They didn’t mean to sleep. Fear kept them awake after the knocking stopped. But exhaustion won. One by one, the girls in Room 8 passed out.  

When they woke up, the room was too quiet.  

Then Kemi screamed.  

Dark, claw-like marks ran down her back and arms. Fresh. Angry. The skin around them was raised, like something had dragged nails across her.  

“Blood of Jesus!” Adaeze shrieked, backing into the wall. “Kemi, who do you this thing?!”  

Kemi stared at her hands, shaking. Her scar was darker than last night. “I… I don’t remember. I was dreaming. About a classroom. A chalkboard. Someone was writing my name over and over… Kemi… Kemi… Kemi Bankole…”  

The whole hostel was already in chaos. Screams echoed from the corridor. Room 3 said their cupboard was ransacked. Room 5’s textbooks were shredded like someone went mad with scissors. Room 10’s mirror cracked straight down the middle.  

Girls were packing bags, crying into phones. “Mummy come carry me abeg, Elegance get spirit!”  

Amaka was confused. She stared at Kemi. _I thought Kemi was the ghost_, she said in her mind. _So who did this to her?_  

Then Mrs. Ijeoma appeared. No limp today. No arthritis. She stood tall in the corridor, face like stone.  

“Attention!” Her voice cut through the crying. “Blessing from Room 7 passed away last night. The clinic says… an animal bite. Possibly rabies.”  

The corridor went dead silent.  

“Animal bite?” Fatima whispered. “Those marks no be animal na.”  

Mrs. Ijeoma’s eyes flicked to Kemi. Just for a second. “Kemi, clinic. Now. The rest of you, remain calm. Block every entrance. Block every small hole. Maintenance people will come to fix the hostel. Do not panic.”  

She grabbed Kemi’s arm. Not gently. Kemi looked back at Room 8 once, eyes wide, mouthing _help me_.  

By noon, half the hostel was empty. Girls had packed their bags and run home. Only the bravest — or the ones with strict parents — stayed.  

*4:00 PM*  

Amaka’s phone buzzed. The number from the 1973 magazine. Folake Ajayi.  

*Folake:* _Butterfly Park. 100 meters from your school gate. 4:30PM. 

Amaka couldn’t do alone. Not after Kemi. She decided to open up to Tolu first. Then they both went to Mrs. Ijeoma.  

When Amaka showed Mrs. Ijeoma the magazine photo of Kemi Bankole, Mrs. Ijeoma went still. Her eyes didn’t leave the face.  

“I knew her face looks familiar,” Ijeoma muttered. So quiet only Amaka heard.  

“Ma?” Amaka pressed.  

Mrs. Ijeoma’s face slammed shut. “Nothing. Don’t worry yourselves. Go. But be careful.”  

*Butterfly Park, 4:35 PM*  

Amaka lied. “Ma, I’m doing school history content for our media project. I saw you were Head Girl in 1973. You’re a legend.”  

Folake softened. They gist for a while — uniforms, nuns, morning drills. Then Amaka flipped to Page 6.  

“This prefect here… Kemi Bankole. She was beautiful. Do you know how I can reach her? Or her family? For the content.”  

Folake’s face fell. “Kemi?” She touched the photo like it would burn her. “Kemi was my best friend, dear.”  

Then she broke. Tearfully, she told Amaka everything.  

Kemi was brilliant. The Music teacher, Mr. Ade, loved her like a daughter. He taught her piano after school. But another teacher was jealous. She wanted Mr. Ade for herself.  

“She bullied Kemi for months. Called her a thief. A seductress. One day Kemi fought back. They got into a fight in Room 12. The teacher pushed her. Kemi hit her head on the bedpost. Died instantly.”  

Amaka covered her mouth.  

“Mr. Ade was heartbroken. He resigned that week. The wicked teacher was arrested but… her family had connections. She was released after 3 months. Kemi’s parents came to the school. They laid a curse. Said she would never know peace. Never marry. Never bear a child. And she would grow old watching the same halls where she killed their daughter.”  

Folake wiped her eyes. “I heard that till date she isn’t married. No child. And she still works in the school.”  

Amaka was shaking. “Ma… what was the teacher’s name?”  

Kemi’s voice was a whisper in Amaka’s head, but the words came from Folake’s mouth:  

“Ijeoma. Her name was Ijeoma.”  

Amaka’s eyes widened. Then she remembered this afternoon in the office. When Mrs. Ijeoma looked at Kemi Bankole’s photo and muttered:  

_“I knew it. Her face looks familiar.”_  

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