If we were birds, I would be a sparrow, and she would be a kingfisher:  for I am the bird Mankind looks down upon, a common sight chased away, barely noticed for all my plain brown feathers, and she is the bird Mankind wait hours by the lake just to watch a streak of bright blue swoop down, the creature of beauty admired by many.

Even bedridden, my sister was still the centre of attention.  It didn’t matter that she was sickly, her once flawless porcelain skin yellowed and sagging.  Everyone flocked around her bedside when they could, fawning over her in a manner that sickened me.  A never-ending stream of schoolmates who had never so much as exchanged a single word before now filled her spacious room, leaving behind bouquets of elaborate flower arrangements and ‘Get Well Soon’ cards that squeezed me into a corner.  No one noticed this pale imitation of their beloved queen backed against baby blue walls.  I was quite literally, a wallflower, lost in a sea of brighter flowers.

“Soojung, clear this away.”  The moment the room emptied out, Sooyeon’s angelic smile was exchanged for a haughty expression, head tilted, chin sticking out. 

Out of habit, my head snapped up at her command from the precious manuscript I had been absorbed in, and the words “Yes ma’am” left my mouth before I even registered the order.  Calling her ma’am in the place of something as intimate as ‘unnie’ couldn’t have been anyone’s but her idea.  In fact, it was one of the first ‘rules’ she made up.

I briefly shut my eyes and counted to ten to calm my breathing then got up, leaving the manuscript book at an angle against the wall so my hands would be free to gather all the gifts – more like tickets to see a display – into a neat pile next to the door.  They would be taken away by the cleaner tomorrow.

A quick glance at Sooyeon affirmed she was deep in slumber.  It was rather surprising since night had yet to come, but I was far from complaining; these rare occurrences gave me more time alone.  In theory, at least.

Settling down in my corner once more, I opened the thin book to where I left off: page five, composition three.  My songs never had any titles; they were all numbered.  Sure, I had some ideas penciled at the top of pages, but I could not bring myself to write it in ink on the blank line meant for that very purpose.  The permanence of black and white… there was a tone of finality, one I repelled from.  For the very same reason, none of my compositions ended in a perfect cadence, instead left hanging, unfinished.

Subconsciously, I began singing softly a song from a long time ago which I had forgotten the lyrics to – or did I ever remember it? – and substituted those lines with wordless notes.  In my head, I thought of it as “The Beggar’s Song”, because there used to be a ragged old man hunched right around the corner of twenty first avenue, hoping to earn his next meal. 

It was always the same song; like clockwork, he would be rasping ‘We look at the birds/and then we think to ourselves/how free they are,/soaring high above the earth’ the exact moment I walked past.

Sometimes, I wonder if he’s still there, singing that song.

Outside the window, a little distance away, stood a bird table.  It was Mother’s idea to set one up in the garden  “since we never use it anyway”. 

In a small town like ours where land space was scarce and reserved for more practical purposes such as keeping a mini patch of vegetables, we were considered lucky to even own a garden.  Maintained by an grouchy old man stooping over half the time, the plot of land served as a pretty backdrop for a dainty afternoon tea party.

Sooyeon being Sooyeon had taken up the idea with much enthusiasm at first; after all, no one else had a bird table anywhere.  If it were to be made, it would have to be nothing less than a grand affair.  Spanning two metres by two metres, the even wood table top rested upon a sturdy structure of bricks, occupying majority of our garden.  I couldn’t help thinking how ridiculously extravagant the bird table was, highly doubting the practicality when it wasn’t likely for so many to be attracted.

How wrong I was! 

Grudgingly filled each dawn, courtesy of our gardener, it was as though the birds were spreading news of where their own kind could find a magnificent spread daily.  I picked out thrushes, wrens, crows, jays, magpies, pigeons and cuckoos amongst many more species unfamiliar to my amateur scope of knowledge. 

Of course, the most common one was the sparrow.  They would appear by the dozens at every hour of the day unfailingly.  Propping my chin up in my hands, I would scrutinize each plump brown-grey bird, intrigued by how plain they appeared, how much of an easy bullying target they were to their pushier counterparts.

Over time, I found myself faithfully awaiting the arrival of a particular sparrow come dusk.  Unusually tiny and frail, it would hop haphazardly on flimsy thread-like legs, hurriedly getting out of the other birds’ way as they barged past rudely. 

Two linked looped patterns decorated the left wing in the illusion of a chain, or so my imagination interpreted, hence I called it ‘Chained’.  Newly introduced to the fate of my sister’s caretaker, I struggled to meet her demands the best I could, and there was a little voice in my head admitting how similar the fragile-looking sparrow and I were.   For whatever reason, seeing the bird gave me strength in a quiet way, urging me to carry on with boldness regardless of how much oppression I received.

I made the foolish mistake of sharing Chained with Sooyeon.  Naïveté and an eagerness to please opened my mouth, the words tumbling out before I had considered the consequences.  I can still remember the manner in which those pain-dulled eyes lit up at my thoughtless confession.

The third evening after, I waited many hours in vain.  Chained never showed up.  Perhaps it was trick of the light – the next morning I thought that hidden in the shade of the bird table lay an unmoving tiny creature, useless wings outspread at an awkward angle, eliciting a hollow sort of feeling inside me.

Eventually, Sooyeon tired of the birds’ visits marked by incessant chitters.  Now, only fallen leaves and snow in winter accompanies the lonely bird table.

In my dream, a silhouette approached in the darkness of the night.  He – or she – hovered over me for a few seconds, wherein I vaguely noticed a shadow from behind my eyelids, then as though having made a decision, raises an arm. 

My brain struggled to connect the shadowy form of the object the stranger wielded to a name, but the glint of pale moonlight pressed a warning button.  Arms not coordinating with legs, I made a flimsy attempt to escape, sluggishly charging towards the door.

Just as I thought I stood a chance, cold unyielding grasps yanked at my ankles.  The sudden jerking movement caused me to lurch forward, flailing where time froze me in mid-air yet succumbed to gravity, and I fell, chin connecting with the cement floor first, body following suit in a jarring crash.  Immediately, a taste of iron filled my mouth.  This is it, I close my eyes and wait for death. 

The sound of sharpened blade slicing air fills the room… and when I open my eyes, nothing has happened to me.  Pressed against the wall, my back is safe.  I am safe, cramped up in the corner.  I move, trying to get into a more comfortable position, and the dreaded metal links clink ominously.

Chaining me to the bed was Sooyeon’s idea.  In her exact words, “Soojung sleepwalks, so wouldn’t it be safer for her if she was secure?  Like maybe to the bed since it’s quite sturdy.” 

I myself never knew of any sleepwalking tendencies.  Then again as the sleepwalker, I wouldn’t know, but neither would my sister; we’ve always occupied separate bedrooms far from each other.

Nevertheless, her implied request was granted.  I could walk as far as the door, no further.  A torture at first to be so physically confined, I soon forgot what it was like to step outside my boundaries, psychologically building a barrier that disallowed me to imagine a world outside these four walls.  It isn’t so bad anymore.

Moonlight bathing the contours of my face, erratic heartbeats evening out, I let the peacefulness of the night empty out my mind in the process of working hard at not thinking.

Don’t you wish Sooyeon dead?

Startled by the sudden question, my head snapped up.  The voice persisted.

Wouldn’t you simply love to go over while she’s asleep and strangle her?

Screwing my eyes shut, I channeled all my willpower into blocking it out, yet it stubbornly stayed on.

It’s so easy, you know.

Shut up!  My patience snapped and I screamed at the voice internally.

Isn’t she an absolute pain?  Snarky, I’m sure.

I shook uncontrollably, chains rattling softly.  Just shut up!

You do want to leave this hellhole, don’t you?  Why should a girl as pretty and talented as you be stuck here?  The future lays ahead of you!

Balls of both hands forcefully pressing my temples, my willpower was slowly crumbling.  Just… please… leave me alone…

Listen to me.

Go away!

Just listen to me; I have your best interests at heart.

Stop lying.

Everyone is a liar and a cheat, so deal with it.  Are you listening?  No, don’t bother answering.  I want you to stand up slowly.

I won’t listen.  Yet unwittingly, unable to exert control over my limbs, I stood.

Beware of the noise your chains make, my dear.  Good, now take small steps in the direction of Sooyeon’s bed.  That’s right, perfect.  Small, sure steps.

My body was not mine to use any longer.  It was the feeling of watching a scene from behind a thick glass panel, experiencing it but at the same time completely detached.

Wrap your lovely white hands around that slender neck.  Feel how weak it is?  Pathetic, really.  Start with your thumbs; apply some pressure on the front area of .  Don’t be so gentle, mm?  Take your time tightening the hold.  There’s no way for her to escape, so it’s fine.

A morbid, delicious delight ran up my spine.  Everything in this world had narrowed down to the power I wielded in my very hands and that swan-like neck.  The diameter of the circle my hands formed was decreasing, and with each decrease, almost inaudible snapping sounds could be heard.  In that moment, my consciousness was still sitting behind the glass panel, unable to do anything except watch.

Suddenly, Sooyeon’s eyelids fluttered open, revealing chocolate brown orbs mirroring my own.  Her lips moved soundlessly to beg for mercy I would not give.  I knew what was happening because I could see the events that my consciousness refused to register.

Even after her rigid body slackened, I continued closing the gap between my two hands, fully absorbed in the task.  With a final satisfying crunch, her pretty head jerked back, pulling the rest of her along as it fell onto the bed. 

Fingers delicately drawing her eyelids over unfocused eyeballs, I thought numbly, It’s a pity those gorgeous eyes would have to be wasted.  The perfectionist in me saw to it Sooyeon was arranged beautifully atop her mattress – which I moved to the floor – uncollected bouquets arranged artistically around her to compensate the broken neck.

Once that was done, my subdued hands inserted the key I’d taken from Sooyeon into the lock.  A perfect fit.  Chirping from the window distracted me and I looked up.  Out of the corner of my eyes, a bird flew off.  It was a brown-gray bird of fragile stature, reminding me of Chained, who had probably decomposed by now.  And as it flew off, a ray from the rising sun illuminated the left wing: patterns that loosely resembled unlinked chains. 

Three turns in each one later, I picked up my lone possession and left.  For the first time in many years, my feet touched the ground elsewhere, each step away liberating me from the four walls.

The sparrow had flown.