Haneul’s eyes fluttered open as sunlight struck her tear-stained face. The bright light was streaming in through the open window, where the curtains still fluttered softly with the morning breeze. She was lying on her stomach, and so she propped herself up on her elbows as she sleepily glanced around, attempting to ascertain where she was. Suddenly the memories rolled over her like a tidal wave, bringing with it the terrible reality of what had occurred the previous night. She had fallen asleep on her mother’s bed, mere yards from the grisly scene in the living room. Sunlight illuminated the bedroom, striking the rich red paint on the wall. The color made her slightly nauseous.

Haneul tensed when she heard a slight shuffling noise at the doorway of the bedroom, and she rolled onto her back to find Sandeul standing there, rubbing his eyes with his mouth split into a long yawn.

“Sorry, Haneul,” he apologized immediately. “I came in last night when you didn’t come out… I didn’t have the heart to wake you,” he admitted. “I slept in your room, if that’s okay. I would’ve slept in the living room, but…” he trailed off, looking uncomfortable. Haneul sat up, drawing her legs to her chest and wrapping her arms tightly around her shins as she regarded him with a small smile.

“That’s all right, Sandeul. Wasn’t your mom worried, though? What about school?” she asked. He waved a hand in dismissal as he walked over to her, gently sitting down on the edge of the bed. He situated himself close to the edge, as if it were a betrayal to interact too much with the beautiful comforter. He remained silent for a moment as he traced the embroidered flowery patterns with his finger.

“I called her to let her know last night. She said that we should both stay home today so we can get you settled in,” he explained. As Haneul’s face morphed into an expression of mild bewilderment, he smiled softly and reached out to gently take her hand, giving it a soft yet firm squeeze. “You’re going to stay with me, okay?”

Haneul immediately jumped off of the bed, shaking her head vigorously.

“Sandeul, I couldn’t possibly! I can’t be such a burden on you and your family,” she frowned. Sandeul hopped off the bed and walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders with a reassuring expression.

“Haneul, you won’t be a burden. My parents are delighted to have you, and as your best friend, it’s the least I can do! Besides, the police are having trouble finding your relatives since your mother was estranged. You don’t have anywhere else to go,” he explained lightly. Upon hearing the rationalization, Haneul glanced around the bedroom with renewed vision, realizing that this would most likely be the last time she ever stepped foot on the property. Sandeul gently shook her shoulders, bringing her out of the strange trance, and she looked up into his eyes with tears in her own. “I know it’s hard,” he sighed, gently running a hand over the top of her head. “It’s for the best, though. Come on. I’ll help you pack your things,” he offered. Haneul nodded in agreement, and he dropped his arms; before she followed him out of the room, however, she glanced down at her hand, where she still clutched the slightly crumpled black feather. She glanced out of the window with a slightly determined expression. My soul belongs to me. You can’t have it, she thought, tucking the feather into her back pocket. She then stripped the comforter off of the king-sized bed, folding it into a square and gripping it tightly in her arms before leaving the bedroom without a parting glance.

Haneul was exceedingly grateful for Sandeul’s help, as she was fairly certain that she would have been unable to bear the thought of leaving without him present. As she dragged the suitcase out from underneath her bed, flopping it onto her mattress and flipping it open, she simply stared at the empty, boxy structure for a good few minutes before he gently reminded her that they needed to get started. He began helping her go through her closet, and in an effort to brighten Haneul’s mood he began dressing himself in her accessories, winding scarves around his neck and placing girly hats upon his head before parading around the room like a fashion model. He ended up tripping and falling flat on his face when he attempted to wear her high heels, and the pair laughed about it for a good five minutes, halting their progress as they were repeatedly subjected to fits of uncontrollable giggles. Soon they had two suitcases stuffed with her clothing and other necessary items, and Sandeul was struggling to carry her voluminous collection of school books and supplies as they carefully navigated their way down the stairs.

As they stepped out of the front door, they were nearly given heart attacks as a loud honking noise assaulted their ears. Sandeul’s mother and father had come to greet them in their large SUV, with the trunk already raised to allow Haneul to pile her belongings inside. As she rolled her suitcase down the driveway, the pair of adults jumped out of the car and ran over to her to wrap her in a giant hug.

“Haneul, dear, we are so sorry for what happened,” Sandeul’s mother frowned, taking Haneul’s face in her hand and kissing her forehead a few times. “It’s a tragedy- an absolute tragedy.”

“Of course, we’re glad you’re safe,” Sandeul’s father added, patting her on the back uncomfortably. He wasn’t a very emotional man and was quite awkward in any situation involving sympathy.

“Of course, of course,” the older woman tutted, squeezing Haneul tightly once more. “We know you must be going through such a tough time, and so we are more than happy to open up our home to you.”

“Thank you very much. I really appreciate your generosity,” Haneul replied, her voice muffled as her face was buried as the woman nearly crushed her in her eager embrace.

“Think nothing of it, dear. You’re practically part of the family!” Sandeul’s mother answered, finally releasing the girl. Haneul took a deep breath, sure her lungs had collapsed from lack of oxygen. Sandeul’s father took the suitcases and effortlessly threw them into the trunk, carefully piling Haneul’s supplies around them.

“Sandeul wasn’t kidding when he said you were a devoted student,” he remarked with a sly smile as he closed the trunk and patted her slightly on the head. Sandeul walked over to her and threw his arm around her shoulders, pressing the side of his head against her own.

“Don’t worry, Haneul. You’ll get used to it after a while. Living together is going to be lots of fun!” he beamed. She smiled back at him, then climbed into the roomy backseat of the SUV behind him. The three of them chattered continuously as they drove down the road to Sandeul’s home, with occasional intermittent arguing as the husband and wife attempted to control the radio; the tunes flicked back and forth between peppy pop songs and rough rock songs, but Haneul barely listened, simply staring out of the car window as the houses passed by. She wondered what their lives were like. Are they normal? Do they simply go to school, go to the mall with their friends, sit down to dinner with their family and have a good time? Are they poor? Do they have to work multiple jobs just to put food on the table? Do they have to stay up late, doing their homework after they get off of work? Are they retired, and enjoying the simple pleasures, like the flowers in bloom and their grandchildren playing in the yard? Do they live in fear, dreading the moment their fathers or husbands return home, doing everything possible not to incur their wrath and utterly falling short? Haneul couldn’t answer these questions by simply staring out of the car window, looking on the houses and the daily lives of their residents. It was amazing, she realized, how little the outside of a house really told about a family. There could be so much more than one ever knew going on, and no one would ever know.

“Haneul?” Sandeul asked, dragging her away from her house-watching. She glanced over at him, and was surprised at his worried expression. “Are you all right? You’ve been so quiet.” She smiled reassuringly and reached over to pat him on the hand.

“I’m just fine, Sandeul. I was just lost in thought, that’s all,” she answered. She felt bad lying to him, because of course, she was not all right at all. Everything was happening so fast, and yet it seemed like ages ago she stumbled across her mother’s body in the living room. Time seemed strange to her, like it came and went with the tides, rushing by like a river before slowing down to a slow trickle. Everything was confusing, leaving her head swimming. She did not want to worry him, however.

Sandeul’s parents- mostly his mother- continued to chatter as they unloaded Haneul’s things and carried them into the quaint house. To Haneul, the house seemed to match the family perfectly. It was neat and tidy, with a clean-cut yard with dutifully tended flower beds and a windchime tinkling on the freshly painted white wooden porch. The siding was a summery yellow, and glistened with water, as it had seemingly just been pressure-washed. A pair of wooden chairs were situated on either side of the front door, which was a soft brown wood with an ornate oval window. The inside was no different. It was bright and cheerful, with many windows that spilled sunlight into the rooms, leaving no surface with dark shadow. The sweet scent of flowers wafted across the house, carried by the various candles that Sandeul’s mother burned during the day. The walls were all painted in bright colors, spring greens and sky blues and soft browns. It was a very welcoming atmosphere, and although Haneul had visited the residence many times in her lifetime, she felt as if it was embracing her for the first time.

“We’ve given you the spare bedroom,” Sandeul’s father explained as he carried her suitcase up the carpeted steps, tottering back and forth so violently that the girl was quite afraid he would topple over and fall. He arrived safely to the top, his face slightly red with the effort, and with shortness of breath he added, “I hope it will be to your liking.”

“Of course it will. I’m very thankful that you are allowing me to use it,” she replied instantly, bowing her head slightly to show her gratitude. He awkwardly patted her on the head once more before rolling her suitcase down the hall, and Haneul followed. He escorted her to the room at the end of the hall, and as she walked in, he added, “I hope you don’t mind the color.”

“No, not at all,” Haneul murmured as her hand slipped from the suitcase handle. The room was painted a rich red, nearly the same shade of that of her mother’s bedroom. Sandeul’s father bid her farewell, leaving her things behind so that she could unpack, but the girl simply stared at the brilliantly painted walls in a state of mild shock. A small smile formed upon her lips, and she took the comforter from the pile of her belongings and replaced the coverlet on the bed, stowing the jet-black comforter in the top shelf of the closet. She flopped onto the soft blanket, gently running her fingers over the embellished fabric and marveling at the simple irony of the painted bedroom.

A few hours later, when Haneul was nearly done unpacking, Sandeul wandered into the room with a slight knock on the door.

“Wow, it’s really shaping up,” he whistled, his hands clasped behind his back as he inspected his friend’s handiwork. She had opened up the window, allowing the breeze to fill the room, and she had drawn the curtains to the side to allow as much light as possible into the bedroom. She had overtaken the desk, kindly brought in by his father, and placed her assortment of school accessories and computer on top of it. The closet was filled with her clothes, and on the back of the door hung a large black feather tied by a string. “Where did you get this?” he inquired, taking the feather and examining it in curiosity. “It’s larger than any bird’s I’ve ever seen.”

“I found it,” she answered simply from her spot on her bed. She was dusting off a framed picture of her mother and father. With a satisfied look, she placed it on the bedside table and glanced over at him. “I thought it was pretty.” In reality, despite the fact that it was associated with the strange demon, she had found it too interesting to part with. In addition, it served as the perfect reminder to keep pushing forward and not allow despair to claim her.

“I see. Anyway, I came up here to tell you that dinner is almost ready,” he replied, letting the feather ornament fall from his hands as he turned to smile at her. Haneul hopped off of the bed and followed him down the stairs, and was greeted by a sickeningly familiar smell.

“Haneul!” Sandeul’s mother cried as the pair entered the kitchen. She was dressed in a simple apron, with brown smudges of curry sauce smeared on its surface, blotting out the frilly pink flowers it was decorated with. She gestured her feverishly to walk closer, and Haneul obeyed, jumping slightly when the cheery woman placed a wooden spoon against . “Try it!” she cried, and Haneul obediently parted her lips and allowed the woman to spoon the substance into . As the flavors danced against her tongue, Haneul tried to keep the tears from rushing to her eyes. It was curry, nearly the same as her mother’s recipe.

“Sandeul told us once that curry was your favorite, and so we decided it would be a great idea to cook it for you,” Sandeul’s father chimed from the dinner table, an open newspaper in his hands. Haneul simply nodded. The couple couldn’t have possibly have known the ill feelings that Haneul associated with the meal, and were only attempting to cheer her up. The pair waited expectantly for a comment.

“Thank you both very much. It’s delicious,” she responded, bowing her head slightly to the cook. The woman seemed quite pleased at the response, and she began humming a popular pop song as she turned back to stirring the pot. Within fifteen minutes the four of them were seated around the dinner table with plates of steaming curry in front of them. The couple prattled continuously to Haneul as she slowly consumed the meal, her feelings swirling in her belly and making her deeply nauseous.

“I wish I had done more for your mother,” sighed Sandeul’s mother. “It was such a shame, really, for her to be stuck with that man. Perhaps I could have convinced her to leave.”

“It’s all psychological, honey,” his father replied with a small frown. “There’s plenty of science about the mindset of an abused woman- the abuser uses all manners of reverse psychology on her to get her to stay. It’s a deadly mind game.”

“Still, though, that poor woman must have been deathly afraid! I wonder why she never attempted to leave? I’m sure her family would have helped her,” his mother responded. “Surely she could have saved money to buy bus tickets for Haneul and herself, at the very least.” Haneul’s grip tightened around her chopsticks as the conversation continued.

“From my understanding, she was estranged after marrying that man. Her parents didn’t approve, but she married him anyway. Should have trusted their intuition, I suppose,” the father frowned.

“I’m sure it was more complicated than that,” Sandeul cut in anxiously, glancing uncomfortably in Haneul’s direction. Her knuckles were turning white, and a cold sweat had broken out over her entire body. She nearly gagging with nausea, and hadn’t taken a single bite of the curry in nearly three minutes.

“Maybe so. Still, I approached Haneul’s mother several times about Haneul staying with us! She also refused, claiming she didn’t want to burden us! If I had been in her place, I would have given you up in a heartbeat, Sandeul,” his mother tutted. The three of them jumped as the chopsticks suddenly snapped in Haneul’s grip. Tears streamed down her cheeks, evaporating as they landed in the hot curry.

“You have no idea what it was like,” she whispered. “No idea. We were afraid to be alone with him. We thought that if we at least had each other, everything would be all right.” She slammed her fists on the table, shoulders quaking. “Everything is his fault! Don’t you dare blame my mother! She loved me!” she screeched, then suddenly shot up from the table and ran up the stairs. She stumbled into the bathroom, curling over the toilet as she gagged, sobbing bitterly. Eventually, the nausea and tears subsided, and she lay limply with her face in her arms on the toilet seat.

“Haneul?” came a timid call from the hallway. She just sniffled in response, and Sandeul walked into the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind him. He sat down on the tiled floor beside her, reaching up to gently rub her back in slow, regular circles. “I’m sorry… They should have known better. They don’t understand.”

“No. They don’t,” Haneul whispered. “It’s not their fault. Who would understand? You can only comprehend that situation if you’re living it.” Sandeul nodded in agreement, his hand migrating up to her hair as he ran his fingers over the smooth locks.

“You won’t leave, will you?” he asked nervously.

“No, Sandeul. I won’t leave. I have nowhere else to go,” she sighed, sitting up and gazing at him miserably. He gently wrapped her in a hug, and she buried her face into his shoulder, sighing shakily. “Thank you so much, Sandeul,” she murmured.

“Don’t mention it. I talked to them. They’re sorry, and they won’t bring it up again,” he reassured, leaning his head against hers. After sitting there on the bathroom floor for a good while, Sandeul took Haneul back to the bedroom, and departed the house with the promise to bring her some comforting fast food. As she waited for him to return, she stared at the black feather hanging on the back of the door, gently swaying back and forth as the wind blew in from the open window.

Haneul could glean no strength from it, however, and carefully pondered the demon’s offer.

I can take all of your pain and suffering away.

She fell back onto the soft comforter, gripping the soft fabric with her fingers.

Mom, I miss you… I’m trying to stay strong, but it’s just so hard… I’m trying. Lying there in the rich red room, she felt as if her mother lay beside her, but she was unsure of what she was trying to say.