It wasn't helping. Soothing sound of rain dripping outside. Still it wasn't compensating for the awkward silence prevailed in the room. she broke it with her hoarse voice,

"Uhh-can we not talk about that", she inquired, more like declaring.

"Okay, we can talk about anything else. Anything you want."

"Anything?"

"Of course. Why not?"

"It's just. I-uhh." She paused, closing her eyes like she wanted to lose the sense of seeing.

Suddenly, she opened her eyes. It felt like her eyeballs would fall out of her socket, and they were shining with the bubble of tears that formed in her eyes.

"Look." She sighed. "I've been through a lot. A lot more than you can imagine. And I just don't know where to start. Because I don't know myself how the hell this whole thing started". There was a quiver in her voice. Anyone can tell she was uncomfortable. Tensed blue eyes, messy blonde strands scattered on her face. Wrinkled, baggy clothes. Dressing up was definitely not her concern today or for I don't how much time had passed since she left thinking about her appearance.

I sighed. bending my postures forward, resting my hands on my knees. Fixing my gaze on her face I said, with the lowest yet audible tone I could manage to create,

"What do you call it?"

'What?" she asked with an arched brow.

"All that you have been through."

"Punishment. I guess."

"For what?"

"I don't know. Maybe for the sins of my past life" she chuckled and a thin stream of tears escaped from her shining blue eyes.

Yeah, what can you expect from a teenager? I thought.

"Who do you think is at fault"

"Society or me and maybe my parents. I think mom is. She should be blamed too."

"How come?"

"Because she didn't raise me tough!" she almost yelled

"Look, Catherine. Nobody is born tough. And being tough doesn't mean you don't have feelings. Tough people are just not expressive. They just don't show how they feel. And most of the time they end up being lonely."

I knew it wasn't going to be easy. That it was going to be a hard struggle to have a conversation. Unintentionally, I had rolled up my white button up shirt's sleeves. My brown hair was styled messily, coincidently matching her outlook. I was nervous, truly.

"I believe there is a reason for everything, and this shit, it just doesn't make sense. If it's supposed to make me tough or brave, it's just not working. It's- it's just traumatizing and-and it's killing me". There was blood in her eyes, her breath was heavy.

I dragged the glass of water in front of her, which was untouched for about an hour. White and gray themed interior felt very dark due to the effect of our conversation. I had intentionally designed it light themed. To have an impression of a lighted environment. But at times when gloomy souls pour their inner sadness into their words. Nothing was there to brighten up the vibe.

"Here, have a sip". She held the glass in her hand firmly, took a sip before giving it a long glare.

"I had a dog when I was your age. It was a girl, I used to call her cinnamon, because of her color."

She scoffed, "Are you trying to relate my situation to that dog of yours." She interrupted.

"No." I exclaimed.

"So why are you doing this? Talking about your dog."

"Just to lighten up the mood."

"Aren't you supposed to talk about my problems? Instead of this dog of yours, of which I don't give a shit about."

"Why didn't you consider other people's opinions irrelevant, like you think my dog is none of your business. My dog died because of some illness, of course that has nothing to do with you. Why don't you pretend all those mean people, like patients who have illness and they just can't stop talking mean things about you.'

"Yeah, like they will stop doing that."

"Let me tell you a thing, human beings crave attention. Our whole life, each and every act of ours is some kind of stage performance and if we don't get enough response for our actions we go for some other scheme to create a stimulus for our audience. And that's our choice how we chose to be in front of our audience"

"No," she shouted. "I am not an audience to them, I am a rolling stone." she stopped, and her expression was like the realization of something very dreadful hit her. "No, actually I am no one to them. No one, it would never affect them if I die, if I cry , if a – if a bus hits me."

There was a long pause of silence. I let her sigh. She was trembling. But it got better after some time. Then she continued,

"Do you know how it feels to have zero existence? You are always some girl in the background. The part of the picture that is cropped because it ruins their picture. Never invited to parties. you don't have anyone talk about how you spent your summer break. You are excluded from being a part of society. Alone in lunch breaks, alone in group projects. The only thing they do about you is calling your whole existence a joke." her voice was flat, only a single voice note. making it difficult for me to know her emotions behind those words. If she cares or not.

She paused, her eyes were wide open, and I let her say whatever there was in her mind:

"Joke," she scoffed. "It's excruciating; believe me it hurts so bad. When people feel like it's a punishment to be your partner". She burst into tears. There were red lines in her eyes, telling how exhausted they were, by seeing only hate in others eyes.

"I am a human being, with all the feelings, emotions and hormones and all that shit, that makes us a normal human being. But why am I not being treated normally? It would hurt less if they just don't be friends with me but they are mean. I am always a topic of gossip to them. A target to joke about. And I am wrong to complain. Because, apparently we are just kids, having arguments. And I am the one with the problem."

It was terrible to see a teenager suffering at this point, that she questions her existence now. A feeling of constant ignorance. The only attention she got was in the form of ridiculous remarks. All these events were going to leave deep imprints on her mind. Regardless of what happens next. Whether she recovers from her trauma or not.

Catherine had committed suicide for the third time this year. She was suspended from her school where she was supposed to make memories, have fun. Apparently, she overreacts when someone criticizes her. She takes her fellow joke too seriously. she cannot take a piece of advice, without creating a drama, out of it. It was also said that she does these self-harming stunts to gain attention. She spends most of the time in the bathroom, because she is a sociophobe and she has this illness. That has nothing to do with her fellows. She had countless sessions with her school counselor in conclusion of what his remarks were that she is delusional, always blaming others and all of the kids of her class were never complained by any other students. Her teachers cannot remember what her voice sounded like. They said that she is just lazy, her grades are falling. She just wants to be the center of attention because she is already failing her future.

"I think I should go," she stated. Her eyeballs were dancing in her socket. And I found it best to, to end the whole conversation since she was in no state to have a chat. With that I stood, which she did too. Her expressions were so much different from the person she was just a moment ago. I presented my hand for a hand shake. Which she joined, not paying attention to the act. Her hands were cold and sweaty. She was clearly having a panic attack.

"You should have some rest, we can talk anytime."

"Yeah, bye."

"Bye." My eyes followed her as she pushed herself out of my room.

I sat back on my couch, twirling pen in my fingers as I started to give a brief look to the file in front of me.

We as a human race have reached the heights of revolutions. We are no longer recognizable to the ancient man, who used to live with the knowledge about how to keep himself warm, search for food and to secure himself from being the prey to the monsters out there. This was the whole point of living. As compared to the modern man, who has no worry of their security, food and shelter except for special cases, of course. Modern man has everything in his hand. One click to visualize each and every part of the world. Google it and you can know about every detail of the particular topic whether you are eligible for that kind of information or not. That's where the problem began. People of this era are exposed too much to freedom. They are busy and free at the same time.