SATAN Be Gone

I stayed in a room filled with addicts. Drug addicts to be precise. They smoke every night. I don’t know what they smoke. I know it isn’t cigarette. It doesn’t smell like cigarettes. Perhaps it was marijuana or heroine. I didn’t know. They always try to force me to join them but I know I won’t join them. I can’t picture myself with a cigar between my pink lips. They are going to turn black. I know I won’t join them.Moreover, there are pictures on my phone that prevents me from joining them. One, of a man looking haggard and unkempt. The man must be mentally derailed, I guess. There is another picture that shows blackened lungs with the caption effect of smoking. I didn’t t want to look haggard and unkempt. I didn’t want to be mentally derailed or have problems with my lungs, so I won’t join them. I always see Fola in those pictures. He is the leader of the addicts.
I came back to the hostel late that night as usual. I always come back late so that I won’t join in the smoking directly or indirectly. Directly , by joining them which is actually not feasible while indirectly , by inhaling the smoke that was been puffed. I didn’t go to the library as usual that day. I was hanging out with Yetunde; the new girl I had just found. We held hands and talked for hours under the moonlight. I cherished the moments we spent together. I was happy unusually. I walked merrily into the room and headed straight to the reading table. The addicts were not smoking now but the smell still lingered in the air even although they had sprayed air wick as camouflage . They were taking whiskey now and playing cards. I opened a novel and pretended I was reading it. I was still busy in my pretense when I noticed a hand on my shoulder.
“Take some whiskey man “, he said.
I didn’t even look at his face. I didn’t even bother to answer him. He was bringing the bottle near my mouth now. He tried to put some down my throat when I shoved the bottle away. The bottle landed with a thud and the contents were spilled all over.
I looked up at him now, he pulled me by my cloth until I was in a standing position. He slapped me across the face twice. He landed me a blow. My gum bled. He burst my pink lips.
I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t even make a single sound. I went straight to my bed. I tried to hold back the tears but I didn’t know when they left my eyes. They flow freely. I can hear his friends giggling and laughing. They were saying things I didn’t want to hear for I was sure they were words of mockery. I know they didn’t like me. They didn’t like me for reading too much. They didn’t like me for not taking drugs with them. I cried myself to sleep.
I woke up the next day feeling nerdy. My pink lips were still swollen, the lips Yetunde like. I don’t even bother to take a bath. I just put on my clothes and used a handkerchief to cover my mouth. I stepped out of the hostel without having a direction in particular. I kept walking straight until I hear a tradesman ringing at his bell. He keeps advertising his rat poison for sale. He keeps yelling at the top of his voice. I walked up to him and purchase six sachets. I start walking back to the hostel. I plan to poison the six addicts. I  will even watch them die.