"Joan, " I called out to her as I felt my heart pound. The figure in the ditch was small and frail. It was so unlike the girl I knew.

Silence reigned in that ditch. Yet, among its tyrannical reign was a revolution. Joan was breathing. Her breath terrorized every inch of the silent atmosphere.

The said atmosphere was terrorized a little bit more as I leapt into the ditch, landing on rusted pieces of tin. My arms stung. The tin and the wire that surrounded them, cut into my flesh like knives. Why would somebody throw these things into a ditch? Someone could fall or jump or get tossed into it.

"Joan, " I said looking at the girl beside me. "Hang on to me, okay, I'm going to get you out of this."

Joan flashed a smile. Her face was colonised by riffle wounds and purple bruises that were almost the size of my hands. Yet, she smiled.

"Well then, you'll need a ladder and the ability to carry heavy weights, " she said. "Because getting me out of this ditch seems like a miracle."

"Hey, I can lift heavy weights, " I protested.

"Seeing how I lay on top of you last night, I have no doubt about it."

I giggled. Joan may be plagued with agony, yet she still had the strength to bring back happiness. Her smile, her voice and her very presence brought back memories. It reminded me of why I love her.

"Okay, get up, " I said. "Rachel and Ian are right above us. They'll help us out and then we'll have to get you to a hospital..."

"No, " she said shaking her head as best as she could. The wounds on her neck were terrifying. But they were mere thistles to the giant, gaping wound that was on her stomach.

Blood oozed out of it and spilt onto the soil. I always thought the soil here was a nice sunny brown. Yet, today the sunny shades were tinged with red.

"Come on, get up. We need to get you to the hospital. There is one a few feet away."

"It's no use, Elizabeth, " she said. "That hospital only serves whites."

"They will make an exception, " I said trying to help her up.

Despite her laying on me last night, her weight came crashing down on me. Last night, I was healthy. Today, I was injured by an army of tin and barbed wire. This was the day I should have died. The feeling of gas stealing my breath away was all too vivid. My body could not tolerate the pressure of injury, near-asphyxiation and a weight heavier than my own.

"Ian! Rachel!" I called out. "Help me."

"It's no use, Elizabeth, " Joan said as she stopped me from dragging my friends down with me. "The nearest hospital for blacks is twelve kilometres away. The best thing you can do for me is staying right next to me."

"Joan, we have to try to get to the hospital. Otherwise -otherwise you'd..." I couldn't continue my sentence. Sobs attacked my throat as tears sped down my cheeks.

They were warm and light as they slid down my cheeks and dropped onto the soil. The red-tinged soil. The soil that that saw so much hate. And so much love.

"Hey, it's okay, " Joan said as her hands, which were still soft, cupped my cheeks.

"No, it's not okay, " I yelled. "Screw apartheid and screw the government and screw..."

"The government is made up of people, " Joan said as she winced. She may be skilled at faking a smile, yet no one could ever evade pain.

"Sure, a lot of people make mistakes, but that's what makes them all the more deserving of love."

I looked at her like I thought the blood loss was making her thoughts go berserk. I couldn't possibly spare any sympathy towards those who had hurt her.

"No, " I said. "I can't forgive them for treating you like this."

"You must, " she said as tears shone in her eyes. They rolled down her face, slowly and gently, as they dropped on to the soil. The soil has our blood and tears.

"Apartheid will die, " she continued, although every syllable seemed twisted in the hands of suffering.

"There will be a day when apartheid will only be alive in the minds of the old and later in the pages of children's history books. There will be a time when injustice itself will die. And you will live to see that day."

"I will, " I sobbed. "I will live on that day. I'll live by your side. Someday, when it's over, we're going to look back at all of it. We could get married. And if that isn't legalised, we'll move away. "

Joan's eyes met mine. They were so big and brown and brimmed with a thousand emotions.

I felt the softness of her lips on mine. The exquisiteness of her kisses never ceased to impress me. It was a kiss that extracted emotions I never thought were possible to feel. It was a kiss that told our story.

"That's going to be our future, " I told Joan as I looked at her through a blinding veil of tears.

"No, love, " she said inching away from me.

My hand raced to hers. I wanted her. I wanted to watch her graduate. I wanted to see the smile on her face when they announced the end of apartheid. I wanted to wrap her in my arms when our country finally realised that sexual minorities had rights too.

"Yes, " I said pressing her hand in mine. "You have to believe in it. It's our future."

She took a deep breath. It looked like all the pain that plagued her had left to torture its next victim.

"It's your future, " she said before exhaling the last bit of air that would ever leave her lungs.

I spent all afternoon trying to shake her awake, yet her eyes retained that blank expression as they focused on the distance. Joan was gone.