Rooted From Betrayal

I had been naive; blinded by their brilliant smiles and unable to see their hatred. Looking back, there had been signs; small and subtle but there. Even then, even if I had seen how quickly they changed the subject when I talked about things that mattered to me; even if I had noticed the secret glee not quite hidden should I suffer in any way, I certainly wouldn't have guessed they disliked me to the point of selling me out. Literally. We had recently graduated after some torturous six years of studying to get our Bachelor of Medicine and Bachelor of Surgery qualifications; I had gotten placed in Chris Hani Baragwanath hospital—just as I'd hoped—for my internship and my then boyfriend had recently proposed to me. I had been the happiest I had ever been. Because I didn't lose my mind in what followed... I still marvel at my resilience. My friends had wanted a mother-of-all graduation party and as rich as their parents were, they could afford it. However, just a week before the party, they suddenly changed their minds and wanted to go to a club instead. We flew across the country to spend the weekend in Cape town where we were to visit Havana nightclub on the last night. My fiancé hadn't wanted me to go—mainly because he wouldn't have been there himself—but I had been able to convince him otherwise. I should have listened to him. The weekend had been amazing but my friends had been impatient to go to Havana; they had been impatient to finish the transaction that would turn my life upside down. I spent more time on the dance floor than I did drinking that night. At some point though, I had settled into the private booth my friend Prajna had gotten for us. Then we drank, and drank, and had the best time. At least, I had been. There had initially only been the four of us on that booth; me, Prajna, Sakhile and Naledi. But at some point in the night, our group had been joined by two men and a woman I had never seen. Of course, I couldn't have known anyone in that club, but my friends, they were familiar with them. Whatever relationship they'd had though, didn't seem very casual or anything of the sort. On the contrary, it had—from the very beginning—appeared very formal and almost business-like. Sakhile had spoken in length with the young woman—he had addressed her as Rosy—but the two men had remained oddly quiet. It had gotten to the point where I wanted to leave but Naledi stopped me. How I hadn't gotten suspicious by then is still beyond me. I guess they had grown tired of the wait because the oldest of the two brothers had suddenly handed Prajna an envelope. She had opened it immediately and took out a slip of paper that looked too much like a cheque. The passing glance she gave me had made ice form in my gut and I had known then; I shouldn't have gone there. Sakhile had seen the satisfaction in Prajna's eyes and had given me such a hateful glare that fear like nothing I'd ever know overtook me. "She's yours." Those had been the words that made it all click; it had been too late. Shock and terror hadn't been enough to stop me from trying to run; I had failed to notice the two guards Rosy and her brothers had come with. My "friends" had stood to leave, Naledi—the most kindhearted person I had ever known-hadn't said anything to object; she had even looked a bit glad. "Why?" I had asked Naledi, because how could such a kind person agree to do this to her friend? "Because I want him." She hadn't even had a sliver of remorse in her. How I did not lose my mind then and there is beyond me. "Leave, before I put a bullet in you." The man I would have soon learned was the one who 'owned' me had threatened. When he spoke I had realized something I had failed to notice when his sister had spoken to Sakhile. They were not South African; this realization had made me snap. Much of what happened after that is still fuzzy but I do remember glimpses of it. I remember jumping Naledi and pummeling her with my fists; I remember someone throwing me off her; I remember the sound of glass shattering, and I remember the screams. When I woke the next day, I had been in an unfamiliar hotel room wearing bloodsoaked clothes. I never did ask my captors which of my friends I had killed.