Excerpt: Traffic Lights

“We always wanted two children, so that they could keep each other company. But you came. And we were too scared to try for another one. In case it was red, too.”

Amber stared into the mirror, where her mother’s reflection was clear even in the dimly-lit room: the sad shape of her mouth, the skin around the eyes beginning to crease, the wrinkling frown on her forehead, the hardly noticeable first dust of white hairs amidst the dark brown, the light green aura shimmering around her whole profile. It was in horrible contrast to Amber’s own aura: a brutal dark red gleam, like blood, like hatred.

Amber hated that she thought of asking the question in the first place (Why do I have to be so lonely? Why didn’t you have another baby after me?), because the answer should have been obvious, and she could see it was hurting her mother. She couldn’t turn round and look her mother in the eye-- it was bad enough making eye contact with the reflection in the mirror. Even though she wanted to give her mother a hug and tell her that it was going to be all right, the terrible guilt swimming and flipping around her chest was making her sick, choking up her throat and preventing her from speaking. Because it was her fault. Her fault for being red.