Waiting Up For You To Rescue Me

Knock. Knock. She stands alone at the door. A doorbell goes off. Rain falls. She stands outside, alone. _Walk away?_ Thoughts are processed, seconds allowed to pass. Decisions are made. The door is tested, found to be lacking an adequately prepared locking mechanism, opened. Her eyes scan the room. _Stood up?_ Neurons fire, the scene is scanned, analyzed. Her eyes examine every detail, facts are computed, determinations are made. She will inquire further. A draft is felt. _The basement? Why would he be in the basement?_ Steps are taken, a path is followed that ends in a basement door and a poorly lit staircase, ominous in its construction. She tries the switch. Staircase now slightly luminous. She proceeds. Down the steps, she discovers water. _He is not here._ She calls his name. Wonders why this wasn't attempted earlier. Perhaps failure to hear knock associated with failure to hear. "Shea?" No response. She sees a figure. In water, face down. "Shea!" She forgets to scan, forgets to kick off heels. Runs.