When I was four I saw my neighbour get shot in the street, back then I was a Yellow and lived in a red neighbourhood, My Parents could not afford any other place.

 My mother went to my father and told him we need to move out, he said that we could not afford any other place that if we moved out we will end up in the streets we will forever be reds.

When I became six we stopped being “WE” it became only “ME” because “HE” killed “She”. One Day I heard them fight it was the usual they fought everyday scatters of words thrown in every direction.

-I want to leave

- You know we can’t afford another place

- I will stop, I don’t care I am better off dead anyway

- I don’t have time for this nonsense

- Do not leave I didn’t finish

- Move out of the way I have other things to do

-I told you I did not finish talking

-MOVE!!!

Everything after that became hazy ,a huge crashing sound then a thundering thud I heard my father screaming then wiping I hear the dial…….

-911 how can I help you.’

- My wife she is not breathing.

- Sir SIR are you there ……..??????

I entered the kitchen she lied in Grace as if in peace or that is at least how I would like to remember her. I knew she was dead, it was not my first time seeing a corpse but it was my first time to see a dead person I know, or knew.

 A person I loved, a person that loved me. First time to see my mother dead and the last time I guess.

I was yellow, then after her death I became red then after my father was convicted of manslaughter I turned to ROUGE. 

Within one year I lost my family, I lost my mother, I lost my name and became just another Rouge.

Rouge was like a punishment for me. It sounded like a curse for me “hey rouge”, “Little filthy rouge”, “what a poor rouge”, “Rude Rouge”. Until my social worker changed it into RED, Aiden Red.