Dysfunction. That was the first word that came from Drew’s therapists lips as she sat across the room from him. Then he went on to explain that she was used to dysfunction. With her parents and their issues, with the blatant fact that she had chosen a cult to raise her and not her parents. She lived for dysfunction, from one extreme of not being raised at all to the other extreme of being indoctrinated by cult leaders who wanted her to be the perfect pop star. She didn’t know who she was, and that is what they would be working on. Now that she had left the cult and hadn’t jumped the gun to joining a new one or creating her own - she had lost her sense of self. She didn’t know who she was, because she lost the right to find out who she was when she was thirteen. For a decade it was drilled into her head that she had to be the sexiest, yet innocent in her demeanor. She had to play dumb, but shock people with her knowledge. She had to promote the way she lived life and thank Icxna the “celebrity self help” group, but continue to bring young girls in to be trafficked like she had been without giving them the hope of ever getting out.
“I want you to tell me, what’s the most horrible thing - in your mind, that you have done?” The middle aged man asked and Drew looked down.
“I had a strategically planned meet up for my fans. Most of them are aged 12-17. I said I wanted to spend the day with them in one of the group chats they made for me. I told them to not tweet it out or even tell their parents and I got them all, we spent time together, it was a really fun day.” She explained, her voice breaking. “Then the men from Icxna came a few hours later. They were promised rides to and from our little meeting place, what they didn’t know is when they left they weren’t going home.” She mumbled, her eyes started to water and she grabbed a tissue. “That was my final initiation into the cult. Get a large group of teenage girls into the sex ring, and I did it. I didn’t even question it.”
Now that Drew was out of the cult and starting to have thoughts of her own, she knew how bad this was. Luckily her sister had covered up that crime for her. Drew looked like an angel when she was really a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Well, she used to be that - now she was paying for her sins. Every day she hoped and prayed that those girls got out when Icxna disburse, but she couldn’t be so sure. They could have been sold to the next sex trafficking ring and sadly they probably were.
The therapist nodded. “Do you feel bad about that?” He asked and Drew laughed, though it held no humor. “Of course a fucking feel bad about it. I ruined lives.” She hissed. “I don’t know who that was or who I am, I’m just floating.” She told the doctor. “I don’t know if I’ll ever know who I am.” She said quietly. Frowning. “All of this is bullshit. I did something that deserves a death penalty but I look like a survivor? Bullshit. If I could take it back I would.”
After that, Drew got a new therapist and didn’t speak about her life in Icxna. The part of her life that left a mental scar so big, no one would ever understand. A scar that promoted dysfunction in now what seemed to be the most normal part of Drew’s 23 years.
