Slave

The expensive car pulls up to the curb of St. Teresa High School. From the backseat, you watch as groups of students laugh and talk, filing into the building. The sprawling campus, lined with trees and decorated with flower pots, seems a world away from the cold, controlled environment you live in.

"The driver has paid for your school fees and textbooks," the man beside you says, his voice smooth but filled with a chilling undercurrent you know all too well. His hand, heavy with gold rings, rests on your thigh, squeezing painfully. "All you need is to go collect your school uniform..."

He leans closer, his breath hot against your ear, whispering threats that make your skin crawl. You nod, eyes fixed on your sneakers, choking down the fear and hate. This is just another school, another temporary stop before you have to move again. But this time... maybe this time will be different. This time, there's a flicker of hope, a dangerous idea forming in your mind.