This chapter contains psychological tension, coercion, manipulation, and the depiction of human trafficking. Reader discretion is advised.
The Awakening
.
The Awakening
The sun had barely risen when the girls were ordered to line up outside the dormitory.
Cold morning air brushed their skin, but none of them spoke. Their faces still carried traces of yesterday's fear—red eyes, stiff movements, hands clenched too tightly. Yet beneath the fear, a fragile thread of excitement fluttered in their chests.
They had been promised opportunity.
Travel.
A future beyond the narrow streets they came from.
A chance to shine.
But something in the air felt wrong.
Ten men stood at the entrance of the compound.
They were tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in dark clothing, their faces hidden behind black masks. They didn't speak at first. They didn't need to. Their presence alone was a warning—silent, heavy, suffocating.
Adesuwa felt it immediately.
That instinctive tightening in her chest.
The kind that told her danger had already arrived.
The guide appeared from the side of the building. He was tall, clean-shaven, his voice clipped and emotionless, like someone reading instructions off a page.
"Move," he ordered. "Training begins today."
No one asked questions. Not anymore.
Their bags had already been searched. Phones taken. Letters confiscated. Yesterday, one girl had cried too loudly and been dragged away for "discipline." She hadn't returned.
Obedience was no longer a choice—it was survival.
They were herded into a wide hall. Mirrors lined the walls from floor to ceiling, reflecting pale morning light and dozens of frightened faces. The room smelled of disinfectant, sharp and clean, but it couldn't hide the deeper scent beneath it.
Fear.
The guide gestured to a pile of folded clothes on a table.
"Change."
The girls stepped closer. Lace. Silk. Tight fabrics that clung in ways no training uniform ever should.
Adesuwa's stomach twisted.
"This… this doesn't look like fashion school," a girl whispered beside her, voice shaking.
The guide didn't acknowledge her.
"Put them on," he said flatly. "Confidence matters. Movement matters. You are being evaluated."
Evaluated for what?
The question burned in Adesuwa's mind, but she swallowed it down. One by one, trembling hands reached for the clothes. Some girls obeyed in silence. Others hesitated, eyes darting toward the exits that suddenly felt very far away.
When they finished changing, the guide clapped his hands once.
"Walk. Turn. Move."
The girls did as instructed. Awkward steps. Forced smiles. Bodies stiff with shame.
"Dance," he added.
A sharp breath rippled through the room.
One girl stepped back. Her name was Tonia. She was small, with hopeful eyes that hadn't yet learned how cruel the world could be.
"I… I can't," she said softly. "Please. I want to go home."
The room froze.
The guide turned to her slowly. The masked men shifted behind him, boots scraping lightly against the floor.
"Home?" one of them murmured, his voice low and rough. "There is no home."
Tonia shook her head, tears spilling. "You promised—"
A loud, sudden crack split the air.
The sound echoed violently against the walls.
Tonia collapsed.
Screams tore through the hall. Some girls dropped to their knees. Others covered their mouths, terror locking their bodies in place.
Adesuwa's legs nearly gave out.
Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might break through her chest. Her ears rang. Her vision blurred.
In that instant, everything became clear.
This wasn't fashion training.
This wasn't opportunity.
This was something far darker.
This was about control.
About breaking spirits.
About turning human beings into commodities.
As the chaos settled, one of the masked men leaned toward another and whispered, his voice barely audible.
"Prepare them. Cameroon first. Europe after."
The words sliced through Adesuwa like ice.
Cameroon.
Europe.
The so-called International Bridal Internship Program was a lie. A beautiful lie designed to lure girls who dreamed of more. Fashion school was only the cover.
This was an oloture network.
Trafficking, hidden behind lace and promises.
One by one, the girls were forced to step forward again. To move. To sway. To perform. Instructions were barked. Some were praised. Others mocked. Every glance from the masked men felt like a verdict.
Adesuwa obeyed. She had to.
Every step was calculated. Every expression controlled. Survival demanded silence.
She studied everything—the exits, the mirrors, the rhythm of the guards' patrols. The reflections revealed more than faces; they showed angles, blind spots, patterns.
Hours passed in a blur.
Exhaustion settled deep into their bones, but fear kept them upright. At one point, a young girl curled into herself in the corner, sobbing quietly. A guard approached, fastened restraints around her wrists, and dragged her away.
No one followed.
No one asked.
Silence ruled here.
Adesuwa swallowed hard, her throat burning.
They're selling us, she realized. Like goods.
Her hands clenched into fists.
I will survive, she vowed silently.
I will remember everything.
And if I ever get out… the world will know.
She glanced around at the others. Some stared blankly ahead. Some cried without sound. Some trembled so badly they could barely stand.
The truth had settled into all of them now—heavy, undeniable.
Fashion school had been a trap.
Opportunity had been bait.
And fear was the currency that kept this place alive.
As evening fell, the sun cast long shadows through the narrow windows, stretching across the floor like dark fingers.
Somewhere behind the masks, plans were already being made.
For Adesuwa and the girls beside her, the nightmare was no longer approaching.
It had already begun.
Thank you for reading ❤️💟of you're enjoying lace&lies please support with power stones and comment
Your support means everything 🙏