Little did they know but they were dealing with a survivor of abuse. In my childhood, I was physically and mentally abused by my crack-head mother and sexually abused by a string of worthless pieces of humanity, otherwise known as my mother’s boyfriends. I’ve endured hunger, cold, sleep deprivation, you name it. And I’ve done what I could to survive. If that meant walking the streets looking for garbage to eat, then that’s what I did. If it meant cutting my arms just to get some relief, that’s what I did too.

I have a high tolerance to physical and mental pain. I’d practically seen it all and done most of it by my tenth birthday!

These initiations, they were child’s play! ‘Bring it on!’ is what I thought as they force-fed me cockroaches and held me face down in a bowl of vomit. ‘You can do better than this!’ I thought as they stripped me naked and made me stand outside in the cold snow for half an hour. These girls from their privileged homes were pathetic. Their snobbery was like watching a comedy unfold before my eyes. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing. And what would these ever-so-pretty girls become? Soccer moms? Yacht club secretaries? Hollywood wives? Hostesses with the most cringeworthy canapés you could consume, being ever-so-careful they didn’t get a bit of food stuck to their designer teeth?

Yeah, I am using them. I have plans. This university is part of my plans. This sorority will be helpful to mention when I am studying for my bar exam. Then, when I pass with flying colours, I will finally be able to track down those bastards who raped me and lock them away for the rest of their sad lives.

May they rot in hell.