Trapped
1455 Words
Anna could barely lift herself from her bed. Her body felt like it weighed a thousand bricks, and her heart even more. Her roommate, Refilwe, had asked her what had happened in Johannesburg, but Anna had no energy to speak. How could she explain something that still haunted her in silence? How could she verbalize betrayal, humiliation, and guilt?
She turned her face to the wall and buried herself deeper into the blankets. Her phone buzzed a few times with class reminders and w******p messages from classmates, but she ignored them all. Nothing mattered anymore. Not school. Not friends. Not even herself.
Monday came and went. She didn’t attend a single lecture. Her absenteeism hadn’t gone unnoticed—she knew that. The bursary company had already sent a warning to her home in KwaZulu-Natal. Her mother would’ve fought that battle for her. But her mother wasn’t alive to fight for anything anymore.
On Tuesday morning, she forced herself out of bed and checked her email for the first time in days. Her eyes widened as she read the subject line: URGENT: Meeting with Dean’s Office – Tuesday at 10:30 a.m.. A cold shiver ran down her spine.
She dragged herself to campus and sat in the reception area, staring blankly at the floor until Mr. Naidoo, the Dean of Students, called her in.
“Anna,” he began, his voice unusually soft, “I regret to inform you that the company funding your studies has canceled your bursary. They cited breach of contract—missed classes, behavioral concerns, and academic performance. You’ll need to pay your outstanding fees or you won’t be able to write your midyear exams.”
Anna didn’t cry. She couldn’t. Her body had run out of tears.
Her mother’s only wish had been for her to graduate. To become a lawyer. To fight for the rights her father’s family had stolen. That dream had vanished now—swept away like the remains of Mama Jane’s body under the soil.
Anna walked back to her dorm in a daze. When she got inside, she grabbed her phone and typed the most painful message she’d ever written:
Billy, I am grateful that you helped me bury my mother and paid for my accommodation. But you cannot expect me to pay you the way I did the other day. You violated my rights. You left me with no choice but to let that cruel man have his way with me. I won’t tell anyone, but I don’t ever want to see you again.
She hit send and exhaled shakily. It was over.
She made herself a cup of hot chocolate and sat outside on the bench, legs curled under her, staring into the quiet campus garden. She needed to get a job. She needed to leave this place. She only had enough money for a bus ticket back home. There was nothing left for her in Cape Town. Not her dreams. Not her dignity. Not even safety.
Anna picked up her iPhone and dialed her sister.
“Sisi?” she asked softly when Asanda picked up.
“Anna, is everything okay?”
“I’m fine. I missed you… and the little ones. Do you guys have everything you need at home?”
Asanda sighed. “I’m glad you called. My battery’s about to die. We haven’t had electricity in two days. The municipality cut it off.”
Anna’s heart sank. Her little siblings—Sipho, Lungy—were sitting in darkness because she had nothing to give. “I’m sorry, Sisi. I’ll send money right now. I don’t have much, but please don’t ever feel scared to ask me.”
Asanda was grateful. Anna made the transfer immediately, sending the last few hundred rand in her bank account. Enough to get the lights back on. Enough to feed the guilt gnawing at her soul. She was now officially broke—with no money even to get home.
Her stomach growled, but she ignored it. It was almost 4 p.m. when Refilwe returned from the library.
“Anna, babe! You’re up!” she said, smiling gently. “Tell me—what happened in Johannesburg?”
Anna stared at her for a moment. Then, slowly, she began to speak. She told Refilwe everything. The funeral. Billy. Mr. Buck. The motel. Her mother’s cold, quiet grave. The pain. The shame. The silence.
By the end of it, both girls were crying.
Refilwe held her hand tightly. “You don’t deserve this, Anna. Let’s get you out of this mess. I’ll help you build a CV. We can apply for waitress jobs. Anything nearby. You’re not alone.”
That small spark of support gave Anna a flicker of hope. She was about to respond when a loud, thunderous knock rattled the door.
The girls froze.
Another knock. Harder this time.
“Who’s that?” Refilwe whispered.
Anna’s breath caught in her throat. Her hands trembled.
Then a voice. Chilling. Familiar.
“Open the door.”
Anna opened the door slowly—and there he was.
Billy.
“What are you doing here?” she stammered. “How did you find this place? Who opened the gate?”
Billy smirked. “I don’t need anyone to open anything. I have my ways.”
He stepped inside.
Refilwe tried to run, but he grabbed her and twisted her arm behind her back. She gasped in pain.
“If you scream,” Billy whispered coldly, “you’ll end up floating in the ocean. Understand?”
Both girls were frozen in fear.
“Anna, who paid your rent? Who paid for your mother’s coffin?” he hissed. “Did I force myself into your life—or did you come to me, begging?”
Anna shook her head silently.
“Now listen carefully. Go into your room. Get changed. And come back. If you make one wrong move, I’ll blow your friend’s head off.”
He held a pistol against Refilwe’s temple.
Anna turned and walked numbly to the bedroom. She rummaged through her wardrobe, trying to find something—anything—that wouldn’t draw attention. But everything felt wrong. Nothing would save her.
She finally chose a long black maxi dress and a brown jersey. Covered. Simple. Safe.
“You’re taking too long, dear,” Billy shouted from the living room.
Anna walked out. Refilwe’s face was soaked in tears. Anna’s heart shattered.
“Take the car keys,” Billy said, tossing them to her. “Go downstairs and start the engine. If I don’t hear it in two minutes, your friend’s body will hit the pavement.”
Anna obeyed. She walked down to the parking lot, inserted the keys into the ignition, and started the engine. The sound of the car roared to life.
Billy joined her, sliding into the passenger seat. He gave a smug smile. “Good girl. Drive.”
Anna didn’t speak. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white as she drove to the nearby motel. It was the same place as last time.
“You owe me,” Billy said as they entered the parking lot. “And you’re far from done paying.”
She parked the car.
“Room six. Go,” he ordered, tossing her the access card.
She walked to the door, hoping for an emergency exit, a camera, someone—anyone—to help.
Nothing.
Inside the room, she found a mini red dress laid out neatly on the bed. Next to it, a pair of towering high heels.
“Shower. Change. We’re going to brunch,” Billy said casually, as if they were lovers. As if he wasn’t her tormentor.
Anna obeyed.
Afterwards, he forced himself on her again.
And then, as if that weren’t enough, he took her to a different room.
Anna hesitated as she opened the door.
Inside, she found a scene from hell.
Girls aged sixteen to twenty-five, drinking, sniffing cocaine, some injecting each other with needles. They were half-naked. Laughing. Crying. Lost.
“These,” Billy said, “are your new friends. Welcome.”
Anna stumbled backwards.
“No…” she whispered. “No, I can’t do this.”
He handed her a joint.
She refused.
He handed her a needle.
She dropped it.
“Billy,” she begged, falling to her knees, “please, if I’ve disrespected you by ending the relationship, I’m sorry. Let’s fix this another way. Just… please don’t make me take drugs.”
Billy narrowed his eyes.
“You or your sister,” he said simply. “But someone is going to pay me back.”
Anna stared at the floor. Her heart screamed. Her body trembled. But she said nothing.
Because she knew—
She was trapped.
.
- Writer
