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Dive in people....

𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐋𝐀 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐒
⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊

It had been a week since the whole drama exploded. A week of whispers and unending memes about her.

A week of me avoiding the school like it carried the plague.

But today, I was done hiding.

I was going to walk through those school gates like she owned the place.

Like nothing ever happened.

And Sonia? That self-righteous little snake? She was going to hear it.

I wore my perfectly ironed her uniform to crisp perfection, slipped on her spotless white socks, and polished black loafers.

I strutted to my dresser for the final piece of her uniform...

Then stopped.

My eyes landed on the empty space where my prefect badge used to sit.

Right!That stupid Mrs. Chinaza had stripped me of it. Publicly. Brutally.

My jaw clenched. My chest tightened. Just the memory of it made me want to break something.

I inhaled slowly, shaking the rage off the rage off my shoulders.

They think that it’s over? Not all all. I'll show them one by one.

I descended the stairs like a queen returning from exile, heels clicking softly on marble, and made my way to the dining room.

I was expecting silence, maybe just my sister.

Instead my parents were both there. Sitting. Waiting for me.

And so was Flora.

I scanned the room slowly. Something wasn’t adding up.

First of all, my parents weren’t supposed to be home until next month. They’d said they’d be in Port Harcourt handling some business.

So why are they sitting here like something bad has happened?

“What are you guys doing here so early? Why aren’t you in Port Harcourt?” I asked, my voice a mix of confusion and suspicion.

My mum — sharp-tongued, no-nonsense, and Yoruba to the core—didn’t skip a beat. “Is that the ‘Good morning’ you’re meant to greet us with?”

I blinked, snapping out of my irritation.

“Good morning,” I muttered.

Her eyes swept over me from head to toe like a scanner. “Better. Now, where do you think you're going dressed like that?”

I paused. I looked down at myself —neatly pressed uniform, socks white enough to blind someone, everything perfect. It was obvious. “I’m going to school ma,” I added, trying not to sound annoyed.

My father finally spoke, his voice like steel. “The same school you’ve been suspended from?”

The words hit like a slap.

I felt my stomach flip. Rage filling my system.

“What do you mean suspended?” My voice shot up, sharp and trembling with fury. “I only took a break from school because the students were bullying me. Is that why they want to suspend me?!”

My mother turned to me, arms crossed, voice dangerously calm. “They are bullying you? Or you’re the one doing the bullying?”

I blinked.

“You want to sit there and lie to my face? So forging DNA results, trying to destroy that Sonia girl’s image, harassing her day and night—that’s not bullying?”

My mother’s voice rose with every word. “Don’t worry, your sister has already told me everything. How you’ve been disturbing that poor girl and won’t let her rest!”

I spun around to face my sister munching her cereal, eyes blazing. “Are you mad? Are you stu—”

“Mind your tongue!” My mum snapped, cutting her off with the speed of thunder. “Don’t you dare use abusive words on your sister in my presence. I will reset your mouth with one slap, and your brain will follow.”

I stared at my sister like she was a stranger, like she was an enemy. There was no guilt in her eyes. No regret. Just calm, calculated disappointment, like she hadn’t just thrown me under the bus.

She had the nerve to speak.

“Florence, I’m genuinely worried about your behavior,” she began, tone sharp but laced with concern. “It’s becoming something else these days. I had to tell Mum and Dad. You honestly need help. The amount of hate you carry around... it’s not healthy.”

I didn’t say a word, I didn’t have to anyway. The side eye I sent her sister was sharp enough to slice bread.

But I didn't keel quiet because i agreed with what she said, not even close.

I kept quiet because I knew the moment my mouth opened, my mother’s slap would land on my cheek faster than my thoughts. And right now, I needed composure more than comebacks.

Then, my father’s voice cut through the tension like a cold blade.

“I know things haven’t been easy since the incident, the one from a few years ago.”

I stiffened.

That incident was a no-go zone in this house. My parents never wanted anyone to talk about it, not even the maids. So I was surprised he was talking about it.

“But now that you’ve seen the daughter of the man who caused it,” he continued, “you’ve decided to project all your anger onto her. That’s not right. It’s not fair. And it’s not going to continue.”

I looked away, my chest burning. So this is what it’s come to. Justice not being served.

My dad reached for something on the table — a folded sheet of paper I hadn’t noticed it until now. He held it up.

A flyer.

EDISON'S CAMP FOR TROUBLED KIDS
Building Character. Rebuilding Lives.

My heart dropped.

“You’ve been suspended for three weeks,” he said firmly. “And I’ve found something meaningful for you to do with your time.”

He placed the flyer gently in front of me like it was an offering.

But to me, it felt more like a punishment.

This is who you’ve become ─ a case, a problem, a psycho, a mad woman.

The silence in the room was deafening. Even the clink of Flora’s
spoon against her cereal bowl sounded offensive.

So this is it? I thought. They are just disregarding me.

“So basically what you people are trying to say is that I’m mad, right?!”

I sprang up from my seat, hands trembling with rage, voice shaking the silence of the room.

“Say it with your chest! That your first daughter has finally gone off the rails, abi?!”

My father didn’t even flinch. He just sighed deeply, like she was confirming everything he already feared.

“If you don’t attend that program,” he said, looking me dead in the eye, “I fear you might actually become one.”

Her mother just shook her head slowly, face carved in disappointment.
“This is exactly why you need help.”

“Florence, it’s for your own good,”
Flora added gently, her voice calm like she didn’t just betray me twenty minutes ago.

That was it.

That. Was. The. Breaking. Point.

Something deep inside me snapped. A switch flipped. My whole body went cold and hot at the same time.

I turned to Flora with venom in my eyes and a smile on my lips—the kind of smile you see on villains right before things go left.

“Ah. So you’re a saint now, abi? Madam Flora of Saintville. You think you’re holy because you ratted me out?”

My voice dripped with sarcasm as i clapped slowly, mock-applauding her.

“Congratulations o, perfect daughter. You finally secured Best in snitching. Shall we give you a badge?”

I let out a cold, twisted laugh—one that didn’t even sound human to me.

“You think I’m the problem? Me too, I can snitch. Abi snitching dey run in the family now?”

I turned to my mother, my eyes locked like a sniper taking aim.

“Mummy, did you know that your so-called angel—your precious Flora—is no longer a virgin?”

The room went silent. Oxygen left the house.

Flora gasped.

“Long story short sha,” Florence continued, voice sweet and deadly, “she gave it to one useless boy, and now they’re inside one yeye situationship. They don’t even know if they’re dating or confused.”

Her mother’s spoon dropped from her hand. Her father sat up straighter.

Flora looked like the ground should just open and swallow her.

Florence leaned back slightly and folded her arms, satisfied. “You see? Nobody holy pass.”

“So if you want to pin me as a problem, as the daughter with the tendency of becoming a billion don't forget you have a daughter that will soon go into prostitution.”

“Don't talk to your sister like that, I'll not warn you again o.” My mum said looking at me.

“Mummy what is the problem na? when she was saying bad things about me you didn't even take my side, you just believed her. Now you don't want to believe my own, it's no problem sha. Thank you for showing me that favoritism runs in this family.”

“That's enough young lady! Pack your bags we're leaving this morning to Lagos to attend your program.” My dad says.

“Okay na senior man, I dey come, no vex.” I said sarcastically.

“I hope you all sleep well at night.” I then eye Flora.

“Especially you baby sis, I'll miss you.” I blow kisses at them.

I walked out on them with a shattered dignity and ego but one thing didn't go away.

The Spite!!!

It has been always there and always will...

•••••••••

𝐓 𝐇 𝐈 𝐑 𝐃 • 𝐏 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒 𝐎 𝐍 • 𝐏 𝐎 𝐕
⚋⚛︎⚋⚛︎⚋⚛︎⚋⚛︎⚋⚛︎⚋⚛︎⚋⚛︎⚋⚛︎⚋⚛︎

EDISON'S CAMP FOR TROUBLED KIDS.

After spending two hours on the flight, they were finally here.

The car pulled up to a large iron gate, creaking open like the entrance to a horror movie.

If Florence hadn’t already mentally checked out, she would’ve made a sarcastic comment about how the place looked like a mix between a prison and a church retreat. But she was tired.

Tired of the road, tired of her parents and tired of being labeled “troubled.”

She just wants justice.

The sign above the gate read:
Edison’s Camp for Troubled Kids
“Building Character. Rebuilding Lives.”

Lies. Mtchewwww.

They were rebuilding nothing. Just dumping problematic kids in the bush and hoping for miracles.

Florence stepped out of the car, wearing a hoodie over her school uniform skirt, sunglasses on, lip gloss popping. She wasn’t about to let these therapy camp losers see her sweat.

The air smelled like pine needles, disappointment, and trauma.

A woman approached them—tall, smiley, way too enthusiastic early in the morning. She wore a khaki vest with the camp logo and some suspiciously clean sneakers.

“You must be Florence!” she chirped.
“We’ve been expecting you.”

Expectations ni.

Florence gave her a once-over and popped her gum.

“That’s cute. Hope you weren’t expecting me to come with a friendly smile and a gratitude letter.”

Her dad shot her a warning glare, but Florence didn’t care. What were they going to do? Ship her to another worse camp?

The woman, whose name tag read Ms. Ebube – Behavioral Coordinator, just smiled tighter, like she’d dealt with ten other Florences that morning already.

“Well,” Ms. Ebube said cheerfully, “let’s get you settled in. Your cabin is in Block C. Girls' wing.”

As they walked deeper into the campgrounds, Florence noticed the other kids. Some sat under trees, writing in notebooks. Others were jogging laps. A group sat in a circle doing trust falls. One boy with bleached hair and a nose ring watched her as she passed. He winked. She rolled her eyes.

The camp wasn’t huge, but it was organized: dorms, cafeteria, "healing zones" (whatever that meant), and a strict schedule posted on every notice board.

Lights out by 9PM.

No phones.

Group therapy every morning.

Mandatory journaling.

No fighting (strike = expulsion).

Smiling encouraged.

Florence gagged internally. She wasn’t here to bond or heal. She was here because everyone in her life decided she was broken and needed 'help'.

They arrived at her cabin. Block C, Room 7. Small, neat, two bunks. Apparently, she had a roommate.

“You’ll be sharing with Imani,” Ms. Ebube said. “She’s... spirited, like you. You two should get along well.”

Florence rolled her eyes.

Everyone get spirit, what's there?

Florence dropped her bag on the top bunk and turned to her dad.

“You can go now,” she said flatly.

Her dad looked at her like he wanted to say something meaningful. Something fatherly. But all he said was...

“Make good choices.”

Then he left.

The door clicked shut.

Florence sat on the bed and looked around. Her new prison.

She sighed, pulled out her lip gloss, reapplied, and whispered to herself:

“Let the madness begin.”

*******

A/N

It's my birthday!!!! 😝❤

So take this as a gift from me to you.

That's all I have to say.

Byeeeee

Enjoyment is waiting for me.