12
Mum has ordered me to close the curtains and blinds in every room. As if this house didn’t already feel like a dark and claustrophobic prison. Now, the only light in the living room is coming from the TV and the small lamp on the coffee table.
Leaning back on the couch, Mum holds the bottle of warm milk up to Ben’s mouth. As I’m sitting on the armchair, staring at the baby, I can’t help but wonder if Mum is thinking rationally, and if maybe I should just call the doctor myself.
But how can I? She’s right; he will be treated like a celebrity freak. I mean, regular babies are not blue, they don’t have yellow eyes, and they certainly don’t go up in smoke in the sunlight. The last thing I need is a picture of him floating around the Internet. What the hell would everyone think?
I’d neve
