Saying something and that something being reality can be completely different things.

In, perhaps, the majority of cases, exaggerations are made. Enhancements. Subversions. The truth is taken on a twisting trail that, by the end of its journey, only vaguely resembles its original state. It sheds facts like the scales of a growing snake, with the underlying creature reinvigorated and ready to convince you it hasn't changed.

But it has.

Cassidy had no actual idea of what he might do to help Amy. Only the idea he needed one. His question regarding trust was more to ascertain if she'd allow him to come up with something. Once she'd said she did trust him, he then had to give her something to trust him for.

In this case, a lie.

"What are you going to do?" she asked him.

What indeed? He didn't know. He needed to trace her father first. That should be straightforward, with search engines and social media tracking almost every aspect of one's life. A few minutes on his phone or laptop should provide results. But, then...?

"I'm going to find him."

"Then what?"

Cass looked at Amy. During their conversation, her image had gained more substance and depth, making it easy for him to forget she was trapped in the glass. He felt he could reach out and touch her cheek. He could stroke the skin. Feel the warmth. Kiss those...

What?

"Then I'll come up with another plan."

He might as well be honest with her. He had nothing beyond that. Jazz and Ethan could help, he was sure. They'd want to, regardless of what they were helping with.

"You know... it's dangerous?"

"I do. You said. I'll be careful."

"You don't know how much, though. He's... He can..."

There was fear in her face. She was trying to hide it, but was failing.

"Amy, don't worry. I promise I will be careful."

"I know. And I know you will. But..."

Amy stopped talking. She was frowning, and deep furrows lined her forehead. She was staring down at the floor and he could tell there was something she wanted to say. If she was going to talk him out of hunting her father down, she'd be unsuccessful. He had to free her.

"Tell me," he said.

She looked up and at him, her gaze intent and intense.

"He can tell things. He always could."

"Tell things? Like what?"

"Like... I don't know. Like if you had something you weren't telling him, or you'd done something you shouldn't have."

"A parent's intuition? That's normal. Kids are crap at hiding things."

"No. It was more than that. And he wasn't my parent. Barely even my step parent."

"I'm sorry," Cass said. "I just meant parents can usually tell these things."

"But he would know before you got home. And it wasn't just me. It was mum too."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He used to lock her in the wardrobe before me. Before he killed her."

"Shit. I'm sorry. What a monster."

"Yeah, so you need to reconsider. If you go after him, he'll know. If he doesn't already."

"How can he know already?"

"Because that's him! That's what he does!"

"Wasn't all that just coincidence? Or a phone call from the school or something?"

"We didn't have a phone. He said it was too expensive, and he didn't want to speak to anyone, anyway."

"OK, so something else, then. Something rational."

"Why are you still thinking about rationality?" Amy asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're talking to me!"

"Well, I just meant..."

"Cass Cass. You're not listening. He will know. He might know already. If you go after him, he could be already coming for you!"

"Amy, I can handle myself, and I'll be careful!"

"You can't be careful if you're dead! It's too late, then!"

He was getting nowhere. Amy was becoming frantic and needed to calm down. Cassidy wasn't sure how to make that happen.

"I understand," he lied. "I'll keep a lookout. How's that?"

"Cass, I know you're trying to help, but I really think you should listen to me."

"I have been listening, Amy. I have. I'll be super careful. I don't know what else to do other than do nothing."

"I wouldn't blame you for doing that," she said.

"I'm not going to do that. You won't stop me, I'm afraid."

"I know. But you don't understand. You say you do, but you don't."

"Tell me how? Why?"

"He's... I don't know... psychic or something."

Cassidy stifled his laugh just him time, reducing it to an embarrassed cough. His belief in the supernatural had been shaken. He'd been forced to re-evaluate his long held opinions, which was something he hadn't expected, particularly considering what that re-evaluation entailed.

But... psychic?

"OK...?"

"You don't believe me."

"I didn't say that. I'm just sceptical."

"Just like there's ghosts and... me... there's psychics. Not as many as say they are, but definitely some. Varying degrees. Most think it's all them, every prediction or shifted candlestick. It's not. It's us. Me and others like me. We get, like, enthralled into doing their bidding. We don't mind, cos they are sort of sensitive to us."

"I get that. It sounds more plausible than what I was thinking."

"Patrick Swayze and Whoopi Goldberg?"

"Something like that."

"No. It's much scarier."

Just let him go! Stop pushing him! It was only making him more convinced he was doing the right thing.

"You said you trusted me," he said.

"I do. Really."

"Then let me do it my way."

Amy sighed and nodded. She knew they would get nowhere. They both believed they were right, and neither was actually wrong. Cass wasn't seeing the facts or, rather, he was ignoring them. He probably thought she was doing the same. They were at an impasse.

"Be careful," she said.

"I will."

He had every intention of being exactly that. He'd never been one to put himself deliberately in danger, and wasn't going to start. Whatever her father might be able to do wouldn't stop Cassidy's pursuit. Cassidy thinking it was all hokum wouldn't either. The dead could speak, but the living were just people. Intuition was just a person having a better sense of others. They couldn't see into the future. They couldn't see into your mind.

Amy's fear of her father wasn't ignored, however. Cass had seen some of what he was capable of. He wasn't careless enough to knock on the guy's door and accuse him.

No. He'd have to be more subtle.

He pictured himself dragging a knife across the other's throat. He'd tell him it was a gift from his daughter. A late Father's Day present. There was no way he'd be able to carry out the act, though. He wasn't a murderer, whether it was deserved or not.

Was it deserved? Did anyone deserve to die? A life for a life was not a viewpoint Cassidy adhered to. Life was precious and, yes, those who took it should be punished, but wasn't killing murder, even if it was muddied by law and legitimisation? He was torn. He could see both sides of a coin that kept on spinning. If someone killed a young child or an animal or, well, anyone, should their own existence be snuffed out?

There were those he knew that would cry out an emphatic YES! There were also those that believed any killing was wrong. Cass felt, if he had to dissect his thoughts on the subject, that under the right circumstances, which would always be inherently wrong, some people just didn't deserve to continue drawing breath.

He would be unable to do the deed himself. He hated killing flies or spiders. A duck he'd once, unavoidably, driven over, still haunted him years later.

Yet, if someone were attacking his sister or, one day when he'd had them, his children, would he retaliate?

He would.

Amy's father wouldn't be killed. Amy's father deserved to be, perhaps, but Cassidy would have to find an alternative. Permanent disfigurement? Lifelong reliance on a wheelchair and colostomy bag? They didn't sound so extreme.

The thing was, Cassidy wanted the man to know. It couldn't just be an anonymous attack or call to the authorities. Amy's father had to be fully aware of why this was being done to him.

That part, Cassidy was looking forward to.

"I'll see you later," he said to Amy.

Amy nodded, but said nothing. Her face reflected her displeasure and concern, but he didn't respond. The decision was made.

He left the room, a move made more difficult by Bobby's death. He felt a tug from his pet, asking him not to go. Not to leave the dog. He almost turned back, but resisted, Bobby was gone. He was resting peacefully in a box in Cassidy's mind, and there he would remain.

https://youtu.be/fe1eeglaf14