The Diary Under My Bed

"My mother always told me that some changes come with secrets." The first thing i noticed about Greenfield University was the noise. Not the kind of noise i was used to back home—the sound of my mother's radio playing old Nigerian songs while she cooked, my father's voice calling my younger brothers, or the neighbor's generator disturbing everyone's peace. This was different. This was the sound of thousands of young people chasing dreams. Cars moved around the campus entrance. Students dragged heavy boxes behind them. Parents carried bags, mattresses, buckets, and everything their children would need to survive the next few years. Everyone looked excited. Everyone looked like they belonged. Except me. I stood there holding my admission letter tightly, staring at the huge university sign in front of me. GREENFIELD UNIVERSITY Three words. Three years of hardwork. Three years of dreaming. And possibly the beginning of the life my family had prayed for. "Amara" I turned around. My mother was standing beside me, adjusting the strap of my bag for the fifth time. "Mummy, I'm fine,"I laughed. She ignored me. "When you get to your room, call me." "I will." "Eat well." "I will." "Don't follow bad friends." "Mummy..." "And remember why you are here." That last sentence made me quiet. Because I knew exactly why I was here. My parents did not have everything. My father worked hard, but moneu was always something we had to carefully plan around. My mother sold clothes from a small shop, and everytime school fees came up, I saw the worry she tried to hide. They had sacrifice too much for me to fail. I was not just entering university. I was carrying their hopes with me. "I won't disappoint you," I whispered. My mother smiled, but her eyes looked slightly wet. "I know you won't." Finding my hostel was another battle. Greenfield University was bigger than I imagined. After asking directions three different times and nearly walking into the wrong faculty building, I finally found my hostel. Female Hostel C. The building looked old. Not scary. Just old. The kind of building that had watched thousands of students come and go. I dragged my suitcase upstairs, sweating by the time i reached my room. Room 214. I knocked. No answer. I tried again. Still nothing. "Maybe I'm the first one here,"I said to myself. I opened the door. The room was small. Four beds. Four wardrobes. Four study tables. Four lives about to collide. I chose the bed near the window. At least I would have fresh air. I had barely finished arranging my clothes when the door sudddnly opened. A girl entered carrying two large bags, a standing fan, and a pink suitcase that looked more expensive than my entire luggage.She stopped when she saw me. "Oh." I smiled. "Hi." She looked around. "You are my roommate?" " I think so." She dropped her bags dramatically. "God, please let me have good roommates this year." I laughed. "I'm Amara." She smiled. "Zara." Before I could reply, another girl entered. Unlike Zara, she came in struggling with one bag that looked like it had been through war. "Please tell me this is Room 214 because I have climbed these stairs three times." We laughed. "I'm Blessing." Then came the final roommate. She didn't struggle with bags. She didn't complain. She simply walked in, wearing a calm expression, holding her phone. "Hi." "Hi,"we replied. "I'm Tolu." And just like that, the four of us became roommates. Four strangers. Four different backgrounds. Four different stories. At the time, I thought our biggest problems would be sharing bathrooms, borrowing clothes, and fighting over electricity. I wad wrong. The first two weeks of university were a mixture of excitement and confusion. I learned quickly that university freedom was not as glamorous as people made it seem. Nobody woke you up for lectures. Nobody reminded you about you about assignments. Nobody cared if you attended class or slept all day. The freedom everyone talked about came with responsibility. And honestly? It was scary. Zara adjusted the fastest. Within days, she knew everyone's names. She knew which cafeteria sold the best food. She knew which lecturers were strict. She even knew the latest campus gossip. "Amara, you need to stop looking like you are going for a job interview everyday,"she told me one afternoon. I looked down at my simple outfit. "What is wrong with it?" "Nothing. You just look too serious." Blessing laughed from her bed. "Leave her. Amara came here to graduate, not to find a husband." "Who said I can't do both?" Zara replied. We all laughed. Those moments made university feel less lonely. Slowly, I started feeling like maybe I belonged. Until the night of the storm. It was a Thursday night. Rain attacked the hostel roof like it was angry. The electricity had gone off almost two hours earlier. Everyone was complaining. "My phone is dying." "I have an assignment." "I can't sleep in this heat." The usual hostel drama. I was trying to sleep when i felt a drop of water hit my face. I opened my eyes. Another drop. Then another. The roof was leaking. "Of course," I whispered. I turned on my phone flashlight and checked the ceiling. The leak was directly above my bed. I sighed. With no other choice, I started dragging my mattress away from the wall. That was when i heard it. Something fell. I looked down. A small brown notebook was lying on the floor. It was covered with dust. At first, I thought it was just an old student's forgotten notes. I almost threw it away. Almost. But then I saw my name written on the cover. Nneka. I don't know why my name made me stop. Maybe it was because underneath the name were words written in faded black ink. Words that made my stomach twist. "If you find this, don't trust anyone." I stared at the motebook. The rain continued beating against the roof. Something inside me said to leave it alone. But curiosity has always been my weakness. I opened it. The first page had a date. September 14, 2016. Then underneath: "Today I moved into Room 214. I thought this would be the beginning of the best years of my life. I was wrong." My heart started beating faster. I turned the page. "There is something nobody wants students to know." I swallowed. Another page. "If you are reading this, it means they never found my diary." Another page. "Please finish what I started." I was about to turn the page when I noticed something. The handwriting changed. The final sentence looked rushed. Almost like the person wrote it while afraid. "The person who destroyed my life is still here." Below it was one name. A name i recognized. A name that belonged to someone I had already met. My hands went cold. Because suddenly, the diary was no longer about a girl from ten years ago. It was about someone in my hostel. Someone close to me. Someone i trusted.