl anymore. She didn't need Shadow Weaver, she didn't need anyone!
I will not hesitate to dispose of you myself! You are nothing compared to Adora! Catra has been nothing but a disappointment to me!
Disappointment... Catra glared at the pathetic girl staring back at her in the mirror.
"Argh!" she cried slashing the mirror with her claws.
A sharp pain ran through her hand as a shard of glass fell into the stainless steel sink, clattering and breaking into three large triangular shards. Catra stared at her left hand, blood covering her claws and fur on her finger tips. She searched them for a second, trying to suss out if any glass stuck into her flesh or fur. She didn't.
Catra looked back to her fractured reflection and grabbed the largest shard from the sink. No one was ever going to hurt her again! No one would weaponize her desire for warmth and connection again, because she would never be so stupid as to let herself crave those things ever again!
She inhaled sharply and held her forelock in a tight grip. Wild, unruly and out of control. Once she liked that about her hair, but Catra needed to be in control. Safety came with control, and Catra was too smart to give it to anyone else. She took the shard and started hacking away at the traitorous locks.
No one can hurt me now, Catra thought staring at herself in the broken mirror. Masses of dark curly brown hair lay in the sink, and Catra lacked the hair that since infancy sat in front of her ears. She soothed the now dry hair that remained, the unruly curls that once pointed in every direction now fell to her waist in some semblance of a form, no longer resembling a lion's mane.
All their lives, Catra was less. Invisible in Adora's shadow, crushed under Shadow Weaver's thumb. Things were different now. Catra was no longer content to be Adora's side-kick, or a tool for Shadow Weaver to prop up Adora. Catra was finally rising out of the shadows and taking control of her life.
She sighed at the hair in the sink before looking at her fractured reflection. She had cut away two distinguishing parts of herself, how long before the feelings attached to them went away too?