SHE STOOD IN THE middle of the lawn, arms outstretched, her face turned toward the sea. Her flimsy cotton skirt, drenched by the relentless rain, clung to her body, making her seem almost naked in the moonlight. The wind whipped her hair around her head.
Behind her, standing at the second-story window of the old house on the hill, a man strained to see her more clearly through the violent storm that raged all around them.
What the hell is she doing?
The wind howled and gusts threw the rain against the glass pane like so many pebbles tossed carelessly at a lover's window, obscuring his view. For a moment, dizziness almost overtook him. He glanced down at the floor. The pool of blood was larger now. He pressed a towel to his side, trying to stem its flow. Then, unable to help himself, he looked out the window again.
Her arms were now raised to the sky and, in the moonlight, he could see she held something in her hand. Thunder roared, shaking the house. Black spots appeared before his eyes and he feared he would lose consciousness.
Is this how it's all going to end? After everything that's happened? Right here, in this house?
His attention was abruptly diverted by the sound of a car pulling in the driveway, its headlights rapidly approaching.
What now? he thought as thunder shook the room again and he was blinded by the flash of lightning that followed.
Then all was silent.
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