I watched the ink drip off my walls. It was a thick, sickening blue that made me want to scream at the very sight of it. Yet, I continued to stare at it. I preferred the sickly navy ink to the outrage on my parents face.

"Elizabeth, what has gotten into you?" I heard them roar.

"Mum, Dad, it was Rachel. She's the one who has been writing on my wall and..."

"Oh, we know who it is all right, " said my dad, his voice growing hoarse. "And all she was doing was looking for your best interest. That's what she has always been doing. Yet, you still continue this_ this..."

"Dad chill, " I said, looking at Caroline for help.

"Listen, Dad, I know Elizabeth isn't the nicest and she doesn't really bring home the best report card, " Caroline said as she flashed me a helpful smile. "But she deserves your kindness. She's your daughter."

Somehow a reminder that I am not as good or as smart as Caroline was like a thousand blows in the stomach. Apparently, it reminded my dad too.

"Honestly, Candice, " he said to my mum. "The decision to have a second child was the worst one we've ever made."

My mum, however, didn't even answer my dad. She just looked at me. Her bright blue eyes zoomed into mine.

"Elizabeth, my love, what have I thought you all these years? Be careful who you confide in And be careful in who you suspect."

I looked back at her. What was my mum trying to tell me? That I shouldn't have trusted Rachel in the first place? It seemed pretty obvious, wasn't it?

Be careful who you suspect. Those words rang in my mind as my dad continued his tirade on how I have dragged his family to the ditches.

"Give the girl a break, John, " my mum said in a gentler tone.

"She doesn't need a break. She needs jail time, " my dad screamed.

I never did care for my parents. I disliked my Dad most of all. He was a dull politician who went on with his dull life. Yet, hatred of him never coursed through my blood as it did today.

"Do you know what you are doing young lady? Dating one of those damn kaffirs is disgusting. Not to mention illegal, " he said. "And as for dating a girl. Well, I knew you were different but I never thought you'll sink to this unnatural life."

"What did you just call Joan?", I said as a growl burst through my throat. I ceased to be hurt. I was angry.

My dad had insulted the girl I love. The girl whose embraces I lived for. During those few moments, I thought of the fiery, passionate Joan. She didn't deserve this.

" I called her a kaffir, Elizabeth, " Dad answered back. "I know people have mixed-race encounters all over the world. In places like the U.S, it's considered normal. Yet, not here."

"Then it's your job to change that, " I screamed. "You're in parliament. You have the power to change it, and you can."

"That's out of the question Elizabeth. We will die, I know we will. It's in our nature, " he said. "But South Africa will never die. It will live on despite your efforts to destroy it."

"Oh really, and how am I destroying it? I don't use a bit of tax money to buy myself a new BMW, " I said.

It was true. My dad's dreamt of the day when he'd have a shiny, new car in his garage. To be honest, we were all sick of seeing our

"How Elizabeth?" dad said scrunching his brow. He always did that when he was thoughtful.

"How do you steal the people's tax money or how do you change the law?" I asked smiling to myself. Joan's sharpness had rubbed off on me.

"I'm getting tired of your cheek young lady, " he said. "How do I change the law? Apartheid is unbreakable."

"I don't believe it."

"Well, you have to Elizabeth, there isn't any escape from reality, " he said. For a second I saw defeat swim in his eyes. This country was suffering. Suffering under the oppression of those unwilling to fight back.

Yet, that expression fled as soon as it arrived. His face was filled with hard lines and I saw the inflexibility that protected him like a shield come back. He was a coward.

"That's enough Elizabeth, " he said. "I don't want you seeing Joan again. It's for your own good."

"I know what's good for me and it isn't anything that comes out of your mouth."

I had never spoken back to my dad. I had never spoken back to anyone. In the past, I had always been Caroline's nice little sister. But this wasn't the past. I wasn't Caroline's little sister anymore. I was Elizabeth Ferreira; the girl who stood for what she believed was right. The girl who would change the law.

"You need to be more like Caroline, " he said putting his hands on Caroline's thin shoulders. I saw a smile curl from the corner of her lips. For a minute it looked like triumph. The next few moments, however, I ceased to gaze at Caroline. My eyes were fixed on my dad.

"I'll be having Caroline look after you. She always has been your greatest friend and will keep you out of any trouble."

My heart lifted out of an abyss. He was right. Caroline was truly the greatest friend I ever had. She was so great a friend that I knew she would help me see Joan. She would help me no matter what it costs her. I believed in her.

"Okay, dad, I'll let myself be guided by Caroline."

"There's a good girl, " he said patting my shoulder. I shot a large smile in Caroline's direction. A smile which my sister soon returned.

When Joan spoke about bonds that would never be broken, little did she know how absolutely right she was. Yet, this bond was not romantic. It was the bond between sisters, the bond between friends.

I knew Caroline's love for me was strong. It was, perhaps, stronger than the wood we built this house with. Yet, unlike pieces of wood, our bond was far more than just strong. It was beautiful too.