A seventh flaming rose

~ MILES' POV ~

As I drove back home alone, the strange moment that transpired between me and her flashed before my eyes.

"Who are you?" She asked after taking a few steps backwards.

"I don't understand," My eyes narrowed to slits at her sudden words.

"Why are you here?" She continued.

"Are you ok?" I moved closer to her but she equally drifted away.

"Don't come anywhere close," She held out her hand, her voice had turned somewhat shaky. "What do you want? What is your purpose?"

Her strange questions did nothing to ease the confusion that ran through my mind.

"If this isn't a dream, then tell me what it is," Her voice came out almost in a whisper.

"I have no idea what you're on about. Is something wrong?" I threw my arms and sighed.

Without a word more, she ran past me and made her way back to the party.

Still, I couldn't get her sudden change in actions out of my head. Why had she turned from all smiley to scared?

The fear that lingered in me, returned with full force. Something wasn't right.

It was already dark and fortunately, I was almost home.

Glancing at my wristwatch, I took note of the time as 8:20pm.

"Mum is going to be unnecessarily worried now," I sighed.

The drive lasted for another 20 minutes before I finally reached home.

It was a luxurious duplex that overlooked the picturesque landscape of Maitama, Abuja. Its captivating architecture blended with contemporary designs and elegance. The interior featured sophisticated furnitures while abundant light filled the space.

"I'm home," I announced once I walked into the spacious living room, loosening my tie immediately.

"Oh my baby is back! Why are you home so late?" My mum suddenly emerged from a door at one end that led to the kitchen, wearing an apron over her dress. She was an ivory-skinned woman and due to her nationality, her accent was still strong in Russian despite having been in Nigeria for 10 years.

"Good evening, mum and I'm not a child anymore," I shook my head. "Besides, it's quite early."

"Oh no, darling. Mummy knows best," She playfully tapped the side of my head. "By the way, I prepared your favourite, starch and banga."

"I can smell it already," I chuckled lightly.

"My fine son. Let me go finish up," She tugged at my cheek and blew me a kiss - typical my mum.

Before she could leave, I quickly asked about my dad's whereabouts.

"He's in his reading room. You know your dad and his books, five and six. He nor dey remember person for anything," She laughed, her russian accent only lessened whenever she spoke pidgin English.

"Alright. Let me go see him," I then went up the stairs at another end, which led to several other rooms and lobbies.

Getting to my dad's reading room which was more like a mini library that could mostly be found in fantasy movies.

The middle-aged brown-skinned man sat in front of his desk, glasses on, and a book his hands.

"You're back. How did it go?" He asked as soon as I walked into the room and shut the door behind me.

"Great. Good evening sir," I greeted.

"Good evening son," He returned the greetings.

Well, my father was a soft-spoken man. He wasn't a man of many words. Perhaps that was why I wasn't as attached to him as I was to my mum.

"I hope you didn't mess around," That stern voice of a typical Nigerian father, emerged.

"I laid low," I simply answered.

"Good," was all he said. Throughout our conversation, he didn't lift his gaze to him and instead, gave it all to the book in his hands.

"I'll head back to my room now," I pointed towards the door, already making a turn.

"Your eyes have seemed to get brighter, in a way. I wonder why," He pointed out before I could leave.

I didn't respond to his words and simply slipped away from his presence.

When I was born, I received expected reactions from my dad's family - typical reactions of Nigerians.

The colour of my eyes was their greatest enemy. It came off as strange to them since my mum nor my dad had eyes like mine. Funny how, they persuaded my parents to either dump me in some forest or kill me.

My mum didn't care about their claims that I was probably possessed by "water spirits" when I was in her womb because she was a hardcore lover of swimming.

But my dad, soft-spoken man that he was, took my mum's side and I was allowed to live. Despite his decision to take my mother's side, I doubt that he didn't think what his family said about me was true. If not that I looked like him, he probably would have accused my mother of infidelity.

He always pointed out stuff about my eyes.

"Can't you see things properly or is your vision equally blue?" Were his words whenever he was mad at me for not getting some things right.

"Maybe when I pluck those eyes of yours out then you will learn to understand that you are still under my roof."

Yes, he was soft-spoken but, out-spoken when it comes to things regarding my eyes.

A sigh escaped my lips. Thankfully, I was 18. Leaving this house anytime soon was already at the back of my mind.

I took off my clothes and wrapped a towel around my waist, prepared to go take a shower when my mum came into my room.

"You haven't still taken a bath yet? Food is ready o," She hmphed.

"I'll be fast about it," I assured her, my back turned to her.

For some reason, instead of her footsteps to grow distant, it came closer.

Suddenly, I felt her hand run down my bare back.

"Mum?" I called out, a little surprised.

"Miles..." Her voice turned shaky. "There's a seventh flaming rose."

My eyes widened as I rushed to stand in front of the mirror in my room. With my back facing it and my neck craned backwards, so I could take a look.

From the top of my back down to a little before my waist, were flaming rose tattoos that aligned vertically down my back. I was familiar with six of them but then, they had become seven.

And the seventh one appeared a little different from the other tattoos - It was a flaming rose with thorns.