🔥 GINA’S PLIGHTS: Episode Three 🔥
By the second week of Sandra’s absence, whispers filled the air at Crystal Heights College. Some said she had transferred again. Others thought she was sick. A few even whispered that she had disappeared entirely.
No one knew the truth. No one except Gina.
Sandra was not gone. She was there every night, waiting behind the curtain of sleep. She haunted the silence, her voice echoing in Gina’s head like a warning that never stopped.
Each morning, Gina woke up with new welts on her body—on her back, her arms, once even across her face. She had learned to hide them, to cover the pain behind a powdered mask and long sleeves. But fear could not be powdered away.
Her friends began to notice.
“Gina, you look...different,” Nkechi said one afternoon as they left class. “Are you sick?”
“I am fine,” Gina muttered, not meeting her eyes.
“You barely talk anymore. You do not even eat. Mr. Amos said he is worried.”
“I said I am fine!” Gina snapped. Her voice was too sharp, too loud. Nkechi stepped back, her eyes full of surprise and hurt. She turned and walked away, leaving Gina alone in the hallway.
Gina wanted to run after her, to apologize. But guilt was a heavy stone in her chest, and fear weighed even more.
That night, the dream returned.
The green torches burned brighter than ever. The hall was darker, larger, and colder. Sandra sat on the high throne, her crown glowing with silver fire. The shadows bound Gina’s hands with chains that burned her skin.
“I cannot return the book,” Gina cried. “You are gone. You have not come back to school. How can I find you?”
Sandra’s voice rolled through the hall, soft but merciless. “Excuses are the songs of liars. You think my absence frees you? Foolish child.”
She snapped her fingers. The shadows lifted Gina into the air. The whip appeared again, blazing with flame.
“Please!” Gina screamed.
The whip came down, slicing her stomach. Pain exploded through her body. She screamed until her voice cracked. The air filled with her cries, with the sound of burning flesh.
“Please, I will change,” she begged. “I will never hurt anyone again.”
Sandra did not speak. She only watched. The punishment continued until Gina collapsed, her tears mixing with blood.
When she woke, her sheets were drenched with sweat. Her lips were bleeding from where she had bitten them. Trembling, she stood before the mirror and lifted her shirt. The welts were there—deep, red, real.
The girl in the mirror was not the same. Her eyes were hollow. Her face pale. Her beauty, once admired by everyone, had faded into something ghostly.
By the tenth day, even the teachers noticed.
“Gina Okezie,” Mr. Felix said after class, concern etched on his face. “This is not like you. You failed your last test. Are you alright?”
She forced a smile. “Just tired, sir.”
But she knew the truth. Sandra’s absence was no accident. It was part of the punishment. She was forcing Gina to live in fear, to carry guilt like a second skin.
Every day, the cursed textbook sat in Gina’s bag, heavy as stone. She wanted to return it, to end it all. But Sandra was gone. Or so everyone thought.
On the twelfth night, the dream changed.
This time, Gina stood not in the throne hall, but in a distorted version of her classroom. The walls were cracked and endless, the air thick with fog. Outside the windows, there was no sunlight—only swirling darkness.
Sandra stood at the front, her face calm, her smile sharp.
“Class is in session,” she said softly.
Shadows began to rise from the desks; familiar faces. Michael. Nkechi. Chidera. Students Gina had mocked, hurt, or betrayed. Their eyes were hollow, their mouths twisted in grief and blame.
“You ruined me,” Michael’s shadow said.
“You laughed when I cried,” Nkechi whispered.
“You destroyed my chance,” Chidera hissed.
They stepped closer, their voices overlapping, their hands reaching for her.
Gina screamed, covering her ears. “No! I did not mean to! Please!”
Sandra’s voice cut through their chorus. “The seeds you planted have grown. Their pain is your harvest.”
The shadows lunged. Cold hands grabbed her arms and legs. Scratching, pulling, tearing. Sandra watched silently, flipping through her textbook as if reading a lesson aloud.
When Gina woke, her arms were bleeding. Her fingernails were cracked, her sheets torn. The scratches burned, and her breath came in sharp gasps.
By morning, she wrapped her arms in bandages and dragged herself to school, her mind a storm of fear.
And then it happened.
On the fourteenth morning, as Gina sat hunched at her desk, the classroom door opened.
Sandra walked in.
The chatter erupted. “She is back!” “Sandra!” “Where have you been?”
Sandra smiled gently and greeted the teacher. “I had to travel for family reasons,” she said, her voice light and sweet. She took her seat with calm grace.
But to Gina, that smile was a knife. Her hands trembled. The stolen textbook in her bag felt alive, vibrating faintly against her leg.
Sandra turned, her eyes meeting Gina’s. Her lips curved into a polite smile. But her gaze... sharp, knowing, endless—spoke in silence.
I never left you.
Gina’s breath caught. The air around her thickened. Her heart thudded like a trapped bird. She wanted to speak, to scream, to run, but she could not move.
She knew she had to return the book. But as Sandra’s smile deepened, Gina realized it would not be so simple.
Because this was not the same Sandra who left. And this time, she had come for more than a textbook.
To Be Continued ✍️ ✍️ ✍️
✨ #GinasPlights #DarkSchoolTales #SupernaturalDrama #AfricanHorrorStory #PsychologicalThriller #SuspenseReads #MysteryFiction #HighSchoolSecrets #GhostRevenge #FictionNigeria #WritersOfAfrica #ReadOnFacebook #FemaleRivalry #MindBendingReads #DarkFate #StorySeries ✨
By the second week of Sandra’s absence, whispers filled the air at Crystal Heights College. Some said she had transferred again. Others thought she was sick. A few even whispered that she had disappeared entirely.
No one knew the truth. No one except Gina.
Sandra was not gone. She was there every night, waiting behind the curtain of sleep. She haunted the silence, her voice echoing in Gina’s head like a warning that never stopped.
Each morning, Gina woke up with new welts on her body—on her back, her arms, once even across her face. She had learned to hide them, to cover the pain behind a powdered mask and long sleeves. But fear could not be powdered away.
Her friends began to notice.
“Gina, you look...different,” Nkechi said one afternoon as they left class. “Are you sick?”
“I am fine,” Gina muttered, not meeting her eyes.
“You barely talk anymore. You do not even eat. Mr. Amos said he is worried.”
“I said I am fine!” Gina snapped. Her voice was too sharp, too loud. Nkechi stepped back, her eyes full of surprise and hurt. She turned and walked away, leaving Gina alone in the hallway.
Gina wanted to run after her, to apologize. But guilt was a heavy stone in her chest, and fear weighed even more.
That night, the dream returned.
The green torches burned brighter than ever. The hall was darker, larger, and colder. Sandra sat on the high throne, her crown glowing with silver fire. The shadows bound Gina’s hands with chains that burned her skin.
“I cannot return the book,” Gina cried. “You are gone. You have not come back to school. How can I find you?”
Sandra’s voice rolled through the hall, soft but merciless. “Excuses are the songs of liars. You think my absence frees you? Foolish child.”
She snapped her fingers. The shadows lifted Gina into the air. The whip appeared again, blazing with flame.
“Please!” Gina screamed.
The whip came down, slicing her stomach. Pain exploded through her body. She screamed until her voice cracked. The air filled with her cries, with the sound of burning flesh.
“Please, I will change,” she begged. “I will never hurt anyone again.”
Sandra did not speak. She only watched. The punishment continued until Gina collapsed, her tears mixing with blood.
When she woke, her sheets were drenched with sweat. Her lips were bleeding from where she had bitten them. Trembling, she stood before the mirror and lifted her shirt. The welts were there—deep, red, real.
The girl in the mirror was not the same. Her eyes were hollow. Her face pale. Her beauty, once admired by everyone, had faded into something ghostly.
By the tenth day, even the teachers noticed.
“Gina Okezie,” Mr. Felix said after class, concern etched on his face. “This is not like you. You failed your last test. Are you alright?”
She forced a smile. “Just tired, sir.”
But she knew the truth. Sandra’s absence was no accident. It was part of the punishment. She was forcing Gina to live in fear, to carry guilt like a second skin.
Every day, the cursed textbook sat in Gina’s bag, heavy as stone. She wanted to return it, to end it all. But Sandra was gone. Or so everyone thought.
On the twelfth night, the dream changed.
This time, Gina stood not in the throne hall, but in a distorted version of her classroom. The walls were cracked and endless, the air thick with fog. Outside the windows, there was no sunlight—only swirling darkness.
Sandra stood at the front, her face calm, her smile sharp.
“Class is in session,” she said softly.
Shadows began to rise from the desks; familiar faces. Michael. Nkechi. Chidera. Students Gina had mocked, hurt, or betrayed. Their eyes were hollow, their mouths twisted in grief and blame.
“You ruined me,” Michael’s shadow said.
“You laughed when I cried,” Nkechi whispered.
“You destroyed my chance,” Chidera hissed.
They stepped closer, their voices overlapping, their hands reaching for her.
Gina screamed, covering her ears. “No! I did not mean to! Please!”
Sandra’s voice cut through their chorus. “The seeds you planted have grown. Their pain is your harvest.”
The shadows lunged. Cold hands grabbed her arms and legs. Scratching, pulling, tearing. Sandra watched silently, flipping through her textbook as if reading a lesson aloud.
When Gina woke, her arms were bleeding. Her fingernails were cracked, her sheets torn. The scratches burned, and her breath came in sharp gasps.
By morning, she wrapped her arms in bandages and dragged herself to school, her mind a storm of fear.
And then it happened.
On the fourteenth morning, as Gina sat hunched at her desk, the classroom door opened.
Sandra walked in.
The chatter erupted. “She is back!” “Sandra!” “Where have you been?”
Sandra smiled gently and greeted the teacher. “I had to travel for family reasons,” she said, her voice light and sweet. She took her seat with calm grace.
But to Gina, that smile was a knife. Her hands trembled. The stolen textbook in her bag felt alive, vibrating faintly against her leg.
Sandra turned, her eyes meeting Gina’s. Her lips curved into a polite smile. But her gaze... sharp, knowing, endless—spoke in silence.
I never left you.
Gina’s breath caught. The air around her thickened. Her heart thudded like a trapped bird. She wanted to speak, to scream, to run, but she could not move.
She knew she had to return the book. But as Sandra’s smile deepened, Gina realized it would not be so simple.
Because this was not the same Sandra who left. And this time, she had come for more than a textbook.
To Be Continued ✍️ ✍️ ✍️
✨ #GinasPlights #DarkSchoolTales #SupernaturalDrama #AfricanHorrorStory #PsychologicalThriller #SuspenseReads #MysteryFiction #HighSchoolSecrets #GhostRevenge #FictionNigeria #WritersOfAfrica #ReadOnFacebook #FemaleRivalry #MindBendingReads #DarkFate #StorySeries ✨
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