Once his brother had left, Cassidy retrieved Bobby and went through to the living room.

The sofa was calling. Brainless TV shows were calling. He planned on answering their call.

Settling down, he was about to lay the dog next to him, but Bobby pre-empted his move and laid there, anyway. His body was against Cassidy's leg, as tightly tucked in as he could get. His head was on his outstretched front legs. Cass rested his arm across the pup and slowly stroked the back of his head between the ears. He turned the television on, prepared to watch anything, as long as he didn't have to think about it, or anything else.

It turned out his brain had other ideas. The anonymous shows he flicked through failed to capture his attention, though he'd wanted something that wouldn't, anyway. Even the streaming services were unable to provide a programme he could leave on for more than a few minutes without his finger itching to change it.

His brother had surprised him. His complete acceptance of Amy was unexpected and, if their positions were reversed, Cass couldn't be sure he'd react the same. Ethan could be erratic, but, on many occasions, had also shown a calm level headedness that wasn't in keeping with his usual, more cavalier, attitude. There was no fear.

He contemplated having a shower, then remembered he wasn't alone. Privacy had left the building and had gone on holiday. It'd be sunning itself on a beach somewhere, wondering whether to get another drink or take a dip in the ocean. Who knew when it would return, if ever. Amy's eyes, invisible though they were, could see everywhere. Everything.

It was the first time he was pleased to have issues with constipation. He would have to speak with her about boundaries.

The shower was needed. Cassidy was never an unclean person and he couldn't allow the fact he might be seen – or would be – naked to put him off. He enjoyed them anyway. A shower didn't only wash away the grime from his skin, it also did the same to his thoughts. It was relaxing. Cleansing in multiple ways.

"I'm going to get a shower," he said to the mirror. "Can you close your eyes? Look the other way?"

He had no way of knowing if Amy was able to direct her view or if she just saw everything. If it was the latter, nothing could prevent him being seen doing whatever he did. He wasn't an exhibitionist, and nor was he a prude. He'd do what he had to.

The lack of a reply from the exhausted Amy told him nothing, but made his mind up for him. A shower it was. He walked through to the bathroom, pulled the curtain across the bath and set the water flowing. He then returned to his bedroom to undress while the water temperature rose to the, hopefully, correct level.

Removing everything apart from his boxer shorts was something he did without thinking. It was only when he had to fully disrobe that he paused. Amy had seen all he had to 'offer.' She wasn't offended and, it seemed, she had enjoyed the unintentional show. He could, and possibly should, have felt violated, but didn't. She was unable to prevent herself from observing the things he did. She was trapped and, as much as she had her abilities, she couldn't free herself. Amy was tied to the house and witness to all that happened within its walls.

That included his showering, defecating and anything else a man living alone might be prone to do.

Cass removed his boxers and tossed them onto his bed with his other clothes. He'd sort them out when he was done. He stood still for a moment, wondering if Amy was looking. She had still not responded. That could mean she was spiritually sleeping or perhaps wasn't in existence at all. If she was, in fact, looking at him, he didn't feel he had anything to be ashamed or self conscious of. He was in mostly decent shape, though a six pack of well-defined abdominal muscles wasn't something he aspired to. He was proportioned well enough, and Amy had already admitted she approved of his physique.

Let her look. He found he was on the edge of wanting her to.

The shower was swift. Once his body was washed, he didn't think there was enough time in the world for his mind to be equally laundered, he dried off, wrapped the towel around his waist and returned to the bedroom. As he passed the top of the stairs, he saw Bobby sitting patiently in the hall below.

"Do you want to come up, boy?"

Bobby barked, ran in a small circle, and then darted off towards the kitchen. Cass laughed to himself. He was going to enjoy having the puppy there.

He laughed again, this time at himself. He'd just undressed in the bedroom, gone through to the bathroom and showered. Why, then, was he hiding behind the towel? It was pointless. He shook his head and allowed it to drop to the floor. He felt liberated. He could, if he so wished, remain naked all day. Who needed clothes?

No. Don't be an idiot. Get some clothes on. Just because it could be flaunted didn't mean it should be. He had standards. Morals. He hadn't left them behind at Elise's. She certainly would have no need for them. With an apologetic glance at the still blank mirror, Cassidy dressed. Once back with Bobby, he picked the dog up.

"I got a bit carried away there, eh, Muttly?"

Bark!

"I've got something to do for you," he said. "I'd best do it now, eh?"

In the non-office spare bedroom, was a particular box. Keeping hold of Bobby, he returned upstairs to retrieve it. On the landing, the Cockerpoo squirmed enough to cause Cass to drop him. Bobby ran into the main bedroom and sat in front of the mirror, obviously waiting for Amy.

"Come on mate," Cass said, picking him back up. "She's not here right now."

Bobby's eyes never left the mirror on his way out of the room. He craned his neck to see it until the very last moment.

"She'll be back, don't worry."

He took the box and went down to the kitchen. The box was placed on the table and Bobby was lowered to the floor, where he laid against Cass's foot. At least he wasn't entirely devoted to Amy and did acknowledge there was someone else in the house!

He'd been surprised when he had discovered that dogs had the equivalent to a cat flap. It was essentially just a larger version of the feline counterpart, and the price matched that comparison. It hadn't been cheap, but it had become extremely useful. Having Lady, Butch and Co. able to get outside into their gardens and play or relieve themselves was much better than having them cooped up all day. When Cassidy and Elsie were at work, he was sure their pets would get lonely. Stir crazy. He didn't doubt there'd be times when he would in their place. The doggy cat flap solved the problem, if there was one. The one he'd installed when he lived with his ex-everything had come with him in the box.

He took it out and held it up. A screw had fallen out and he couldn't find it in the box. No matter. It would hold fine until he could find a replacement. Fitting the flap wasn't a simple task, but it was one Cassidy had carried out multiple times. Bobby watched him work, butting his head against his owner's hand for a stroke whenever there was a pause to think about the next screw to turn or part to place. He'd just finished when his phone rang.

Jazz.

"Hey Snotty."

"Fucker. How are you?"

"Good, thanks," Cass answered. "Why do you ask?"

Ethan just called. Said he'd been to yours."

Wow. Fish Face wasted no time in reporting back to their sister. What had he said? Cassidy was a straitjacket short of crazy? He was actually completely (ish) sane and there was a haunted mirror in his bedroom, housing the ghost of her murdered school friend?

"OK?"

"He told me what happened."

"And what was that?"

"Come on Cass. Don't be like that. We're bound to be sceptical. You would be too. Probably more so than either of us."

Well, maybe so. But while he could doubt them, they should believe him, shouldn't they? So what if the thought was one sided? It didn't mean it couldn't be the case. Except it did. He would have been as equally doubtful as they, or worse. He would have flatly denied the possibility and blamed it on binge watching too many Netflix horror series coupled with a vodka or two more than necessary.

"So you believe me?"

"I don't know," Jazz said, her voice dropping in tone to a more serious level. "It doesn't seem possible, but Ethan said it's true. Amy really is at yours, living in your mirror."

'Living' wasn't exactly the right word to use...

"She is, yes."

"That's mad."

It's not normal, that's for sure. Or was it? Spirits could inhabit any number of inanimate objects and we might never know, at least until we were one, too. If he had an Amy, who was to say half the world's population didn't have a Reece or a Shuri, or multiple random ghosts? Or, even, an Annabelle or Chucky?

https://youtu.be/9s33RyA8e8M