I ESCAPED A CULT BUT MY SOUL NEVER DID
When people hear the word *cult*, they think of crazy people in robes, chanting in the bush. They don’t realize that some of the most powerful people we admire — business owners, politicians, even celebrities — are sitting in those secret gatherings. I know, because I was there once.
It started when my life was falling apart. I was broke, jobless, and drowning in debt. A friend of mine told me about a “brotherhood” that could change everything. At first, I laughed, but when I saw how fast his life changed — new car, new house, no struggles — I started to believe.
He took me to my first meeting at a farm outside the city. From the outside, it looked like an old barn, but inside it was something else. Red candles everywhere, symbols painted on the floor, and men and women dressed in black watching me in silence.
They told me if I wanted wealth, I had to give something small first. A drop of blood. I thought it was a joke until they pulled out a blade. My friend cut his hand without even flinching. When it was my turn, my knees almost gave in, but I did it. Everyone clapped as if I had passed some kind of test.
That night I went home shaking. But then strange things began to happen. Job offers started coming. People who had ignored me suddenly wanted to help me. Within months, I had money in my account I couldn’t explain. It felt like a dream.
But dreams turn into nightmares.
Every three months, I was called back. And every time, the price got higher. First it was blood. Then it was bringing someone else. The worst came when the leader — an old veteran everyone respected in the industry — looked straight at me and said:
You’re ready to give more. Wealth requires exchange. Who in your family do you love the most?
My body went cold. That’s when I realized there was no way out. My friend who brought me there had lost both parents in “accidents.” Another member’s sister had disappeared without a trace.
I ran before it was my turn. I never looked back. But I don’t think I ever escaped. I still hear them in my dreams, calling my name. Sometimes, when I wake up, I see footprints of ash on my bedroom floor, as if they were standing over me while I slept.
I’m richer than I should be, even though I left. Deals keep opening up for me, but people close to me keep dying one by one.
I didn’t just join a cult, chomi. I sold my soul. And I don’t think they’ll ever stop collecting.
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