The days bled into each other, each one a mirror of the last—fear at dawn, hunger at noon, humiliation at dusk. For the juniors, sleep was no longer rest. It was a countdown to the next demand, the next slap, the next lost meal.
Kalu Egbe moved like a shadow, his eyes dull from exhaustion. He had learned to carry two belts—one real, one fake. He hid his real provisions deep beneath his mattress and learned to drink water slowly to silence the hunger.
Still, there was no escape from the seniors' rule. Each day brought new torments. Some juniors had developed silent signals—tapping bunk frames or whispering key words to alert others when seniors approached. But even with these small tricks, the fear never left.
One night, as the dormitory lay quiet, Kalu sat with Nedu and Fireboy near the broken window. Outside, the moon hung like a silent judge.
Fireboy spat into the dirt. "Na every night we dey fetch water. My legs don peel. If dem call me again, I fit slap person."
Nedu laughed. "You go slap Presso? I wan see that day."
Kalu sighed. "Even for dream, I no dey safe. Last night, I fetch water three times."
Fireboy's face hardened. "I dey plan something. Make dem try me again."
They fell silent. Inside the dorm, snores echoed, interrupted by occasional cries. A junior boy across the room twitched in his sleep, whimpering. Another boy sat upright, watching the door, unable to close his eyes.
"You dey fear?" Kalu asked softly.
The boy nodded. "Senior Big Mouth talk say him go deal with me. I no fit sleep."
Kalu understood. He had spent many nights waiting, fearing the moment when a senior would remember a threat and come for him.
The next morning, chaos erupted at the borehole. The pump had broken. The queue stretched endlessly, but no water came.
"Wetin go happen now?" a junior cried.
Seniors appeared, barking orders. "No water? Una dey joke? Go find am! Pond, gutter—anywhere!"
Juniors scattered, some with empty buckets, some with tears. Some ran to the nearby stream, braving thorns and mosquitoes just to fill one bucket. Others stood helpless, knowing they would face punishment for failure.
Kalu and Nedu stood watching the madness. "This school dey mad," Nedu muttered.
Kalu whispered, "Nna m ichi oke... this one pass suffer."
Back in the dorm, juniors returned with dirty water, only to be beaten for bringing 'nonsense.' One boy tripped, spilling his bucket, and was kicked until he could no longer stand.
That evening, a new rumor spread like fire.
"Dem say principal dey come tomorrow. New one. Tough one."
"Who tell you?"
"One SS3 boy. Him say na ex-soldier. Him dey bring staff."
Fireboy grinned. "Good. Make we see if him fit beat Presso."
Efosa shook his head. "Na lie. Na every term dem dey talk this thing. Na film trick."
But Kalu wasn't sure. Old FGC had swallowed too many promises, too many weak principals. Yet something felt different.
He lay in bed that night, eyes on the ceiling, wondering—would this one be different?
The shadows crept, but for the first time, they seemed to shift.
To be continued...