It was 3:27 in the morning.
Principal Mwakazi sat alone in his office. The only light came from the small desk lamp. The rest of the room was swallowed in shadows.
The school was silent, but his mind was loud.
He sipped slowly from a glass of whisky. His eyes were bloodshot. His face was dry like burnt maize husk. His coat hung on the chair, crumpled. The top button of his shirt was open.
He had just received the latest update from Kosgei.
Three girls they had abducted earlier had escaped too.
Three girls who could burn down everything he had built not just the school, but his entire empire.
He opened the drawer and removed an old, rusted key.
He stared at it for a long time.
That key opened Room 14. The forbidden room. The room nobody talked about.
Not even the teachers.
Before he was "Sir," Mwakazi was just James Mwakazi, a young man from Murang'a with a loud voice and a hunger for power. He studied education, not because he loved teaching but because it gave him a pulpit. A place to control.
He started as a high school CRE teacher. Girls liked his Bible verses. Boys feared his stick.
In every staffroom, he learned one thing:
"Schools hide a lot. If you can control the silence, you control the truth."
In his third posting, he got caught in a small scandal, a Form Three girl had accused him of "late night tutoring." The matter was "handled" parents paid, police silenced. He was transferred.
And got promoted.
He rose like smoke.
By the time he arrived at Situra High, he was a master of the game.
He changed the uniform contracts gave them to his cousin. Hiked the prices. Took 30% from every batch.
He took over the canteen. Installed a teacher as "manager" then took all the profits. He even started charging Form Ones for "desk registration" five hundred bob each.
No receipt.
No refund.
But the dirtiest business was the bursary list.
Each term, he'd handpick names. Half of them didn't exist. He'd send them to the County Office. Collect the cheques. Cash them through ghost guardians.
And then…
There were the girls.
The Room of Silence
Room 14.
It used to be a lab store. Now, it was his office within the office. Locked. Hidden. Feared.
Only a few knew what happened inside. Fewer lived to tell.
He would send "summons" slips to girls after evening prep. Usually weak ones those with broken homes. Or very bright ones those whose suspension would raise no alarm.
He'd offer promises. Or threaten expulsion. Sometimes both.
And once inside Room 14, all evidence disappeared.
There were stories.
One girl fainted inside and had to be rushed to hospital they said it was "malaria."
Another girl went mute for a week they called it "spiritual attack."
None of them came back to finish school.
But the staff said nothing.
Why?
Because Mwakazi controlled the board. He was friends with the area MCA. The PTA chair was his former classmate.
He knew how to choke the truth.
And now, things were slipping.
Seven girls gone.
A blog spreading faster than a wildfire in dry bush.
Kosgei had promised to "handle" them, but Mwakazi knew that time was not on his side.
What if the Ministry sent an inspector?
What if media picked the story?
What if the other teachers finally grew a spine?
He stood up and walked to the window.
The school compound was dark and quiet. The boys' dorm lights flickered. A stray dog passed through the gate.
He hated the silence now. And It was no longer power.
It was fear.
He walked to the cupboard and removed a brown envelope. Wrote in red pen:
"FOR FIRE ONLY IF THEY COME FOR ME."
Inside it was a list.
Names of girls he had 'disciplined.'
A copy of the bursary scam.
A USB drive with CCTV footage of Room 14.
Names of teachers who helped him.
And why did he keep it?
Because even snakes know other snakes.
If he went down, he wouldn't go alone.
Suddenly, a knock.
It was 4:11 a.m.
He froze.
Another knock. Then the door opened without permission.
It was Miss Mukami.
Her hair was messy. Eyes tired. Breath shaking.
"Mwakazi… I need to talk to you."
He frowned. "At 4 a.m.?"
"I know the girls escaped. I got a call."
His body tensed.
"I'm not here to fight," she said. "I'm here to warn you. You won't win this one."
Mwakazi stepped closer, his face dark.
"Careful, Mukami. You know what happened to the last teacher who crossed me."
"I do. That's why I recorded this conversation before coming," she said, patting her pocket.
She walked out before he could speak.
He stood frozen, his teeth grinding.
For the first time in many years… Principal Mwakazi felt powerless.