She ran at him with all the energy she had left, desperately hoping to throw him down. It was far too late to save him now, she realised. He was long gone from understanding what she did and why. She had to kill him too, like the others. She would regret doing it for only a little while, but then she would stop grieving and get on with her life, like she knew she had to. As for Molly, well, if she didn’t get to a hospital soon, she’d be dead. And no one would be home for another few hours. Problem solved. Travis was the only thing standing between her and escape.
Travis misjudged how strong she was and fell back to the floor from the impact, hitting his head on the glass table, shattering the top and knocking it over. He could barely see straight and his view of Demi above him was hazy. Demi didn’t know what she was doing, just going off what she could imagine Anastasia doing. An ongoing battle pulled within her, compelling her to strangle him and screaming at her to get off of him. She went for his neck, cutting off his airway. Travis battled to get away from her, but his head was dragging him down, disabling him from making any coordinated movement or use his strength. He couldn’t do much other than struggle and paw at her strong arms around his throat. He weakened and at one point he realised that he was going to die. When he had no energy to hold his arms up in an attempt of protest, they fell to his sides, landing on the shards of glass from the table, not that he noticed the shards piercing his skin. However, he did notice the tip of the knife. Against his hopelessness, he tried to grasp it. Maybe is would show her how close to death she came, he thought. She watched him struggle, watched him grasp for one last breath and watched him give in.
And it was so easy.
Of course it wasn’t easy leading up to that one moment, but just killing him – Travis, her love – was easy. Easier than expected. Too easy perhaps? remorse and guilt flooded her whole being. What had she done? What was she doing? She felt sick and instantly let go of Travis. Was it too late to save him? He wasn’t breathing and he didn’t move.
The voices had left her head. The horrible voice of Anastasia who had prompted her to murder Travis’ family; to murder an innocent child; to kill the man she loved. What had she become? Everything she had done and everything she had thought had happened all came rushing back to her, and she was drowning in her despair. The hollow look on his face made her weep.
“Travis?” she cried, pleading that he would breathe. And then she saw it. His chest rose ever so slightly, and his eyes moved in their sockets as he assessed the situation. A sudden joy welled up in her; but it was only momentary, because the next moment Travis had plunged the knife into her chest. She rolled off him, panicking and gasping in pain. She had never felt anything so painful in her life. Even the injuries she experienced in the past few days combined were dulled with the adrenaline and murderous thoughts and didn’t even compare. Her vision was fading fast, and she knew she had no hope. She would be gone in a matter of seconds. As the life fled from her body, her last sight was of Travis, kneeling above her, looking down with his eternal grief.