Caroline wrapped her arms around me. A simple hug that drains every distress out of you was what I needed.

"Thanks, Caroline."

"Hey, it's nothing, " she said as her long fingers stroked my hair. Warmth flooded through me. Feeling comfortable around someone was exquisite. It was a drug that kept you addicted. It kept you safe, yet safety was not really happiness, was it?

"Caroline, I'm not going to stop seeing Joan, " I said. "I don't care who's against me or what they would do to me. I just need to see her?"

"You don't care about your own safety?" she asked raising one blonde eyebrow up.

"Hell no. I've lived for fourteen years. That's more than enough for me, " I screamed.

"But Elizabeth, "  Caroline said. I didn't let her finish her sentence.

"I don't care if I'm surrounded by fire or shot to the ground, " I said. "I don't care. I love Joan and no one will break our bonds."

"Not even a death threat?" Caroline asked her blue eyes going wide.

"Weren't you listening to anything I just said. I'm not afraid of death."

"You were talking about your death, " she said. "I wasn't. I was talking about your girlfriend's. Would you risk her life? She's breaking the law too you know. She could be sent to prison."

"She wouldn't, " I snorted back. "She's too young for prison. And when we reach an age fit to be locked up, apartheid would have ended."

"Oh come on, be realistic."

"I am realistic. If you don't believe me, look around you. People hate it here. Governments can't be immune to the wrath of the people, " I said, yet, Caroline still looked dubious.

Her eyes widened even more. There was confusion, shock and disbelief sculpted on her pretty face. Yet there was something more. An emotion that was so powerful that no extent of control could extinguish. It was anger.

Ever since childhood, Caroline had more self-control than a strategist. Her good behaviour never got her into trouble. Did I think that she was a good little angel? No. She had desires that would rock the foundations of my parent's trust. Yet, she knew how to govern them. But even an angel like her couldn't suppress the anger she felt at this injustice. She couldn't suppress her humanity. Although she did try.

"Apartheid will never die."

"It's already dying, " I said looking Caroline in the eye. "Have you ever seen a shrivelled up old lady? She is wrinkled and weak but you know that she will fight to her dying breath. So will apartheid. It will fight. Yet, it will die."

Caroline gave up. She knew I was right. I let the sea of triumph wash over me. It felt nice to be wiser than your perfect older sister.

I stayed in my room all day. I was grounded. Or at least I thought so. My parents didn't speak much to me. Yet, that never stopped their eyes clinging to me whenever I passed them. The deep concern they showed annoyed me sometimes. Love was not something to be concerned about.

"I'm worried about Elizabeth, " I heard my mum say in a hushed voice to my dad. "She loves too blindly. And she trusts the wrong people."

I gritted my teeth. My love for Joan was not blind. She was beautiful and independent and strong and so much more than the rest of us were.

"Elizabeth was always too soft, " my dad replied. "Unlike Caroline, she was never cunning."

"Unlike Caroline, she has a heart," my mum snapped back. Why did she sound like she was defending me?

"Shut up, they can hear you."

However, my mum didn't care if anybody heard her. "She's a good girl, " she said. "And I'm talking about Elizabeth. She was far more intelligent and emotional and loving than anybody else in the family. Yet, we gave Caroline the preference. Cold, cunning Caroline, who could fake a smile that the world will love".

" I love Elizabeth too, " my dad whispered back. "I love her more than you ever knew."

"Yet, not as much as you love Caroline."

"No, my love for the two girls will never be equal, " my dad said, bringing tears flooding to my eyes. "I never loved Elizabeth as much as I loved Caroline, but I loved her more than Caroline".

My heart raced. My parents loved me more.

For fourteen years, I felt like I was in Caroline's shadow. Caroline who was more pretty, more well-mannered and more respectful than I was.

Yet, now my heart sank for her. My noisiness forced her into silence. My impulses made her practical caution seem like a tedious history lesson.

" I'm so sorry, Caroline, " I muttered to myself.

I knew that Caroline heard what my parents had said. They could be pretty loud people sometimes. And anyway, her bedroom was right next to theirs.

Yet, my parents conversation on me was far from over.

"If you love her, " my mum urged. "If you love her, then tell her the truth."

"Tell her the truth about what, honey? Her stalker?" dad asked. "She's an intelligent girl. She'll figure out who it really is someday."

"Someday?" mum said. "This has gone far beyond ordinary rivalry. This girl is angry enough to kill Elizabeth."

"She will never kill Elizabeth. She loves her too much. I think she is just doing it in Elizabeth's best interest."

"Urgh, I am tired of your defence against her. She is stalking Elizabeth. She stole her diary, threatened her and vandalised her room. That is not okay."

"Maybe we should just discuss this in the morning, " dad said.

"No, I will not. You have forgotten that I lost the one I once loved too. And all in the name of apartheid."

My dad said nothing. Like all politicians, he usually had a lot to say. Yet, he was silent. Perhaps, he knew that mum was right.

"I will march up to Elizabeth's room tomorrow. And I will tell her all that she needs to know."

"What will you tell her?" my dad asked before he let out a slow yawn. "What exactly will you tell Elizabeth?"

"The truth."