Greg turned to Cassidy and Jazz.

"What is this? You're worse than I thought!"

"It's not us."

"Fuck's sake. You're so fucking sad. You think you can get me with a trick mirror? Once I've got rid of you, I'll smash this piece of junk up. Bury it with your bodies."

"You're not going to kill us," Cass said as confidently as he could.

"I wouldn't bet on that, shithead. It's been a while. I wanna make sure I haven't lost my touch. And you did ask for it by coming for me. Least I can do."

Leave them alone.

"Give it a rest," Greg said. "I ain't impressed."

It's not them, Father.

It's me, Amyboo.

"Woah, you guys did your homework. Anyway," he turned to Cass and Jazz, "I said stop."

"We're not doing anything. It really is her. How do you think we found out about you when the police couldn't?"

"They were fucking useless. I could have had her blood in my arms and they'd miss it."

"Well," Cass said." It really is her, whether you believe it or not. A dumb fuck like you would never understand, anyway."

Greg was on Cassidy before the other could react. Jazz was ripped from his arms and kicked away, and the man's knee was pressing against Cass's chest. His large hands gripped his neck and started to squeeze. He was pressing slowly, increasing pressure gradually, as if there was no rush. Nobody was coming. No one was going to be able to stop him.

Cass grabbed Greg's wrists and tried, futilely, to pull his hands away. He tried to bring his own knees up into Greg's back, but he didn't have the strength to make enough of an impact to be noticed.

Jazz crawled from the end of the bed, where she'd rolled to a stop, and tried to punch Greg's back. Again, it went unnoticed. Amy's father was lost in the act of murder. He had forgotten just how exhilarating it could be. He did notice the girl, but her weak attempts to hurt him only meant she was in easy reach when he'd finished with her brother.

Cassidy's legs had stopped kicking. His arms had dropped to the floor. His struggles were fading.

The pain in Jazz's stomach wanted to remind her it was there and exploded. She grunted and doubled over, suckling air through tightly clenched teeth.

"STOP!"

The voice didn't belong to any of the three in the room. It was younger and decisive and female.

They stopped.

Greg stared at Jazz, who shook her head, smiling through the pain. He stared at Cassidy, who managed a smile too.

He turned and stared at the mirror, the direction the voice had come from. The word was written in large letters.

STOP!

Greg fell back, releasing Cass, and Jazz moved over to her brother. They struggled up to sitting and held each other tightly.

"Fuck off!" Greg yelled.

He was aiming his cry at the glass, rather than the brother and sister. He moved across to stand before the mirror.

"Fuck off," he said.

No Father.

I can't.

You trapped me here.

"Amyboo? How are you here? How are you doing this?"

Don't call me that!

I'll never be Amyboo.

I never was.

"You were. I... I didn't mean it. I'm sorry."

The fight abandoned him at the realisation he was really speaking to his daughter.

I wish you were.

"I am! I really am! I never meant to hurt you!"

Hurting me is all you ever did.

"I've seen it. Seen you. She's telling the truth."

Cass had managed to stand and, with one hand on the wall for support, shuffled towards the man.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I know how you used to treat her. You enjoyed it."

"I... I was sick. Ill. I needed help."

"You needed to treat her like the amazing girl she was. Is!"

"This isn't real. It can't be. Amy's dead. She's dead. I..."

Murdered me.

Greg nodded helplessly. The angry, vicious beast who'd attacked them in the street and then hunted them down and tried to kill them had gone, or was in hiding. This Greg was diminished. This Greg was afraid.

"You need to make it up to her," Cass whispered. He was now standing next to Greg, his mouth next to the man's ear. "You need to show her you're sorry."

On the glass, the image of Amy appeared, sending her father reeling backwards.

"How?" he managed to ask, though whether he was asking how his daughter's face was on the mirror or how he could make amends was unclear.

"Touch the glass." Amy said. "Touch me."

"What? Touch...? No..."

"Show me. I need to feel you mean it."

"I.. I can't. No."

"You don't mean it. It's all lies. I knew it."

"No. I mean yes! I mean... I did enjoy it. I admit it. I wanted to kill you and your mum. And Sarah and Fiona and Eva and... and, just now, Lacey."

"You can't help yourself," Cass said.

He was shocked at there being so many names, and the implication the woman he'd been with earlier was his latest victim. Amy and her mum hadn't been the only ones. They may not have even been the first!

"No, I can't. I can't, but I'm not sorry. They all deserved it. I did them a favour by ending their suffering. And mine."

His fire was returning. Cass could see the set of his jaw tightening and knew he needed to quash it before it was back fully.

"Did Amy deserve it?"

"Yes, Father. Did I?"

That was enough. His daughter asking.

"No. You didn't. I got carried away."

"So, touch the glass and prove it."

"I..."

"It won't hurt you. I've done it myself," Cass told him, spurring him on.

"Prove yourself," Amy said.

"So, I just touch the glass? That's it?"

"That's it. Then I'll believe you."

"OK."

Greg stepped forward and gingerly reached out. His arms were tattooed, but the images were faded and badly drawn, as if self made. Had he done them to inflict pain on himself to taste the pain he visited on others?

If so, it didn't make it right, but at least he had been hurt.

He hesitated with his hand less than an inch from the mirror's surface. He was staring at his hand, as if doing so would enable him to see what might come next.

"Do it, Father."

Still, Greg was hesitant. He was wavering and his hand dropped slightly.

Cass grabbed his wrist and pushed the hand against the glass. A sensation like an electric shock sparked into Cass's body, forcing him to release his hold. Greg tried to pull back, clearly feeling the same thing, but his hand was stuck fast.

"What the fuck? What was that? What have you done?"

"This is nothing to do with me, you bastard."

Cassidy moved back to his sister and crouched down beside her. Jazz, her eyes blurry with pain, wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close.

"Get... Get it off!"

'It' had started as the image of his murdered daughter. It began to swirl rapidly around the hand in a hypnotic spiral moving inwards. And outwards, though not out on the glass. Out of it.

Liquid, the colour of wet blood, enveloped his hand, then moved along his arm to the shoulder. There, it stopped. It was rippling excitedly. The pause was momentary, enough for Greg to not just see what was happening, but take it in. Feel it.

Greg was initially speechless, his brain unable to process it. His silence stopped when his screams began. Not only screams of terror. Screams of agony. As the liquid moved on to his neck, a fainter pink edge could be seen advancing ahead of the main covering. It seemed to be burrowing into the skin. There was also an odour. Faint at first, but growing stronger.

Burning flesh.

"What... What are you doing to me? Make it stop!"

Cassidy and Jazz didn't say anything. They didn't want anything to detract from the horror he was experiencing. It wouldn't come close to how Amy had felt.

Once Greg's body was covered, the liquid moved up over his head and face. It left his eyes, nose and mouth until last, so he remained fully conscious throughout. His screams descended into a strangled croak and then silence.

"What's happening?" Jazz whispered.

She let go of her brother and inched forward, captivated.

"Don't get too..."

It was too late.

Somehow, Greg's body jerked, and his unattached hand flicked out. It landed on Jazz's leg and grabbed. She shrieked and tried to pry it off, but the liquid slid onto her hands too, fixing them in place. It moved faster now, covering her in a mere seconds. Cassidy tried to pull her free, shouting for Amy to stop, but, when the red was almost upon him, he had to admit defeat, lest it ensnared him, too.

Once they were fully enveloped, Greg started to move into the mirror. He was slipping through the glass in less time than either the burglar or Bobby had. It was as if Amy was eager to suck her father into her world. She couldn't know Jazz was also attached, could she?

"Amy," Cass cried. "Amy! Give her back, please! You've got my sister! You've got Jazz!"

There was no answer. Her face had gone from the mirror, and even the smudge from the top had vanished.

"Amy! Jazz! JAZZ!"

The silence, in such contrast to the cacophony that had gone before, was heavier than anything Cass had been exposed to at any point in his life. He didn't know what to say or do. He was panting. His hands were on the floor in front of the mirror. Blood still dripped, albeit slowly, from the wound on his temple. He was... lost.

The stillness expanded, taking in the entire bedroom and filling it with an ominous nothing that echoed the one Cassidy felt inside.

How could this have happened? How could it have gone so far? Ethan was lying somewhere badly hurt. Unconscious, from what Amy's father had said. And, now, Jazz was gone too, the last, spiteful gesture of a crazed man.

There was a small, anxious bark from the landing. Bobby scampered in, ran to his owner, and jumped up, forcing Cass to sit back and hold him. He was trembling.

"It's OK, boy. There's nothing to worry about. I've got you."

But it wasn't OK. There was so much to worry about. Cass had him, but what good was that? What good was he when he couldn't save his own sister and her unborn child? Why couldn't it have been him instead of her?

"Jazz?" he called, though the volume was a low as his mood. "Jazz?"

She couldn't answer. Jazz was gone.

"Amy? Are you there?" Amy, too, seemed to be gone, but Cassidy tried again. If any of them could still communicate, it had to be Amy. She'd grown stronger from... ingesting the burglar. "Amy?"

Cass Cass.

"Amy! What happened? You've got Jazz!"

Yes.

I'm sorry.

That wasn't meant to happen.

Supposed to be just him.

"I know, but that's not what happened. You got her! Didn't you know? Couldn't you stop it?"

I couldn't stop.

It's me.

My

Self

That writes.

That takes.

"You? But I had you on my finger. You came off when I rubbed it."

Not that. Not then.

Since other night.

Once started I don't see.

I don't know.

I can't stop.

"Why not? If it's you? You took Jazz!"

If I stop,

I'm gone.

Mirror is...

I can't explain.

I'm sorry!

"So... she's dead? Jazz is gone?"

I couldn't help it.

I needed to stop him.

The list of victim's names ran through his head of their own accord. They were telling him his sister had been sacrifices for the greater good. It prevented any more being killed.

Yeah, so that made it OK. That meant everything was fine with the world. He pushed the names from his mind as if swatting mental flies. He understood all that. It didn't help.

Amy did need to stop her father, that was true. But, why did he have to do that? Why did Jazz's leg have to be so close?

Why??

Cass Cass.

"What?"

For you.

He began to ask what she meant. What was 'for him?' The mirror was clear, apart from Amy's words and they faded as he watched. So, what?

Then he saw movement. Faint, as if it had been a trick of his tired, damaged eyes, a shadow appeared. It lingered, briefly, then disappeared. Had he imagined it?

No.

It returned, more distinct this time. Still a shadow, but with more substance., darkening rapidly by the second. It was moving. Faint tendrils of mist drifted from the form as it grew in size, and Cassidy couldn't help the feeling it was getting closer. That would mean there was depth within the mirror, but how could there be?

How could there be lots of things?

The figure stopped as it seemed to reach the boundary between the inner and outer worlds. He could make out the legs, torso, arms and head, but there was a complete lack of detail.

Had the father come back to finish what he'd started? He'd wanted to remove Cassidy and his siblings from his path so he could continue with his slayings. There had to have been something about him for him to avoid capture for so long. Did that mean he could escape from Amy's clutches?

The mirror and the wardrobe holding it shuddered. The figure placed a hand on the inside of the glass and pushed. Cassidy steeled himself, taking on a fighting posture remembered from his youth and bringing his fists up. The move flashed a jab of pain through his head and he grimaced, but he didn't drop his guard.

Then, when he saw the hand emerge, with the body behind it, he did allow his arms to fall by his sides.

Jazz?

JAZZ?

"Jazz!"

His sister smiled at him.

"Hi, Fuck Face," she said.

He was about to throw his arms around her when something else stopped him.

"Meet your new nephew," she said, looking down at the newborn baby in her arms.

Dumfounded, Cassidy could only stare, wide eyed, at the baby. He was wrapped in a thick white blanket, and was sleeping soundly.

"What? How?"

"I don't know," Jazz said. "I think... I was dead, and so was he, and then I wasn't. And then nor was he!"

"But, how?"

"I don't know. I heard a voice. I think it was Amy's, then I heard yours. I followed it and... and here I am."

Cassidy, gentler than he expected to, wrapped his arms around his sister and nephew and held them tight. And cried.

https://youtu.be/82jGt1U8tgc

This is the penultimate chapter of MirrorMirror, a story that was meant to be only 2,500 words long. I've thoroughly enjoyed writing it, and choosing music to accompany each chapter.

I massively appreciate all your reads, votes and comments. Thank you for being amazing!