She was sitting in the old chair by the window, looking out on the heavy rain. The gongs from the grandfather clock could hardly be heard over the sound on the raindrops hitting the walls. She had been sitting there for hours.
She remembered the day it had happened. The sound of the clock would always remind her. The day he fell down the stairs.
It was midnight.
At the eleventh gong the clock made a strange sound. Silence.
She got up from the chair, walked over to the grandfather clock. Opened the hatch. She couldn’t see anything wrong.
She heard a sound from the basement. She froze. Stood there, looking at the door. With a shaking hand she turned the handle. In the light from the lonely light bulb in the ceiling she saw water. The basement was flooded. The insurance company would probably pay the damage, but it was a problem. They could find it. The grave. She stepped down the stair to have a look. Maybe she could fix it herself? She took a couple of steps more.
Something moved in the water.
She fell. Down the stairs, into the water. It was deeper than she had thought. She swam towards the stairs, breathing heavily. Hands grabbed her. Pulled her down. She screamed. It was him. He was awake. He pushed her under the water, held her there.
Held her until she stopped breathing.