Disclaimer: I don't own Being Human.
Authors Notes: My tap has recently sprung a leak. The oddest things can inspire you. Remember, reviews are Love!
Drip, Drip, Drip
It's strange, she muses in hindsight, as George chatters away happily in the background about the newly fixed plumbing. Strange how the house has been talking to them for the last year, warning them, screaming at her through groaning pipes, about the truth. Mitchell said it was like the house had become a part of her when she died, her subconscious taken physical form, trying to tell them what really happened.
But Annie knew it was something more, something beyond a ghost bound to a house. It had started maybe two months before she had awkwardly fallen down the stairs. The tap started leaking one day for no apparent reason. Owen had tried to fix it, but only made it worse. In the middle of the night, as Annie lay in bed, staring out into the darkness, that drip would echo through the silence. Over those long weeks leading up to her untimely death, the leak got worse and worse, louder and louder in the silence, like a clock, ticking ominously in the blackness of the night, counting down.
When she died, the leak stopped and the groaning started.
It was strange, thought Annie, as she refilled the kettle and settled at the kitchen table with her boys. The house had warned her long before she died.
Months later, when George began talking of moving out and Mitchell was becoming more and more withdrawn Annie stood in the kitchen, in the empty house, a chill running through her slight frame. She stood and stared at the tap as the drips echoed loudly through the empty kitchen.