Chapter 7: The Diary of the Dead

She sat at the edge of her bed, staring at the small, dusty diary in front of her.

She hadn't touched it yet.

She couldn't.

The air in the room felt too thick, too charged—as if something unseen was waiting for her to open it.

She swallowed hard.

The moment she had stepped foot into Saint Raphael's, she had told herself she wouldn't look back.

That she wouldn't let the past consume her.

And yet—

Here she was, holding the words of a dead woman.

Slowly, she flipped open the first page.

---

17th March 1978

It was a good day.

I love my students.

Ify exhaled softly.

For the first few pages, Miss Titi's entries were filled with joy.

SS2A made me proud today. We had an intense discussion on Things Fall Apart, and the girls didn't hold back. Chinelo was ready to fight Amara over whether Okonkwo was a tragic hero or just a foolish man controlled by pride.

Amara, of course, refused to back down. 'Aunty, he was a coward! He beat his wives, abandoned his son, and killed Ikemefuna because he was afraid of looking weak!'

Chinelo nearly jumped out of her seat. 'But he was a man of his time! If he showed weakness, the people would not respect him!'

Ify smiled faintly.

She remembered that debate.

She had sat right in the middle of it, laughing with the other girls as Amara's voice got louder and Chinelo's hands flailed dramatically.

In the end, I told them, 'Okonkwo's downfall wasn't just his pride. It was fear. The fear of being seen as less than what he thought he should be.'

Amara groaned. 'Aunty, so you're saying both of us are right?'

I laughed. 'That's the beauty of literature, my dear. There is no single truth.'

Ify let out a slow breath.

She could almost hear Miss Titi's voice again.

There is no single truth.

She turned the page.

And that was when the darkness started to creep in.

---

29th March 1978

I heard something last night.

I was correcting scripts when I heard footsteps outside my room. Slow. Deliberate. But when I checked, the hallway was empty.

Maybe it was my imagination.

Ify's fingers tightened around the book.

The next few entries were similar—small, strange occurrences.

I woke up at midnight to the sound of my door creaking open. But when I turned, it was shut.

One of my students refused to enter the classroom today. When I asked why, she whispered, 'Aunty, the air inside is not normal.'

I laughed it off, but I have to admit… the classroom has felt different lately.

Ify swallowed hard.

She had never noticed anything wrong with the classroom back then.

Or had she simply ignored it?

---

9th April 1978

Something happened today.

I walked into my classroom and found my blackboard covered in names.

Names I did not recognize.

Some were crossed out.

I asked the girls who wrote them, but they all looked confused.

'It was empty yesterday, Aunty,' Nkem said. 'Maybe the junior girls played a prank?'

But I wiped the board clean.

And this evening, when I returned… the names were back.

A slow, deep shudder crawled up Ify's spine.

She remembered that day.

They had arrived in class, chatting about nothing in particular—until they saw the board.

A strange, uneasy silence had fallen over them.

The names were written in thin, jagged handwriting.

One of the girls had muttered, "This thing no be joke."

Ify had assumed it was just some foolish prank.

But now, reading this…

She wasn't so sure.

Her breathing shallowed.

She turned the page.

---

13th April 1978

A girl came to my room tonight. I don't know her name. She was crying.

'Aunty, I no wan sleep for dorm,' she whispered. 'I dey hear am call your name.'

'Who?' I asked.

She just shook her head and sobbed.

I let her stay in my room.

At midnight, I woke up to find her sitting upright on the floor, her eyes wide with terror.

'He dey watch you,' she whispered.

Then she fainted.

Ify's hands went ice cold.

He?

Who was watching Miss Titi?

She turned the page with trembling fingers.

---

The handwriting was rushed. Uneven. Desperate.

I think I finally know who—

The writing cut off.

The rest of the page was blank.

A smudge of dark ink—or was it blood?—streaked the paper.

Ify's breath shook.

She was about to reveal something.

And then she disappeared.

Her fingers gripped the diary tightly.

Something deep in her stirred—an overwhelming sense of dread.

And then—

A loud, frantic knock shattered the silence.

Ify's head snapped up.

The knock came again.

Her heart pounded as she rushed to the door. Without thinking, she unlatched it and pulled it open.

A small figure stumbled inside—Adaora.

The girl was shaking violently, her nightgown slightly damp with sweat. Her eyes, wide and unfocused, darted around the dimly lit room like she expected something to follow her in.

"M… Miss Okonkwo…" Adaora's voice was barely above a whisper.

Ify shut the door quickly, bolting it behind her.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked, gently gripping the girl's shoulders.

Adaora tried to speak, but her lips quivered. Her small fingers dug into Ify's arm like a child clinging to her mother.

"I… I can't stay in the dorm," she whispered. "Something is following me."

A cold weight settled in Ify's chest.

She led Adaora to the bed and knelt beside her, holding the girl's trembling hands.

"You're safe here," Ify murmured, trying to keep her own voice steady. "Tell me exactly what happened."

Adaora's breath hitched. She clenched the fabric of her nightgown tightly.

"I was sleeping," she began. "Then… something cold touched me."

Ify's stomach twisted.

"Cold?" she repeated.

Adaora nodded frantically. "Like ice. It ran across my arm, and when I opened my eyes…"

She gulped hard, her body still trembling.

Ify's grip on Adaora's hands tightened. "When you opened your eyes… what did you see?"

Adaora's eyes welled with tears.

"A woman," she choked out. "She was standing at the foot of my bed."

A sharp chill raced through Ify's spine.

She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to stay calm.

Adaora's fingers tightened around hers.

"You're safe now," Ify whispered.

The girl nodded weakly, but her eyes kept flickering toward the door.

Ify helped Adaora lie down on the bed and covered her with a blanket.

She sat beside her, stroking the girl's back gently until her breathing slowed and she drifted into sleep.

But Ify did not sleep.

She sat in the dim glow of the candlelight, staring at the diary still lying open on her desk.

Miss Titi had been afraid of something.

And now, so was Adaora.

Ify exhaled shakily and looked toward the door.

For the first time since she returned to Saint Raphael's, she was certain she was no longer alone.