ConfessionsPlumeTiger

13 Aug 3 min read

I JOINED A CULT IN SECONDARY SCHOOL, AND ONE NIGHT MADE ME RUN FOR MY LIFE

I kept this part of my life secret for years out of shame over who I nearly became. In secondary school, I fell in with a group of boys I thought were friends, and what began as normal friendship turned into something I couldn’t control. I saw things no teenager should see and was given orders I was too afraid to refuse. Eventually, I realised leaving could cost me my life. Looking back, I know I was lucky. This is the story of how I got involved in cultism, the night I realised I could die because of it, and how I escaped in time. I was 15 when I entered secondary school, and like many teenagers, I desperately wanted to belong. I wanted friends who appeared confident, seniors who commanded respect, and a reputation that would ensure I was not easily intimidated. That was how I became associated with a group of boys who were widely feared. At first, they seemed harmless. They bought me food, protected me from bullies, and occasionally gave me money. They made me feel valued. I did not realise that I was gradually being drawn into something far more serious. One evening, they took me behind an abandoned classroom and told me I had to prove myself before I could be accepted into their circle. I was terrified, but I did not want to appear weak. After that night, everything changed. They began giving me instructions. I was told who I could fight, who I should avoid, and where I was expected to go after school. At times, I was sent to deliver messages to people I did not know. I started lying to my parents about my movements. Then one Friday night, everything escalated. One of the senior boys informed us that there would be a serious confrontation with another group. He made it clear that no one was permitted to withdraw. I immediately sensed that something was wrong. That night, I could not sleep. I kept imagining my mother receiving a call informing her that I had been killed. By morning, I had made a decision. I was going to leave. The problem was that leaving was not as simple as walking away. We were warned that anyone who betrayed the group would “face consequences.” I became extremely cautious. I stopped attending their meetings and began avoiding their usual gathering places. Eventually, I told my parents everything, fully expecting to be punished or rejected. Instead, my father remained unusually quiet. He asked me one question: “Do you truly want to leave this situation?” I said yes. At that moment, he understood that this was more than ordinary teenage mischief. My parents immediately involved trusted adults and the school authorities. I was transferred to another school before the situation could escalate further. However, the part that still haunts me occurred months later. I learned that one of the boys who recruited me had been expelled following a violent incident. Another had been arrested. And one of them never completed secondary school. Sometimes I wonder what might have happened if I had stayed. The most painful part is that I did not join because I was a bad child. I joined because I wanted acceptance. I wanted to feel powerful. I wanted to be feared. At 15, I did not understand that the people making me feel powerful were, in reality, taking control of my life. Today, I am older, and I still remember the abandoned classroom where it all began. If there is one thing I want teenagers to understand, it is this: Anyone who tells you that you must harm others, keep dangerous secrets, obey without question, or prove your loyalty through violence is not your friend. I survived because I eventually found the courage to walk away. But sometimes I think about the other boys who did not. And I wonder how many teenagers are currently making the same mistake I made—believing they have finally found a family, when in reality they are walking into a trap.