By Joy Ifunanya Chukwukeluba
What happened that night is something I will never forget. It changed all of us. It shook our entire lodge. And for me, it left a scar I will carry for life.
There were three of us in our room — myself (Joy Ifunanya), Nonye, and Jacinta.
Earlier that day, we had taken our phones to an electrician's shop to charge. But before we returned that evening, the man had already closed and gone home with our phones still inside. We returned to the lodge angry and frustrated, wondering how we would survive the night phoneless.
After dinner, we lay on the bed talking about random things, just trying to pass time. Then, around 9pm, a loud, aggressive bang shook our door.
“Who is knocking like a mād—?” Jacinta began to say as she stood up.
But before she reached the door, a loud male voice thundered:
“OPEN THIS DOOR NOW OR ELSE!”
Our hearts dropped instantly.
Jacinta didn’t hesitate — she ran back and jumped inside the wardrobe. I fell off the bed, trembling uncontrollably.
Only Nonye, the bravest among us, managed to walk shakily toward the door.
The moment she opened it, three huge men forced their way inside. Dressed in black overalls, they looked like shadows in the dark.
“On your face!” one of them barked.
Nonye and I immediately dropped to the floor.
Silent prayers filled my mind.
“God, please don’t let them harm us…”
They ransacked our room, breaking bottles, smashing our ceramics, scattering our belongings recklessly. We lay there, helpless, listening to the chaos around us.
After what felt like a lifetime, they stormed out, slamming the door with such force that I thought I had been shot.
When we were sure they were gone, Nonye rushed to lock the door. All three of us exhaled loudly, trying to release the fear that had choked us.
Perfume bottles lay shattered on the floor, bags were flung everywhere, and the room smelled of mixed fragrances and fear.
“Thank God they didn’t harm us,” Nonye finally said.
“Thank God our phones weren’t here,” I muttered.
“Thank God they didn’t come to the wardrobe!” Jacinta cried, stepping out, still shaking.
Suddenly, we heard loud commotion from outside — girls screaming and crying. We ran out and met pure chaos.
The robbers had broken into three other rooms, carting away seven gadgets.
“My phone! I’m dead!” wailed Mirabella, the only girl in the lodge who had an iPhone.
“You should be happy you were not r@ped,” another girl muttered.
“Let someone inform the police,” someone cried.
“Police kwa? What can they do?” another replied.
Then Deborah, a fresher, spoke with unexpected confidence:
“No need to inform the police now. We will recover our things by tomorrow.”
Everyone stared at her in confusion.
“What do you mean?” Jacinta asked.
One girl hissed. “She’s mocking us because they didn’t steal from her.”
But Deborah calmly responded, “And who told you nothing was stolen from me? My laptop is gone.”
Her roommates confirmed it.
“So how will we recover our things?” another girl asked.
Deborah lowered her voice and said something that froze all of us:
“I know the robbers.”
Shockwaves rippled through the corridor.
“What??” everyone chorused.
Mirabella rushed to her, desperate. “You know them? So I can get my phone back?!”
“I don’t know all of them,” Deborah said. “But I recognized one. He lives on the same street as my ex.”
“Please, how do we get them?” Mirabella cried.
“Don’t worry. Don’t tell anyone. Tomorrow morning, I’ll go to the police station and take them to his house,” Deborah assured us.
For the first time that night, we felt hope.
But by morning, that hope turned to horror.
We woke up to a disturbing moan outside. We rushed out to see what was happening — and there she was:
Deborah, lying motionless in front of the bathroom… dried blood around her mouth.
She was gone.
The girl who knew the truth.
The girl who could have helped us reclaim everything.
The girl who said she recognized one of the robbers.
That night, fear visited our lodge…
But by morning, death did.
A night we will never forget.
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