Case 1 - EqualWorld

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The following stories contain descriptions of sexual abuse, physical violence, emotional trauma, neglect, and other deeply distressing experiences. If you have personally experienced any of these situations, please consider whether reading these accounts may be too upsetting. These cases are shared to raise awareness and empathy, but they may be extremely triggering for survivors. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Case One – Just at 17, she carried a secret she was too scared to tell anyone. This is a story about how Rose battled teen pregnancy after someone she trusted took advantage of her

My name is Rose (Not a real name), and I am 17 years old. There are only two of us—my sister and me. Our mother passed away when I was six, and my sister was five. Growing up without a mother was difficult, though my father, who is a non-Malaysian working in a palm oil estate, visited us once a month to give money for food and school expenses.
When I entered secondary school, I stayed in the hostel. Living in a dormitory with about 16 students was one of my biggest challenges. Every morning, students rushed to the washroom, and I struggled to adapt to the crowded environment. After six months, I left the hostel because I was bullied by older students, something I kept to myself.

I moved into a rented house with my sister, where I felt freer to be myself. However, living together wasn’t always easy—we often argued, and I sometimes skipped school either because I overslept or simply didn’t feel like going.
By the time I reached Form Three, I started working at a coffee shop as a dishwasher. My boss later taught me how to take customer orders. It was a new experience, but I often made mistakes and was scolded. Despite the challenges, I learned resilience and responsibility through
those moments.

After some time, my boss moved me from serving customers to working in the kitchen, helping with cutting vegetables and meat. Honestly, I did not enjoy the job, but I continued because I needed money—I wanted to buy my own handphone. My father was not aware of what I was doing. Later, my boss also asked me to manage the homestay next to the coffee shop.
During this period, I stopped attending school for six months because I was focused on earning money for myself. It was then that I met a man who seemed kind at first. He gave me money and bought things for me. When he initiated a relationship, I followed what he said, even though I didn’t fully understand his intentions. I overheard him talking on the phone about money, but I couldn’t make sense of it. Slowly, I began to feel uneasy and frightened. I tried to block him from contacting me, but I kept my silence and didn’t tell anyone what was happening inside me.

Managing the homestay became my daily routine, but deep down, I carried fear and confusion. Several months passed, and I started to feel unwell. I suffered from headaches and vomiting. I told my boss I needed rest and couldn’t come to work. My sister noticed my condition too—she asked why I was sleeping most of the time. We often survived on instant noodles, sharing quiet moments of worry and struggle.
I did not understand what was happening to me. On my own, I bought a pregnancy test, and when it showed positive, I was shocked. I kept the news to myself, spending most of my days sleeping at home. For months, I did not attend school because of constant headaches and vomiting. I felt lost, scared, and deeply ashamed of myself.

At home, I continued to have arguments with my sister over small things, but inside, I was carrying a heavy secret. I reached out to my boyfriend, hoping for support, but instead he told me to have an abortion. His response made me furious; he refused to take responsibility. That left me feeling even more alone, burdened by fear and uncertainty.
One day, my teacher and aunt came to visit me after my sister told them I was unwell. They brought me to a nearby clinic because I was complaining of headaches. At the clinic, a medical officer asked me to do a blood test to check for malaria and also a urine test. From these tests, it was confirmed that I was pregnant.
The doctor’s first question was about my parents. At that time, both my teacher and aunt were waiting outside. The doctor asked me about my boyfriend, and I explained what he had told me. I then called my aunt and teacher into the room. I overheard the doctor saying that a police report needed to be lodged. Together, the doctor, my teacher, my aunt, and I went to the police station. The police contacted JKM (the Social Welfare Department) about my situation.

The following day, my boyfriend was arrested. My aunt contacted my uncle, and I was referred to the OCSS in Sandakan Hospital. My uncle drove me there, it was a long journey, and I felt hungry because we had left early in the morning without eating. I sat there feeling weak and anxious. Late in the evening, we returned home, but my uncle did not know what to do next.
Since my case had been reported to the police, both my uncle and the JKM officers explained that I needed to be sent to a place of protection. Hearing this frightened me even more. My fear and anxiety grew stronger. I resisted the idea, feeling confused and unwilling to go, but I had no choice except to obey my uncle.
When we arrived at the place—a huge building—I met a lady who introduced herself as Sister Angelina. She first spoke with my two uncles while I waited outside, wondering what they were discussing. About fifteen minutes later, my uncle called me in. Sister Angelina asked my name, and I introduced myself, feeling shy. Then she asked if I wanted to stay there. I answered, “Yes.” She continued, “Do you know why your uncle sent you here?” I replied softly, “I am pregnant.”

She explained the house rules to my uncles and me, and then I was asked to fill in a form. The staff were kind and welcoming. One of them approached me and asked how I was doing. I simply smiled and nodded. They invited me to sit with them and watch TV. By the third day, I began to feel more familiar with the environment. A staff member accompanied me to the hospital, and although they didn’t ask much about me, I followed quietly. I noticed the other residents talking freely with one another and with the staff, and slowly I began to observe how life in this new place worked.
After a week, I began to feel more comfortable in the new environment. The staff were friendly and often helped prepare meals. They reminded us to take our medication and made sure we were cared for. Slowly, I started to open up by talking and interacting more with residents. I found joy deep inside me in sharing and connecting with others.
I was allowed to attend counselling sessions, where I could express how I truly felt and reflect on my goals during my stay at PJSM. I was also encouraged to write down my thoughts and emotions, and I poured out everything I could. Each session helped me learn more about myself. For the first time, I experienced what it meant to be truly heard, something very different from my home environment.
I asked if I could go to church, and the staff kindly brought me along. The service was conducted entirely in English, which I did not fully understand. Sitting there, I simply observed, listening quietly to the songs being sung. Although I couldn’t follow the words, I found a sense of peace in the music and the atmosphere.

During my pregnancy journey, I received deep emotional support from my counsellor, the case officer, and the staff. I was never judged for who I was; instead, I was genuinely appreciated, even for small acts like cooking and cleaning. That affirmation meant so much to me.
When the case officer asked me about the future of my baby, I said that I wanted to look after my child. She then asked who would be able to support me. I couldn’t answer right away; I needed more time to think and to discuss with my father. This was difficult because my father was far away and unable to visit me. The only way I could communicate with him was through the phone. The case officer also asked if I had any relatives in the city. I knew I had two aunts, my late mother’s siblings, but I had no contact numbers and no idea where they were
in Kota Kinabalu.

Through one-on-one sessions with my case worker, I was guided to see the realities and challenges of raising a baby. I came to understand that I had the right to keep my child, but the reality was overwhelming. I was underage and had no means of support. During that time, the case officer also helped me prepare for the SPM exam. I was given books to study and received tuition from the staff at the centre. Deep inside, I struggled between focusing on my studies and worrying about the future of my baby.

Eventually, I was admitted to the hospital, accompanied by the staff. All these experiences taught me to be patient with myself. I delivered my baby and was deeply grateful when my aunt agreed to care for the child. Often, I miss my baby and cry, but my aunt sends me photos, and I know my baby is being lovingly cared for.
I sat for my exam during the peak of my pregnancy, and each time I walked into the exam hall, I felt ashamed. Yet, the encouragement I received from the case officer and the staff kept me motivated. Between delivering my baby and sitting for the exam, I struggled greatly. I had to spend the whole day at school, and though I often felt exhausted, I reminded myself to stay strong. Continuing my studies was important to me, and I am deeply grateful for the support I received from the staff at the centre.
Alongside my pregnancy and exams, I am also thankful for the case officer who accompanied me to the National Registration Office to follow up on my documentation. The process was full of ups and downs, involving constant communication with my uncle to gather the necessary documents. Since I was staying at the centre, I was kept updated about what was happening with the JPN officers.
When I was told the investigation was over, I felt hopeful. Once again, the case officer and I went to the registration office, and I thought I would finally receive my documents. But I was told there is still another process to go through. I broke down in front of the officer, crying, because all I wanted was to go home and be with my sister. The officer reminded me to be patient. Holding back my tears, I realised I had no choice but to wait.

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