The campus at night had two faces. One belonged to the dreamers—the ones hunched over books, chasing futures written in ink. The other belonged to those who had stopped chasing.

Gamicit stood between both worlds.

She arrived at the University of Jos carrying her parents’ hopes like a burden. A Tarok girl with neat cursive and quiet eyes, she had been the type to sit in the front row, answering questions before they were finished being asked.

Then she met Juliet.

Juliet moved through life like she had mastered every consequence and found it unimpressive. She smoked, drank, and laughed with the kind of ease that made Gamicit curious. “No be sin if you enjoy your life,” Juliet would say, pressing a cup into her hand.

The first sip was bitter. The second, warm. The third, necessary.

The first class she missed felt like freedom. The second, a habit. Soon, she was skipping assignments, then entire weeks. When she failed Corporate Finance, Dr. Aiyeola made the problem disappear. He was older, married, and powerful. He didn’t ask for much—just obedience.

She thought she had control.

The nausea came first. Then the panic.

Juliet exhaled a ring of smoke. “Why you dey shake? Na normal thing.”

She knew someone. A woman behind a locked door. It would be quick.

The pain was a scream locked in her throat. Blood. Metal. A terrible silence.

After, Gamicit lay curled on Juliet’s bed, the smell of antiseptic and something rotten filling her nose. Something inside her had changed. A quiet kind of emptiness, like she had been erased.

She did not return to class. Dr. Aiyeola noticed.

"You’ve changed," he said. “I can help you.”

She left before he could say more.

The nights grew wilder. A party at the staff quarters turned into a raid. Gamicit ran, Juliet’s laughter reckless behind her. They hid in the shadows, breathless. A boy she barely knew grabbed her hand.

“This way.”

Her heart pounded. The thrill was familiar, but this time, it felt different. It felt like drowning.

The decline was rapid. First, the weight loss. Then, the coughing.

Juliet had her own demons. One evening, Gamicit found her curled on the floor, shaking. The drugs had taken something from her.

“We need to leave this life Julz,” Gamicit whispered.

Juliet laughed, but her eyes glistened.

The last time Gamicit saw Juliet, it was in a hospital. An overdose. The doctors tried, but she was already gone.

Gamicit sat by her bed, staring at the shell of the girl who once danced through the nights like she was untouchable.

“You promised me,” she whispered. But promises meant nothing to death.

The funeral was quick. Juliet's parents were quiet, the kind of quiet that held too much grief.

Days later, Gamicit stood outside Naraguta hostel, staring at the building that had swallowed them whole. The walls still smelled of smoke, of whispered secrets, of lives unraveled.

Somewhere inside, another girl was laughing, taking her first sip.

She turned and walked away.