"Pearl, we need to talk!" my parents announced one day, out of the blue. Now, talk with my parents usually involved me getting into some trouble. I racked my brains hard, trying to think about what I was missing. I had done nothing except maybe stayed over at Brendan's place past midnight and smoked some weed. Then we had hot sex and Amara had to sneak out of the house and get me in, drunk and brawling, without our parents waking up.

I settled on the sofa gingerly, waiting for the scolding to happen but my parents were just staring at me, their gazes unfocused. I saw a muscle twitching at the corner of Dad's jaw. That was no not right. I could say the situation was serious because Mum's face was equally glum too.

"What's up, guys?" I ask, trying to make things a bit light, "Where is Amara?" I look around, hoping to find my sister around. Because whenever I get a scolding, she's always there behind the curtain, making faces at me.

"We need to talk about Amara..." my mother's words hung in the silence for some time.

"You see, neighbours are talking. They think we're sheltering a homeless criminal," my father said the lines slowly. I could feel the pain at each word.

"The neighbours say they spotted some cigarette and leftover weed in the dump yard behind our house and broken alcohol bottles too. Now as they say we're a decent group of people and none of the residents of this apartment ever indulge in drugs. They suspect it's... it's... " mother broke down before she could utter another word.

"They said its the 'black girl' who has been doing that. They want Amara out of the house," Dad said grimly.

Weed? Alcohol? They are what I do. Amara has never even kissed a boy in the twenty one years of her life.

"But, you are her legal guardians. How could they ask you to let her go?" I asked, hoping that there could be some solution in the law.

"After you both turned eighteen, technically we're not your guardians anymore. You both are individually legal citizens. So basically if they want her out, they can do that with force." Half of dad's explanation didn't enter my head as my eyes were focused on our family pic beyond them.

A very young mum and dad grinning at the camera. Newborn me on dad's lap and mum hugging Amara who was peeking out from the blanket with those big brown eyes of her. Amara had been born on the same day as me. Her single mother has developed some complications postpartum and she didn't make it. My mother had begged to keep the little chubby thing and they had adopted and named her Amara.

We had grown up like twins and had never known a life apart from each other.

"This isn't done. You can't just leave Amara. She..."

"Leave me? Why?" Amara's voice at the door made me stop mid-sentence.

"Amara honey," mum turned back to look at her and gasped. I followed her gaze and realised she had a deep gash on her hand. The blood dripping was soaking the doormat.

"Oh my God, sis," I rushed to her side, everything else forgotten.

"What happened, Amara!" Dad's voice was rough and angry. I knew at that moment Amara had to just name a person and he or she would be as good as dead by morning. My father was a cop, and the leader of a small team. No one dared hit his daughters.

"Some boys of the colony. The Dale twins and the Widgets. They called me a slut and tried to touch me without my permission," her eyes were steely, not sad, not ashamed but determined.

"And you fought with them?" mum covered her face in fear, promptly scampering off for some first aid.

Amara pressed the wound more to stop the bleeding, "It's not for nothing that I leant martial arts. They called me a 'nigger' and passed lewd remarks about my body. I fought back. But Widget boy had a knife and he slashed me with it. I impaled his groin and now he's still on the road, passed out." she smirked again.

Mum came and started tending to the gash on her hand.

"Dad. Those boys are twenty-five. You can easily arrest them," I said, hugging Amara.

"I will honey, don't worry," Dad soothed.

"You shouldn't have picked a fight you know," mum mumbled, "Especially after what the colony people say."

"What did the colony people say?" now there was genuine fear in her eyes. Boys, nah! But staying away from mum for even a day and Amara will have developed an anxiety disorder. "Are you going to turn me out of the house?"

"Amara we..."

"We'll shift out from this locality and move downtown," Dad replied gravely, cutting off mum.

"Downtown but..." Mum stared at dad with an incredulous expression. I realised what that meant. Downtown was the area where the 'black' community lived. It was the most underdeveloped part of the town, the apartheid really ugly and evident at each step. We had gone there to visit Amara's grandparents once and it was a really scary location to live. I knew mum was worrying for our safety.

"We'll manage," Dad brushed it off, took up his cap and revolver and set out for work.

__________