MirrorMirror

39 / The Intruder of Dreams

"Fucking girl. Fucking pain in my neck, is what she is. Why'd I get stuck with her to look after? What'd I do to deserve that, eh?"

Cassidy, storming away from the wardrobe, was furious. He was shaking with an anger that vibrated his heart almost to bursting point.

Fucking bitch. Stepdaughters. Fucking stepdaughters. Insolent, spiteful, ungrateful stepdaughters.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

He stomped into the bathroom and threw up the toilet seat, making it bang and bounce against the cistern. He ignored both. He had a bladder to empty.

He imagined he was urinating on the girl's head. Might teach her some manners. Show her who's boss. Might make her actually appreciate him for a change. Respect him for everything he did for her since her stupid mother died.

Cass flushed the toilet and left the room, hands unwashed. Fuck it. He went down the stairs, noticing the ninth and seventh steps were loose. Fucking missus. She couldn't even fall downstairs properly without damaging them!

No wonder her daughter was so useless.

In the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator. It contained a minimal amount of food, with only some still in date, and a copious amount of alcohol. He grabbed a can of lager and, while he popped the top open, kicked the fridge closed.

He needed a drink. More than one. More than that. maybe!

Every hangover started with the first guzzle, he thought, while doing exactly that.

He slumped onto the sofa, adjusting his position until he was comfortable. It took longer than it should have, and he knew why. Her upstairs. Been sneaking down and sitting in his place.

No fucking way!

He'd have to teach her a lesson.

Later, though. He had some beers in need of drinking. He had a reality to drown out.

Before he switched the television on, he took notice of his reflection on the screen. Looking good, man. He rubbed his protruding stomach and belched loudly.

Good beer, that.

Cassidy's eyes opened, and he stared at the ceiling gripping the quilt tightly. After a moment spent swimming back to reality, he looked around his bedroom, making sure he was in his own room.

Thank fuck!

He was. The wallpaper and quilt cover had reverted back to his. The sideboard was gone. The mirror was back on the outside of the wardrobe and, he thought, listening intently, the wardrobe was empty apart from his clothes. He relaxed his hands.

What the hell was that?

Bobby lay still next to him. He was growling in his sleep.

"Bobby," Cass said, stroking the dog. "Wake up, mate. You're dreaming."

Bobby woke abruptly and twisted his head back, snapping at and biting Cassidy's hand. Instantly, as Cass swore and yanked his hand back, the dog realised his mistake and jumped up to lick the wound he'd just caused.

"Don't worry, boy," Cass said softly. "You were dreaming. I'm fine."

He wasn't, though. Not entirely. It hadn't only been his puppy who'd had a dream. He had too, and he could remember every detail.

Pushing the quilt back slowly, Cassidy stood and walked towards the mirror. Bobby stayed where he was, with his head down on his paws. His ears were back and his teeth were slightly bared. He was watching the wardrobe.