Secret for the Misery.

His hands were trembling as if the veins in them need force.

Also, his heart?— beating in unrhythmic thumps, too evident to even think about reading a few pressures in his dainty exhausted look.

On the off chance that God was mettle, Niyi had lost his confidence, for in the platter of his heart appeared to be without any follow.

He could never again grab hold of his cell phone after which he read that compromising message on his WhatsApp courier.

It was in a dim night, and the main appearing beam of light that flushed through the side of his room where he prowled came by means of his signaling, vibrating telephone.

He was by all accounts arguing for a Messiah, who knew, yet his lips were separating and meeting, articulating unheard words.


The furious thump kept, becoming fiercer than previously.

He gazed back at the ticking hands of clock on the divider, it was half past eleven.

'Karma has not discovered a mate this evening', he thought as he read the warning that cleared over the screen of his telephone:

'We're at your back, keep an eye out dude...'

The handle of the entryway began squeaking. In the event that there was any expectation, it was nothing than that the entryway would yank free soon.

Another warning cleared through the screen of his telephone:

'It's today around evening time, you can't simply escape it...'

Something found his hearing, he didn't know however. A quiet holler? A woeful cry? No, it was a trailing voice of misery.

'Ple-e-e-e-ase! the door...I had a nightmare...,' the voice was too cold to ever be heard obviously, it was blacking out.

'Bisola!' he shouted. Inconceivable.

It was his more youthful sister.