Chapter 3

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[AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter contains mature subject matter, including blood, physical abuse/torture. Please see the bottom of the chapter for specific content warnings.]

Adora kept her stride calm and purposeful until she was certain no one was following her. Then, once the storehouse was out of sight, she took off running. She sped through the street, her lungs searing with exertion until nausea forced her to stop. Adora doubled over and vomited into the gutter.

When her stomach was finally empty, Adora straightened up. She lifted her hand to wipe the sick from her mouth, only to find it covered in blood. Her head spun. All she wanted to do was get home.

Eventually she made it, shuddering with cold and damp and shock. She tapped out the secret pattern and the door creaked open. Rogelio was on sentry duty now, and despite his towering stature, he still looked startled to find Adora standing there, covered in blood. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said, pushing past him into the building.

It was quiet inside, and mercifully void of any other people. Adora dashed to the bathroom, flipped on the light, and locked the door behind her. She did a double take whens he caught sight of her reflection — somehow, she looked even worse than she felt.

Adora crammed the tooth into her pocket and peeled off her shirt. She rinsed her clothes with cold water, hoping the blood wouldn't set, then went to work on herself. She was in the middle of rubbing her face raw when she heard a knock at the door.

"Adora?" Catra's voice came from the hallway.

For a moment, Adora considered ignoring her. She was a mess—a frantic, teary mess—and she didn't want Catra to see her this way. But she knew perfectly well there was no such thing as ignoring Catra, so she reached out and unlatched the door.

Catra took that as the invitation it was and opened the door.

"What are you doing? I've been wait—" Catra stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes went wide as they raked over Adora, who stood wet and trembling in her pants and bra in the middle of the bathroom. "Are you okay?"

"I, uh..." Adora's mind churned for a reasonable answer. No, she wasn't okay, but to say so would feel like admitting defeat.

Catra slipped inside and shut the door behind her. "Adora, whose blood is in your hair?"

"Shit, shit..." Adora hissed, wheeling back around to the sink. She yanked the elastic out of her ponytail and proceeded to dunk her head under the tap.

"Adora, what the hell is going on?" Catra asked. Adora felt a soft towel drape over her shoulders. "What happened out there?"

Turning off the tap, Adora pulled the towel over her head and gave her hair a rub. It didn't seem to matter how much she washed or scrubbed — she still didn't feel clean. She gave up, and turned to Catra instead.

"The squad beat some shit of some guy tonight. Like, really fucked him up," Adora said, too ashamed to look Catra in the eyes. "At first they just had me stand guard outside, but then..." she hesitated and ran a shaky hand through her wet hair, "they made me hit him. Hard, with a pipe."

Catra let out a low whistle. "Damn. So, is that it then? Are you a Force Captain now?"

Adora blinked back at her. "Catra, didn't you hear what I just said? I had to beat some dude with a lead pipe. I think I might have killed him! How are you so calm about this?"

Tipping her head, Catra regarded Adora like a strange animal she'd never seen before. "Adora, you realize the Horde is a gang, right? We're the bad guys. I'm sure what you had to do was awful but... what did you think was going to happen?"

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