Writers 
We drove into the school, and I saw everything looking beautiful. It had very beautiful flowers and nice paintings. There was no student in the environment; everywhere was so big and beautiful. I was beginning to like it, but there was still a feeling in me I couldn't ignore—a strange tightness in my chest, half excitement, half fear.
We got to the administrative block, and then a tall, fair man asked, "New student?" My mum said yes, and he directed us to an office where I was registered. After that, Mum was given a form to fill since I didn't write the entrance examination. Later, I found out Mum knew the principal of the school personally, and she told her there would be no need for an entrance examination for me. I felt a little relieved, but also a bit cheated—like I hadn't really earned my place.
After all the process, I was given two pairs of uniforms, two day wears, and two outing uniforms. I was told when and where I should wear them. I was also given a timetable, and a hostel was assigned to me—the El Shaddai House. Before I forget to mention, my school is a Christian school. Mum thought it would be the perfect place for me. There was a zero-bullying policy and a very high standard. It wasn't what I thought.
My school had people that washed our uniforms. All we had to do was fold and drop them on our beds with a name tag, and they would be picked up by the laundry and washed. We only had to wash our inner wears. Good food was served at the dining hall—though not as good as the one Rose made, but it was okay. There was morning devotion every morning conducted by the hostel prefect, and on Saturdays by the house masters or mistresses after inspection. There was a routine and time for everything. It was quite exhausting at first, but I got used to it. The only time I had to take my happy pills was at night, before I slept. I just swallowed two or three before sleeping, letting the numbness carry me into the dark.
I had three roommates: Senior Aaron, who was in SS2; Senior Matthew, in SS3; and Ayomide, who is my classmate. Ayomide is a very nice boy. He taught me how to do things in order not to get into trouble with the teachers and security guards. We often went to class together and did everything together. Then I had another friend, Bethel. Bethel was my classmate. We met during meals and classes, and we became friends because she was friends with Ayomide.
One day, Ayomide asked me about the happy pills, and I told him they were drugs for anxiety disorder. He just believed me. Ayomide and Bethel were dedicated Christian kids, and they always talked about Bible stories, God, and how He came to die for us. I knew little about God because I barely went to church—Mum was always busy. Even at the chapel on Sundays, I was always lost when it came to the preaching part. It didn't make much sense to me. I was always lost when it got to religious things. I barely knew anything.
Somehow, Bethel and Ayomide noticed, and they took it upon themselves to teach me. Every Friday and Saturday, we had Bible study, and they taught me many things about God and Jesus. They told me about hell and heaven and how sinners would go to hell. One day, I asked them how I would go to heaven. They said I had to be born again. "How would I do that? I'm already grown," I asked, puzzled. They just laughed at me and said, "That's not it." I had to confess that Jesus is Lord and believe in my heart that He died to save me from my sins. Then we held hands, and Ayomide said a prayer, and I followed:
"Dear Jesus, I come before You today, just as I am. I ask that You forgive me my sins, and I acknowledge You as my Lord and Saviour. I believe that You died for me on the cross, and I receive You into my life."
And that's it. "You are now part of the family," Bethel and Ayomide said. I was amused—it's just so simple. I felt a strange warmth in my chest, like something had clicked into place.
We continued studying, and they taught me about God, how to live a holy life as a Christian, and the power of the Holy Spirit in the life of every believer. They didn't talk much on the Holy Spirit. I was understanding God, and I was enjoying it. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I belonged.
Later, one Sunday, the chapel president was teaching, and he said drug abuse was a huge sin against God. I have been taught about drug abuse in class, and I knew what I was doing. Bethel and Ayomide said if we want to go to heaven, we had to stop anything that is a sin against God. I want to go to heaven, but I want my happy pills too.
I was thrown into confusion. My heart felt like it was being pulled in two directions—one toward the peace I had just found in God, and the other toward the only thing that had ever made the noise in my head quiet. I sat there in the chapel, gripping my knees, trying not to cry. What if I couldn't have both? What if choosing God meant losing myself again? And what if keeping my pills meant losing my new friends—and maybe even my soul?
