Thomas woke up with a splitting headache that felt as though someone were driving a wedge into his skull and splitting his head in two. His back was also aching from the hard wooden table he'd slept on all night. He was startled when he saw a claw reach out from a cage not too far from where he swung his legs over the side which took a swipe at him, nearly get himself scratched. Still with the pounding headache, and dressed only in his slightly hardened and dry underwear, Thomas jumped off the table and rushed to the door, only to be blinded by it opening and light streaming forth into the otherwise darkened basement.
"Good morning! I hope you found the basement appropriately comfortable," shouted the old witch, knowing the hangover he was experiencing was only amplified by her spell.
"Could you not yell, please?" asked Thomas.
"I don't know what you mean, young man, I'm speaking normally," lied the old witch with a continued yell, causing Thomas to grimace as he plodded up the steps in his bare feet. The witch was about to cast a spell on him before he reached the top of the steps, but he stopped when he could see the old witch's face and look her straight in them, with a hand up to shade them from the light.
"Thank you for the place to sober up, I... well, I shouldn't have drunken so much."
All the plans to turn Thomas into yet another creature fell away. An apology, especially a genuine one was worth something to her, after all. That didn't mean he'd get off scot-free, especially with how little Lizzy changed last night. No, he'd receive a different sort of "wake up call" than being turned into a creature. "No, you shouldn't have," agreed the witch. She stepped out of the doorway and allowed Thomas to exit from the basement, as she did she whispered a spell under her breath that would take advantage of Thomas' hangover and leave his mind open to whatever she suggested rewriting his memories.
"Especially for a young father like yourself with such a sweet little baby girl that you have," said the witch as she grabbed his bicep as he moved to pass.
"Baby girl?" asked Thomas, confused, his hangover still hurting tremendously. Images of stumbling through the dark with his twin sister Elizabeth suddenly shifting to him drunkenly stumbling through the woods with a baby wrapped against his body.
"Your clothes are dry, I'll go get them. Take a seat, young man."
Thomas did as he was obliged and found the old witch returned with his clothes and shoes, all freshly cleaned.
"Thank you. You didn't have to wash them, Ma'am, I'm just happy they're dry," said Thomas appreciatively as he accepted his jeans, t-shirt, socks, and hiking shoes. She also included a pair of fresh boxers that she said belonged to an old flame of hers who wouldn't be needing them. He was directed to a screen in the corner of the room where he could change behind for modesty's sake, which Thomas took advantage of. As he pulled on his clothes, he felt his hangover oddly easing up. His shirt felt a little big on him, but he shrugged it off as just his imagination. When he was fully dressed, he stuffed his stiff pair of boxers he'd slept in into his pocket and then noticed that the splitting hangover he felt was now a little numb somehow.
"Thank you again, Ma'am... how's El--Lizzy?" asked Thomas, feeling odd about calling her Elizabeth suddenly.
"She was still sleeping when I checked in on her in the guest room. Why don't you check on her while I make us some breakfast?" asked the witch. Thomas stood and went to the door he'd been pointed towards, and opened it to find an old-fashioned nursery, where laying inside a crib was Lizzy, his year old daughter sucking on a pacifier and dressed in nothing but a diaper.
Wait... daughter? He'd come here with his sis--daughter. Lizzy had been born a year ago yesterday to his college sweetheart Megan who... well, hadn't survived the birth. That's why he'd been drinking so much, because he had been trying to forget Megan who he couldn't help see in the face of his daughter at times. He'd gotten totally hammered and judging by the baby wrap that had been hung on the crib, he'd taken out Lizzy with him and stumbled through the forest drinking and getting lost until that storm had drenched them both. Suddenly, Thomas felt horrible. He'd put his own daughter's safety at risk by drinking and wandering around the woods--if he hadn't stumbled upon this kind old woman's house... god knows what would have happened.
Lizzy looked up at Thomas and smiled and cooed at him, kicking her feet before with some effort rolling over and sitting up.
"I'm such a horrible father... oh god, Lizzy, I'm sorry... I'm so so sorry. No more drinking. I swear to you, never again."
Thomas reached in and picked Lizzy up, as he did, the last effects of the old witch's spell settled in, causing his gut to protrude just a little bit, giving himself a bit of an early taste of a dad bod. His shirt now no longer felt so loose.
Lizzy cooed, the spell affecting her mind as well to start thinking of Thomas not as her brother, but as Dada. Memories of last night and of all the preceding years faded away as Dada held her close and cried.
"Breakfast is ready," called the witch, knowing that the new circumstances would have taught Thomas to be more responsible moving forward--something he had in him, given his politeness when not blitzed, but now fully unlocked that he now saw himself as a father.