His Private Hell - Chapter 113: Chapter 113

The echo of her own heartbeat filled the void as Eella stood on the edge of the pit—Lazarus’s Obedience Room. Below, the machinery hummed like a living thing, belts and pulleys groaning under unseen weight. Chains hung from the ceiling, swinging gently in the stale air. Garrison’s voice cracked through her mind: Don’t go in alone.
She stepped forward.
The doors clanged shut behind her. Light dimmed. The only illumination came from a single, swinging lamp overhead, casting her shadow large and monstrous on the far wall. She pressed her palm to the cold steel of the control panel. Trembling fingers tapped the override code Garrison had given her: 1923—the year Lazarus created his first Choir subject. The lock released.
Inside was worse than she imagined. A long corridor lined with viewing windows, each revealing a separate chamber. Each chamber held a silhouette strapped to a metal table, wires snaking into flesh, eyes closed, mouths open in silent screams. Each one was her reflection—women with her hair color, same high cheekbones, same broken expressions.
She swallowed. Darcie had called this the Obedience Room—the crucible where Lazarus tested his newest Choir recruits. Those who survived emerged believing they were chosen. Those who didn’t… disappeared.
A hiss sounded behind her. She spun to see Garrison against the glass, eyes haunted. He pressed a finger to his lips, then pointed to the far end.
Eella squared her shoulders and walked forward. Each step was a confession: I’m here. I’m still here.
At the end of the corridor, a heavy door stood ajar. Beyond it, the core chamber pulsed with red light. The air tasted of iron and fear.
“Eella.”
She froze.
Darcie emerged from the crimson glow, half-shrouded in chains, her skin glistening with sweat and something darker—ecstasy? Triumph? The lines between pain and pleasure had dissolved in her.
Darcie smiled. “You came back.”
Eella’s lips were dry. “I need to know what they did to you.”
“It wasn’t what they did. It was what I let them do.” Darcie gestured behind her to the central dais, where a single chair stood—silver straps gleaming. “This was my throne.”
Garrison stepped beside Eella, fists clenched. “You agreed to this.”
“My choice.” Darcie’s voice was sultry. “Obedience was freedom. Pain was salvation.” She traced her collarbone. “Every Choir member dies twice—once when they enter, once when they awaken.”
Eella’s heart thundered. “Then what happened to you?”
Darcie’s eyes softened. “The second death was beautiful.”
The ground trembled. The chains rattled. From behind them, a low mechanical roar grew.
Garrison grabbed Eella’s arm. “We need to leave. Now.”
But Darcie merely laughed—a sound that twisted corners of the chamber. “You should stay.”
Before Eella could react, the dais chair lit up. Motors engaged. The chair slid forward on rails, turning slowly, presenting Darcie like an offering. She climbed on willingly, entwining her chains around her wrists and ankles.
“Darcie—”
She cut him off. “I’m not that girl anymore.”
The chains tightened. Bolts slid home. Darcie’s smile turned feral. “I’m Lazarus’s masterpiece. And tonight, Eella, you’ll become one too.”
The chair jolted into its core dock. Metal plates lowered around Darcie, sealing her in a cocoon of wires. Screens flickered to life, displaying vital signs—her heart rate, brain waves spiking with every breath. A countdown appeared: 00:05:00.
Garrison pressed his forehead to the glass. “You can’t let this happen.”
Eella’s chest burned. She lifted her hand, trembling. “Then help me stop him.”
He shook his head, tears in his eyes. “I don’t know how.”
Darcie’s voice crackled through hidden speakers. “It’s simple. You must submit. You must enter the Obedience Room and take my place.”
Eella’s blood ran cold. “You can’t be serious.”
“Obedience unlocks power,” Darcie purred. “Freedom was an illusion. Only through surrender do you gain control.”
The timer ticked down: 00:04:45.
Garrison’s eyes darted between Eella and Darcie’s sealed form. “This is suicide.”
Darcie laughed. “You both forget—I made the rules.”
Eella felt the weight of every Choir’s fallen whisper in her veins. She took a step forward. “I’ll do it.”
Garrison grabbed her. “No.”
She jerked free. “Or she dies.”
The timer: 00:04:30.
Darcie’s laughter softened. “Yes, darling. Save me.”
Eella turned to Garrison. “I have to.”
He reached for her, eyes pleading. “I’ll go with you.”
She shook her head. “No. They’ll only hurt you worse.”
He swallowed. “Then I’ll die trying to save you.”
The timer: 00:04:00.
Eella squared her shoulders, pain and resolve tangled in her gaze. She walked to the central dais. Each step echoed like a funeral drum. Garrison followed, fists clenched, heart breaking.
Darcie’s screen flickered down to 00:03:30.
Eella climbed the steps. Garrison reached to stop her—then remembered the promise in her eyes. She set her jaw and climbed into the chair.
Metal arms extended, securing her wrists and ankles. She slid down into the saddle. Garrison’s hand shot out but couldn’t reach her.
She looked at him. “I love you.”
He closed his eyes. “I love you too.”
The chair sealed. Bolts locked. A hiss of gas seeped out. Darcie’s final whisper crackled through the speakers: “Welcome home.”
The countdown hovered at 00:03:00.
Eella’s pulse jumped. Lights flickered. The chamber vibrated with anticipation.
Then, the door burst open. Chains rattled and wrenched free. Garrison charged in, tearing wires from consoles, smashing machinery. He reached the control panel, frantically smashing buttons.
But the timer stayed. 00:02:45.
Darcie’s voice echoed: “Obedience is power.”
Garrison screamed, pounding the glass. Eella pressed her palms flat, fighting panic.
He ripped a cable free. Sparks flew. Fuse boxes blown. Lights died.
Darkness.
Silence.
And then, only Darcie’s final words hovered: “Only she who surrenders can truly rule.”
The last thing Eella felt was the cold hiss of gas filling her lungs.