All shades Of Blue

~One~

~she showed up out of the blue~

Superstar footballer Esiri Dhalak has just been arrested.

Breaking news: Supereagle's most loved Esiri Dhalak would not be in tonight's game.

From fame to shame or from fame to frame.

"You're not my son! You belong to the devil, and your soul can never be redeemed!"

"Get out before I blow your brains out," the man screamed, pointing his gun at his son.

"You've killed your mother!"

Dion woke up with a gasp, a film of sweat coating his forehead and neck. Even though he sets the air conditioner in his room at the lowest and coldest temperature, his nightmares always make sure he stays hot.

The headlines flashed in his mind all day, and recently, it has started to haunt his sleep.

He wondered when he would be free from all of the memories.

He was free now. Yet the memories won't stay where they ought to?

In the past, that's where they should be, yet he kept reliving every single day of those three years since he got out and moved to his new home.

Dion kicked the duvet off himself and got out of bed. Throwing on sweatpants and a tee shirt, he ambled out of his room, heading for the gym.

It was all he ever did these days, workout until his muscles begged him to reconsider, which in most cases he never does.

As he walked down the stairs of his new home, the one he moved into three weeks ago, he noticed how dusty it had become but he didn't want to get a housekeeper because he wanted his space to remain private at least that way no one would cause him any more harm.

He needed to arrange his study.

Dion turned on the lights in the gym and immediately noticed the wall clock.

Of course, it was just 4 am. That was his regular wake-up time now. Deciding he just wanted to run to clear his head, he did a few stretches and then got on the treadmill.

Three hours later, when Dion stepped out of the shower, feeling fresh and super energized, he set out to begin his task for the day.

He had breakfast hurriedly and then grabbed a bottle of water, his phone and earphones, and he went into the room he wanted to arrange.

His study.

Since he moved in, he has been taking his time to set up each room one at a time. He did his bedroom first, then the kitchen, then the living room, and then the gym.

He still had the guest bedroom, the second bedroom upstairs, the laundry room, and his mini-court.

He sighed as he settled down to arrange the books on his new custom-made shelf. Most of the books were old, some of them from his mother's collection from fiction to nonfiction, biographies and autobiographies, life change and self-help books, journals, and memoirs Then he had his college books and a few others he had bought over the years.

He had barely gone halfway sorting the books according to authors for the fictional ones and according to sizes for the nonfiction, when his doorbell chimed.

Dion froze, his hand paused halfway to the shelf.

Who the fuck was that?

He didn't know anyone in this neighbourhood.

He got up and groaned when his muscles rebelled. He had developed a slight limp from resting on his feet when he sat with the boxes.

Dion looked through the window and didn't see anyone at first. He was about to return to his study when the bell chimed again and this time continuously.