Victoria Argent has always tried to be a good mother for Allison, but she’s always felt like a failure.
When Allison was born, she was a bundle of joy for Victoria and Chris. She was their newfound love, a welcome distraction in their life of hunting and killing werewolves. She was their reason to keep fighting, and in return they would shield her from the life of a hunter for as long as they could.
The knife is cool in Victoria’s hands. Chris looks like he’s about to rip it out of her grasp and plunge it into his own chest instead. What would that accomplish? How would that keep Allison safe? Victoria takes in a shaky breath, finding her inner strength, focusing on the thing that’s kept her going for the better part of her life: Allison.
Chris’s eyes are filled to the brim with tears; Victoria can’t look at him anymore. He needs to be strong, stronger than Victoria. He needs to be better. Allison needs him, and she’s always been much closer to Chris than she’s ever been to Victoria.
That’s another reason that Victoria feels like a failure. And the only way to redeem herself is through this. The knife cuts her skin the instant she presses it to her chest. Chris’s sobs are so quiet Victoria’s sure even he doesn’t realize he’s started crying.
“I need your help,” she says, tone flat. “I can’t do it on my own.”
She refuses to look at Chris because it’s like looking at Allison and reliving all the mistakes she’s ever made.
She should have been a better mother, could have been, and would have been if she didn’t need to stay strong all the time. Even now, she’s expected to shove this knife into her chest without regret, without doubt that maybe how she’s been living up to now has been a waste of effort.
Chris holds the end of the blade, lacing his fingers with Victoria’s, his chest a warmth on her back. She needed that and she didn’t even realize. Chris knew though. That’s why they’ve always been so good for each other.
When Victoria closes her eyes, all she can see is every moment she’d ever yelled at Allison instead of explaining why she was angry, every second she’d scared Allison into submission, every instance she’d almost put her hands on Allison to keep her in line.
And the frustration wells up inside her, grows, breaks through her carefully placed gates, and floods through. She can’t control the emotion; something’s different. The change is starting to take effect.
“Now,” she orders, and Chris doesn’t disappoint. The knife slides in easy, and she takes her final breath, grateful that she’ll never second-guess herself again.