Amanda's Diary

— October 14th
My name is Amanda. Six months ago, walking through the grand gates of the Faculty of Law felt like stepping onto holy ground. I had my black-and-white outfit crisp, my textbooks heavy, and a head full of high ideals about equity, rights, and upholding the law.
I thought the hardest thing about year one would be surviving Constitutional Law or pulling all-nighters for exams. I was wrong.
The real test isn't in the lecture halls; it’s in what happens after the lights go out. It’s in the closed-door offices where grades are traded for dignity, in the bloated budget reports for broken laboratories that never get repaired, and in the dark hallways of the girls' hostel where screams are swept under the carpet before dawn.
They think no one is keeping score. But every secret, every name, and every dollar pocketed is going right here. Welcome to my diary.