Un-Clinically Diagnosed (Adeyemi Is Mad)

1

Samuel Duru's parents should've known something was wrong when, at the tender age of seven he began to show subtle signs of sociopathy. The very first major warning bell was when he insisted after coming back from school one day to announce his new name as Adeyemi.

"Dudu," his mother cooed as she sought out a way to approach the situation in a way his seven year old brain would comprehend. "You cannot answer Adeyemi because we are Igbo and that is Yoruba."

"What if I'm Yourba?"

"Then I would know. But I can assure you you are not, therefore you can not answer that name. Sorry baby, I don't make the rules." Mrs Samuel petted his head while Duru thought for a moment.

"And who makes the rules mommy?" He asked in return.

"God," Mrs Samuel said almost immediately. She was used to him asking questions she didn't necessarily want to answer.

"God?" He repeated and she nodded. "Then I do not care."

So Adeyemi he was from that moment on. His parents still called him Dudu, so did his grandparents and so forth. But as school he was Adeyemi. The very first act of defiance he had made in his life.

Private school was the best option for Adeyemi seeing as he was, to put it simply, neurodivergent. The first and foremost reason being that his parents were greatly affluent, having grown up the same, and the second was that stereotypically (as per the doctors advice too) public school could lead to an increase in one's violent tendencies.

But Adeyemi liked to pride himself on the fact that he wasn't a violent person. In his head he only got angry when provoked, and to add to that fact he never, and he meant NEVER hit females. Even if other people thought differently about his self acclaimed peaceful nature, he didn't care.

School came easy to him, the learning part. But something about having teachers tell him what to do never seemed to sit quite right with him. He had gotten into minor scuffles with some of his teachers but the worst of it all was his biology teacher, Miss Efemena. Most of the teachers knew when to stop, when to back off, but Miss Efemena never did. She would push and push and push till his back was laid flat against the metaphorical wall and his palms would itch to release his anger on her.

Not that he ever did, because again, he didn't hit females. But he sure had reached the last thread of his composure more times than once.

It was in Miss Efe's class that it all started.

Chrys Academy was known for having a large amount of students despite it's outrageous school fees. It was located right at the edge of the largest city Nigeria had to offer and thus many people clamored to enroll their children there.

The biology lab was where the Senior secondary III usually had their classes. Miss Efemena claimed it was so because that way the students could see firsthand the drawings and more visual representatives of whatever topic they were discussing at the moment while she thought, Adeyemi said it was because she was lazy.

"If we wanted to see drawings we could go to our textbooks, if we wanted to see lizards we can go outside, why should the ten year old taxidermy be our prime example?" He asked. Miss Efemena's mouth scrunched up and Adeyemi noted that her pasty lipstick broke out in little flakes.

He smiled at the wild imperfection on her face.

Outraged at his smile, she yelled, pointing out the door. "Get out. You can see yourself to the principal's office."

Wordlessly, still with a large grin on his face, Adeyemi slid out of his chair, his posse of friends merely glancing at him once before turning back to finish up their incompleted assignments before she got around to checking it.