His Private Hell - Chapter 136: Chapter 136

It began in silence.
Eella stood on the edge of the abandoned cathedral, the scent of ash thick in the air, wind tearing at her coat, and the night stretching endlessly around her.
Beneath her boots, the earth whispered death.
And somewhere inside—
She was waiting.
She.
The mirror.
The reflection.
The final sin.
Garrison wasn’t supposed to follow.
But monsters never listened.
⸻
He watched her from the shadows, tracking the ragged rhythm of her breath, the tension in her spine, the silent war burning beneath her skin.
“Don’t,” she said, not turning.
“I made you a promise,” he replied.
Her voice cracked.
“She’s me.”
“No,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re you. That thing’s a copy. A ghost. And I don’t let the woman I love face ghosts alone.”
She finally turned.
Eyes glistening.
Haunted.
Grateful.
“I might not survive this.”
“Then I’ll burn with you.”
And just like that—
They walked through the doors together.
⸻
The cathedral was alive.
Walls breathing.
Candles flickering without flame.
Mirrors lining every surface—warped, cracked, dripping like wet glass.
And in the center—
Her.
The Eidolon.
Barefoot.
Eyes black.
Lips curled in a smile that didn’t reach her face.
“You brought him,” she said softly. “Perfect.”
Eella didn’t flinch.
“End this.”
The Eidolon cocked her head.
“End what? I am the end. Of innocence. Of fear. Of denial.”
She stepped forward, slow and graceful.
“I am what they made you to be. Everything you refused to become.”
“You’re an abomination,” Eella whispered.
“I’m liberation.”
She smiled at Garrison.
“He kissed me, you know. In that bar.”
“Shut up,” Eella snapped.
“He didn’t even blink.”
Garrison raised his gun. “You tricked me.”
“I am her,” the Eidolon replied. “Every curve. Every memory. Every moan.”
Eella pulled her blade.
“No, bitch. You’re a mask.”
“And masks,” the Eidolon said, smiling wider, “always fall.”
⸻
The fight didn’t start with fists.
It started with memories.
The Eidolon touched the wall—and suddenly, Eella’s childhood exploded around her.
Flashes of the orphanage.
The surgeries.
The screaming.
The ice baths.
The files marked CHOIR.
Her body froze.
And the Eidolon moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
She was on Eella in seconds—striking, clawing, whispering, I am you, I am better, I am pure—
Eella fought back like wildfire.
Cut her.
Punched her.
Burned her.
But the Eidolon healed too fast.
And she laughed.
“Everything you’ve forgotten—I remember.”
She slammed Eella to the floor.
“I remember the first time they made you watch someone die.”
She pressed her hand to Eella’s temple.
And then—
Eella screamed.
Because it wasn’t a memory.
It was real.
The smell of burning flesh.
The sound of teeth cracking.
The girl—Rhea—tied to a table.
Begging.
Bleeding.
And Eella standing there.
Helpless.
No.
Not helpless.
Obedient.
“You watched,” the Eidolon hissed. “And you did nothing.”
Tears flooded Eella’s eyes.
“Stop—”
“You let them make you. Mold you. Murder you.”
“I didn’t know—”
“You did,” the Eidolon whispered. “And I am what came from that knowing.”
Then—
Gunfire.
Garrison.
The bullet caught the Eidolon in the spine.
She twisted.
Growled.
“You never belonged to her,” she spat. “You were made for monsters.”
“I know,” Garrison said. “But I chose my monster.”
And shot her again.
This time in the heart.
She stumbled.
But she didn’t fall.
Just laughed.
“I am the heart.”
And the mirrors began to shatter.
One by one.
Each explosion ripping through the cathedral.
Fragments slicing flesh.
Blood raining.
And from the shards—
Other faces emerged.
More Eellahs.
Screaming.
Crying.
Begging.
“Don’t look,” Eella rasped.
But Garrison was already bleeding.
Already seeing every version of her that could’ve been.
The broken one.
The killer.
The slave.
The god.
He fell to his knees.
Overwhelmed.
And in that chaos—
The Eidolon came for him.
But Eella moved faster.
Tackled her.
They fell into the broken glass—tearing at each other.
Bleeding together.
Two versions of the same storm.
“You’ll never be free,” the Eidolon rasped.
“Neither will you.”
And then Eella saw it.
The truth.
The thing inside the Eidolon’s chest.
The core.
Not a heart.
Not flesh.
But a key.
The same neural key they implanted in her years ago—the kill switch.
The shutdown command.
If she could just reach—
She stabbed the blade into the Eidolon’s chest.
The girl screamed.
Tried to twist away.
But Eella whispered—
“You’re not me.”
And ripped the key out.
The Eidolon arched.
Convulsed.
And shattered.
Like a mirror finally dropped.
Silence followed.
Total.
Bleeding and shaking, Eella collapsed beside the pieces.
And Garrison crawled to her.
Held her.
Wrapped her in his arms.
“You did it,” he whispered.
“No,” she said softly. “We did.”
And together, they watched the light return.
⸻
The cathedral burned behind them.
Ashes in the air.
Eella stood barefoot in the wet grass, watching the flames rise, smoke curling like prayers into the night sky.
Garrison walked to her.
“No more ghosts,” he said.
“No more mirrors.”
She looked at him.
Really looked.
“What do you see when you look at me now?”
He didn’t hesitate.
“Hell.”
“And?”
“My home.”
She touched his face.
“I think I’m finally ready.”
“For what?”
“To live.”
He kissed her.
Slow.
Fierce.
And behind them, the last shard of mirror turned to dust.
The reflection was gone.
The future waited.