AUTHORS NOTE:

"Catharsis" is a true story. It was (and is) currently ongoing in real time, so expect some delay from time to time. Some things will be changed out of courtesy/privacy. After some thought, I've decided not to specifically state what the heavy topics involved are as to not "spoil" the story, however I will say that trauma is involved throughout "Catharsis." Please read with caution, this is rated M for a reason. If you ever feel the need to step away from this story for a bit, or altogether, that is completely understandable. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this little story.

Story Notes:

Inb4: Zuko/Katara slow burn ship, no canon ships, modern AU, and OOC.
Chapters will be in drabble or vignette form, meaning 100-500 words or around/under 1,000 words, respectively.
This makes it easier on me to write whilst dealing with reality as well as publish more often.
I hope to aim for longer chapters as I continue, especially when I've reached the soul of this story.

Enjoy.

I never answer my phone to unknown numbers. Especially at two in the morning.

Jet and I have finally established...something. Whatever that something is. I'd like to think of it as a fling of some sorts; because let's not lie to ourselves, he's more into me than I'd like. But I'm here for a good time, not a long time. And it wasn't looking too bright already. But Jet wasn't too bright either, so I guess it was only fitting.

Everything about him could give any woman an immense distaste for the idea of dating. First off, he was busted. I mean, he was horribly unattractive — and that's being nice. His hair was, for the most part, kept unkempt. Amber radiated from his eyes, which would've been beautiful had his eyes not been surrounded by his persistent habit — three, maybe even, four blunts within the last hour alone. Second, his build, although followed suit with many other's likeness, didn't align with mine. I don't know if that was because of my preference, not boulder-like, or because just everything about that man screamed annoying. Third, the texts. It wasn't the lack of or his tone was "off", but all his texts were never proofread...clearly. Missing articles, run-on sentences, and words all jumbled together that made absolutely no sense — grammar didn't exist. I was starting to think autocorrect wasn't even an option on his keyboard. He never looked over his texts before sending them. Maybe that was the problem or maybe I was giving too much credit, he did say he didn't know how to read out loud at his grown age.

But I had no close friends, no one to confide in without judgment, no support system of any kind. I had nothing. I had no one. Jet was there. He wasn't the best, yeah, but he wasn't the worst and it was better than nothing...no matter how many times I've counted the ways I'd leave him.

We hadn't played around with the idea for very long, being together. Now that I think about it, I'm not even too sure that it was ever a topic in conversation. Nonetheless, we had something, kind of. It was more me using him as a placeholder until I had someone worthy and him practically eye-fucking me every second of every day. I was out of his league and we both knew it.

But our...arrangement was my someone until I didn't have no one.

It came to cost my brain cells...and my sanity.

Two in the morning.

Ring. Ring.

Why.

Leaned over, only a quick gleam of light. A text. It was from a number I've never seen blowing up my phone with panic. Once the initial aggravation of being woken up at ungodly hours drained out of me, my eyes fixated on the purified misery of that text.

Hey Katara, I need to talk to you. I found your number. Me and Jet have been together for three years... I'm his girlfriend.

Well, shit.