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In the heart of Mamelodi, 17-year-old Lethu dreams of escaping poverty with nothing but schoolbooks, a cracked phone, and ambition.

But when her older brother vanishes and secrets surface, she’s pulled into a world of gang ties, betrayal, and survival.

Can she hold on to her future, or will the streets swallow her too?

Stolen Youth: Kasi Secrets Don’t Stay Buried .

📖 Chapter 13: The Ones Who Never Speak

The Kasi had gone from whispers to roars — then suddenly, to silence.

Boitumelo could feel it even in the way people crossed the road when they saw her. She wasn't just a schoolgirl anymore. She was something else now. A name whispered in meetings. A face blurred in threats. A girl caught between survival and revolution.

She sat in the back of her gogo's kitchen, files spread on the plastic tablecloth. Her phone was full of voice notes. Some from anonymous sources. Some from missing numbers. All of them carried pieces of a puzzle no one dared to solve before.

Neo entered, dropping a flash drive on the table.

"I got this from Kamo's cousin. Hidden under floorboards."

Boitumelo's eyebrows lifted. "Still nothing from Kamo?"

Neo shook his head. "He vanished. Just like Palesa. Just like the others."

She plugged in the drive, and her heart stopped when she saw the folder title:

Inside were 12 subfolders. Each named after someone the Kasi barely remembered: Thabang Mokoena. Lethabo Sibanda. Palesa Maduna.

Each folder had pictures. School reports. Diary entries. Some had videos. Some were blank.

And in the last one — there was a voice recording.

> "If you're hearing this, it means they finally got me. Don't trust anyone from the church. Don't trust the principal. And most of all… don't trust the outreach program."

> "They choose kids who won't be missed."

Her stomach twisted. "They've been doing this for years."

Neo leaned against the fridge, fists clenched. "This is bigger than Tshepo."

The next day at school, everything felt colder. The sky. The wind. Even the classrooms.

Mrs. Mokoena wasn't there. Nor was the principal.

But a new face stood in the hallway: a man in a black coat, sunglasses, and leather shoes too clean for Kasi soil.

Neo leaned in. "Government, maybe. Or worse."

Boitumelo nodded. "Let him watch. He'll see the truth soon enough."

At break, a voice called her to the library. It was Keabetswe, waving her over with urgency.

"They took her, Tumi!" Kea said, panicked. "Sibongile — she was helping me organize witness lists — now she's gone!"

Boitumelo's throat went dry. "Gone like… missing?"

"No. Gone like — her mom said she's visiting family in Limpopo. But Sibo doesn't have family in Limpopo."

Neo joined them. "They're scrubbing names now."

Boitumelo slammed her fist against the desk. "No more hiding."

That night, she filmed one final video. Not live. Not edited.

Tired eyes. Tired voice. But filled with fire.

> "They tried to erase us. To silence us. But we're still here. My name is Boitumelo Mabaso. I was almost next. But I won't let this happen again. Not while I'm breathing."

> "To the ones who never speak — we're speaking now."

The video went viral within hours. Kasi-wide. Even trending in other townships. Twitter. TikTok. Telegram.

She didn't sleep that night. Neither did Neo.

By sunrise, their phones were filled with DMs.

Some thanked her. Some offered help. Some begged her to stop.

But one message stood out. No profile pic. No name.

> "You're brave, but you forgot the rule: the Kasi protects its own secrets. And you're not Kasi anymore."

She sat on her gogo's stoep, watching the kids play in the road.

This fight started with fire. It might end with it too.

But her eyes were set on something bigger now.

Stolen Youth:Kasi Secrets Don’t Stay Buried