Idk why, but Morgan Harper Nichols' Storyteller is stuck in my head rn. Like, right now Thursday 5th October by 9:27PM.
Sha, enjoy ❤️✨
THIRTY FOUR
LARISA
I glanced around once, twice, three times to make sure the room was empty before I stepped in and quietly shut the door behind me. However, I left it slightly ajar so I didn't get locked in, just in case any official was locking hostel doors.
As expected, the room was empty. Everyone was out for breakfast already. I'd hid and waited patiently in the natatorium – which was meant to be out of bounds for us – all morning, waiting till I was sure everyone would be in the dining hall. I checked the time on my phone, it was 10:18AM. I only had a few minutes to gather my things and leave before people started trooping back into the room.
How to deal with your problems? Run away.
I walked straight to my bed right next to Iris', sighing as I remembered how excited I was to be here, practically bedside mates with Ziora Barlowe. I crouched down to remove my suitcase from the wardrobe when Iris' purse on the floor caught my attention. I contemplated picking it up before anything could get missing, but I intended my visit to this dorm room to be as unnoticeable as possible, so I figured I should leave the purse on the floor where it was. But then, something caught my attention again. It was a white strip just peeking out of the bag.
What was it that killed the cat again?
I had no idea when I crawled towards it, picked it up, and stared in absolute astonishment at the two vertical lines running across the strip. I knew exactly what it was, alright. I'd worked in a lab for some time last semester.
Iris was pregnant? How? Whose baby was it? Jared's?
Maina?
Hurriedly, I stuck the strip back into the purse, adjusting it so it can look untouched, then sat on the floor next to my bed. I'd suddenly lost the strength to pack my things and get the heck out of here.
How did we come this far?
I remembered the first day of camp, meeting Ziora, Funke and her gang, sitting at the table with the rest waiting for food. I sighed, thanking God silently for her life, when I remembered Willow's accident on the second day of camp. I wondered how many of the others thought, like Maia, that I cried on that day just to garner Chimdindu's sympathy without knowing what seeing another suicide could do to me.
They didn't know that the only reason Pastor Adenekan and his wife took me in was because I was a traumatized little kid who'd sat and watched her own mother take her own life and was unable to say a word for the next year or two. They didn't know that the Pastor could easily kick me out at any time if I ruined his reputation.
I sighed, remembering the look on Evan's face when I slapped him. Maybe I shouldn't have. That was the beginning of all these issues. I only did this thing when I was stressed. Unfortunately, one day of stress was enough to be caught and blackmailed and possibly publicly humiliated. It wasn't my fault, but I couldn't tell anyone about it. I'd rather die.
I didn't even realize I was crying until I saw a teardrop fall on my jeans. What did I do to make Maia hate me so much? Why was Evan so wicked to me? I didn't understand anything, so I cried some more, resting my head on my knees.
YOU ARE READING
𝐈𝐧 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬
Teen FictionIt was supposed to be a mid-year getaway for influential teenagers or children of rich parents from all parts of Nigeria. It was that annual summer camp which everyone above the age of sixteen looked forward to attending every year since its incorpo...