MirrorMirror

28 / A Dicken's Carol

Knowing he had no chance of reaching his laptop, Cassidy, still moving, winced as it collided with the wall.

Except...

There was no collision.

He stumbled to a halt. The computer was floating in front of him, only millimetres from the wall it had been flying towards. It turned in the air until the screen and keyboard were facing him. There was a soft tapping sound, and he saw the keys depressed by an unseen hand. In the search bar of the browser, Amy was writing a message.

He assumed it was Amy, unless his laptop was now also haunted.

I SAID NO!

She had said no. Yes, indeed. Cass had told himself he'd listen to her. It was Amy's choice, and no one else's. So why didn't he listen to either of them? Why had he been so obstinate and insistent that he knew best? Was Elise right when she'd said he didn't listen?

No. She wasn't. He usually did listen. On this occasion, however, he'd believed he knew best. In an entirely unfamiliar position, he was entirely prepared. He knew what needed to be done, against the objections of the main participant. That wasn't him. Elise had a habit of ensuring everyone listened to her. She would speak over you, in an even, yet piercing tone. It drilled into your ears to the point you had to take notice or you'd fear your brain would fry and leak out of your ears to puddle on your shoulders and drip down your arms.

It'd be a nightmare to get out, too.

He took hold of the laptop and pulled it towards him, expecting it to come freely. It lingered, as if tacked in place by ectoplasmic tape. Come on Amy. Let go.

"I'm sorry," he said, aware apologies were becoming more commonplace than he'd prefer. "I thought it was for the best, and you were just afraid. I'll listen to you in future."

Tap, tap, tap.

OK.

The device was freed, and Cass closed the lid. That's enough of that. For now, at least. He returned to the mirror, holding the computer close to his chest.

"If you don't want to find the man who did this to you, that's up to you. I won't interfere. If you change your mind, I'll help."

Thank you.

I'm not ready.

Not yet.

After seven years, she wasn't ready? How long was it going to take?

"I understand. It's your..." He was going to say 'life,' but stopped himself. "Decision."

It is, yes.

I don't want you hurt.

And you would be.

The guy was a murderer, so she probably had a point. Murderers tended to not be nice people. The type to be avoided. Cass should keep that in mind the next time he wanted to take control and not listen to sound advice. Amy knew the man. She knew what he'd done to her, and it would likely have been violent. His ego could take the day off for the sake of self preservation and empathy.

"You're right."

I know.

Let's change the subject, eh?

"So... How do you do that?"

How did I do what?

"With the laptop. How did you make it fly through the air? For that matter, how did you do that on the stairs, too?"