"Okay, if you don't want to tell me, fine. Go to the school counsellor at least. She can help you." "Fine, I will go to see her tomorrow morning." "Good! Now, if you want, you can go to sleep and I will wake you up when our stop comes." I nodded and slept on the bus. No, I closed my eyes and cried myself to sleep.

***

"Did you see the counsellor today?" He asked me in the afternoon the moment I stepped into the bus. "Uh, no, I couldn't -" "Didn't. You didn't have the guts to go to her. I am taking you to her tomorrow." "WHAT? NO! No, I can't -" "What's going on here?" Avani asked. Silence fell like a thick blanket over us. "He wants me to go to the counsellor," I responded. Avani knew about me. All of me. She understood the situation immediately. 

"Well, you should, but when you're comfortable. You can't push her to do it, Vivaan," she said. Then she sat down next to me and talked to me about how things were at home. "Still not good. It feels like the thread that kept dad and me together has been cut. We no longer talk to each other unless absolutely necessary." She hugged me tight and told me not to worry. Like that, my heavy eyes closed and I fell asleep.

***

"Can you take me to the counsellor today in the recess?" I asked Vivaan on the bus stop in the morning. "Yes, I will. Towards the end?" I nodded. "I will come or you will?" Before I could respond to that, he said, "I'll come. You stay in your class."

He took me to the counsellor as promised. "I'll be okay. Go back to your class." I said when he didn't turn to go after he guided me to the counsellor's room. He feebly smiled, probably to give me strength and walked away. I heaved a nervous sigh before pushing the door and saying, "Harshita ma'am?"

The lady sitting in the chair was in her mid-twenties. She had sharp eyebrows and plump lips coloured in nude pink. She motioned for me to sit in the chair opposite to her before asking me how I was feeling.

"Um, I don't where to start from. I am in depression." I nervously said, my fingers drawing circles on my skirt. "It's okay, let it all out," she encouraged. In the span of 2 periods, I slowly told her about my mom's death, the Night, the distance between me and my dad, the rumours, the bullying I had faced in New York and how I had attempted suicide twice after the rumour episode. 

"Did you self-harm too?" she asked in a neutral tone. I nodded and showed her my arms. They were covered in tiny scars that were almost fading. There were 5 scars though that seemed as if permanently tattooed on my hand with a colour that was 2 shades lighter than my natural skin tone. "Anywhere else?" she asked. "My inner thighs. I pinch them badly when I feel on the verge of tears." I am very emotional, so I find it hard to keep my tears from spilling down my cheeks. I hurt myself as a means to stop my tears from spilling, and it usually works. Usually.

But it didn't work when he had called you a slut. When his friends ruined your friend's notes just because you had rejected him. When he crossed his limits and tore your notebook like it was nothing important. It didn't work when he shamed you in front of the class and bullied you all those years. It didn't - 

"Kim! Where are you?" Harshita ma'am asked. "Here, here only. I just... remembered my past." "It's fine. So you have PTSD, right? You've been having the same nightmare for 3 months." I nodded. "So every time, you see the man holding an AK-47, ready to shoot you in the back?" I nodded again. I had cried so much I didn't feel like speaking another word. My throat was parched.

"And when it's not this, you imagine that incident you had on the highway, right?" Again, I nodded. "Okay. So you said you fear isolated roads, travelling at night and a certain type of men. I assume a certain type of men that look similar to your criminals or those who give similar vibes?" "Yes. Exactly. Even elder men who aren't parental figure give me creeps."

"Okay. Noted. And depression. That's harder to deal with than PTSD because Indians understand PTSD clearer than depression. So, that incident triggered your depression. You had a snowball effect. The bullies tore you down. The distance between you and dad also depresses you. And then your classmates..."

She offered me a tissue when tears spilt down my cheeks again. I wanted to stop crying but I couldn't. It was like someone had fit a tap and had left it running and I was just trying to control the pressure of water in the tap. She looked at me for a long time before asking me if I wanted to continue or stop. "I think it's enough for today. Can we continue this some other day?" I asked. "Yes. Does Tuesday next week suit you?" "Um, yes. What time should I come?" "I will call you through one of the baijis. You don't worry about that." After washing my face in the washroom multiple times, I walked back to the classroom.

***

"How did it go?" Vivaan asked me the moment I sat down on my seat. "It was emotionally draining. I feel like I barely have the energy to get through today even though I didn't do much today." I sighed loudly and continued, "I have to go to her on Tuesday next week. But I'm dreading it a bit after seeing how energy-consuming they are."

"Come here, Kim. Sit with me today." I dropped my back next to him and sat down next to him. He lightly hugged me and told me not to worry. "Things will get better. I don't know what you go through but it must be overwhelming." He stroked my head gently and told me to go to sleep. With that, I fell asleep on his shoulders, his hands wrapped around me. 

A/N: I wanted to show how Kimora has been hiding her true self from everyone except Avani till now

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A/N: I wanted to show how Kimora has been hiding her true self from everyone except Avani till now. She has just started to share bits and pieces about her with Vivaan. She has finally sought professional help to fight with depression. Do you think she will be able to get out of depression anytime soon now?

QOTD: What do you do when you feel unsuppressable rage?

AOTD: I resort to self-harm, crying my eyes out or writing all of my feelings on a piece of paper.

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