It all started so well. Transport was supplied. We were going to get a chance to do our choreography and score ourselves modeling agencies. But was it that simple? I wondered.

There I was, in a blue glittering dress, standing alone, thinking: What have I gotten myself into? This is not the type of gala dinner I see on TV or socials. These can’t be the big agency guys. They are just old men lusting over our thighs showing in these 2cm dresses we were given to wear by Mr. Adam.

Loud music, smoke, alcohol, and worse—I saw one of the girls here sniffing drugs in the bathroom as I ran in there, escaping one of those old, disgusting men who tried to give me a drink.

I started to panic. I thought I had to leave! I looked around to find Mr. Adam to tell him I wanted to go home.

“Sir! Sir!” I shouted as I saw a glimpse of his glittering jacket.
“What? Ain’t you supposed to be mingling, scoring yourself a big-paying agency? Yet you’re here looking for me? Mxm! I don’t have time for this—go on, go on, mingle!” he whispered as he nudged my shoulder off toward the direction of those men with big bellies.

I wanted to go home. The thought of those guys being the big modeling agency representatives was impossible for me. I didn’t care anymore.

“You’re not allowed to leave until the host of the event permits it,” said the tall, muscled bodyguard blocking the door.

My heart started pounding faster. My mind immediately went to so many places. I thought, What if we are forced to…? What if we are being…? They took our phones. I should’ve seen this place for what it was… I can’t call Mom now; she thinks I’m at a late-night math class. I can’t call Thandi; I told her to switch off her phone to avoid any possible questions from Mom.

That was when I realized I had no help. I realized it was fight or flight, and flight was no longer an option. There and then, I decided I just had to trust Mr. Adam.

I thought a little bit more sacrifice for my dreams wouldn’t hurt. I thought I couldn’t back down now—I only had to do what the other girls were doing.

Cocktail after cocktail, the girls drank. So did I. Tequila shot after shot, I did too.

As the evening went on, I didn’t feel that uncomfortable being around those men anymore. I also didn’t feel uncomfortable sniffing a line or two down that glass table filled with cocaine.

They kind of looked funny with those shiny suits that didn’t even fit them well, their bellies showing as they tried to dance. It all seemed funny—until I woke up the next day.

Naked. Five of us in the bed with two of those men.
I felt this sharp pain down my crotch. And yes, I was bleeding. From there, I knew what had happened. From there, I knew exactly what this event was about.

When I confronted Mr. Adam about what had happened, he whispered: “You’re old enough to see what was gonna happen, girl. So don’t come here crying, pretending to be all innocent. Ain’t nothing for free. You want fame and money? You just paid for it. Now wake up all the other little bitches and let me take you home,” he said, looking me deep in the eyes.

That statement came with threats—not to breathe a word about what happened. He claimed we didn’t have any evidence and told me there was no need to act all crazy.

My heart sank. My mind was spinning from all the alcohol, drugs, and the mess I was now in. Mom doesn’t know. Dad doesn’t either. Even my best friend Thandi has no idea I sold my soul for fame and money.

Today, I still think of Sarah’s words. Now I understand what she meant. Now I wanted to get out of this mess. I wanted to talk to someone, but Mr. Adam made sure none of us could. His threats lingered in my mind each and every day.

Although keeping quiet seemed to be the only option I had, I also just couldn’t imagine the disappointment and looks of disgust on my parents’ faces if they found out.

The thought of being pregnant at fifteen scared me to death. The signs were there. I just didn’t want to believe it.

Even if I were pregnant, a lot of questions filled my mind. Who is the father? I was still clueless as to who took my womanhood.

There’s no way I can tell my mom about this “abomination,” I thought. She has high hopes for me: “My child gonna butter my bread, God gonna shine on us too.” Those words lingered in my mind as I looked at my stomach growing each day.

“Friend, I think I am pregnant, and I am terrified,” I said to Thandi.

We were under a tree during break time. For a moment, she was quiet. It was like she lost all her words, her eyes looking at my stomach in awe.

Thinking she would judge me, I braced myself. But instead, she just kept quiet, gave me a hug, and whispered: “It’s going to be okay, chommie. We’re gonna get through this together.”

Those words felt like they shifted a little weight off my shoulders. At least I wasn’t alone anymore.

Tired. I wished the weekend had lasted a bit longer, but at least I wasn’t all alone anymore, I thought as I excitedly looked around for my bestie.

But if only I knew better, I would have just buried this secret deep down in my bleeding heart.

Thandi changed on me.

There I stood under the tree, alone, as everyone glanced my way. They giggled, some even spat in my direction. I was puzzled. What was so funny? Why was everyone acting weird?

“Where the hell is Thandi?” I thought. Maybe I missed something everyone was gossiping about that I didn’t know?

It all came to light when I saw Thandi—my “best friend”—walk past me like she didn’t see me, smiling and opening her arms to embrace Sarah—our enemy. It felt like I could feel the dagger slashing my heart into pieces.