His Private Hell - Chapter 54: Chapter 54

The Edge Of Oblivion
Eella stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for Thirty-Three without looking at Garrison. The doors closed, and the small flash of his eyes met hers in the mirror—equal parts warning and invitation.
When the doors opened, the corridor was colder than she remembered, the muted gold lighting casting long shadows. Garrison followed silently behind, hand grazing her lower back like a promise of both pleasure and pain.
They reached the familiar black door. No hesitation this time. Eella swiped Darcie’s old key at the scanner. The lock clicked.
Inside, the room had changed. Where once lay a simple gravestone and velvet walls, now stood rows of glass cases—each containing a single, preserved object: a locket, a letter, a bloodstained glove. Darcie’s—Garrison’s past laid bare like a ritual of confession.
Eella’s pulse thundered as she stepped forward. The first case held a torn photograph of Darcie in happier times, her eyes bright. Beneath it, a brass plaque read:
“She believed in salvation.”
Tears caught in Eella’s throat. She reached out, finger brushing the glass.
A soft click—Garrison had pressed a hidden switch. The cases slid open simultaneously.
He stood behind her, voice low: “Everything you need to know is here. But you must choose what to believe.”
Eella inhaled, courage mingling with dread. She moved swiftly from display to display: Darcie’s diary pages—filled with hope and fear; Garrison’s apology letters—never sent; a vial of clear serum labeled Project Lucidity.
Her heart raced. “Project Lucidity…”
Garrison nodded. “The cure that became a curse.”
She turned to face him, eyes blazing. “And you? What were you to her?”
He closed the distance, brushing a hand over her cheek. “I was her salvation and her undoing.”
Eella steadied herself against the wall. “Then show me the rest.”
He took her hand and led her deeper, toward the final display. Under spotlights lay a single key—twisted, blackened, labeled simply “Final Exit.”
Her breath caught. “What does it open?”
“Your choice,” he whispered. “End this hell… or step into it.”
Eella’s world narrowed to the key’s jagged edges. Every secret, every wound, every whisper of Darcie’s ghost pressed against her skin.
She lifted the key. Garrison’s hand found hers. Their fingers entwined, heat sparking between them.
“Together?” he asked, voice cracked.
Eella pressed the key into his palm. “Always.”
Before the moment broke, he crushed her into the glass cases, hunger and fear colliding, and they kissed like two souls on the brink of oblivion—burning brighter than any hell.
Eella pushed herself upright from the cold metal slab, her skin sticky with sweat, her pulse still erratic. Garrison had stepped away, pacing slowly in the sterile room like a man reeling from a high he hadn’t wanted to feel. The name he whispered still echoed in her skull.
Darcie.
Eella wrapped the remnants of her blouse around herself, but it did nothing to conceal the bruising truth on her body. Not just the evidence of his passion—but the ghost of a dead woman clinging to every inch of his obsession.
“You still dream about her,” she said flatly.
He stopped pacing. His head dipped forward, just enough to betray the answer.
“Is that why you fuck me like I’m about to disappear?”
His gaze snapped to hers, volcanic. “You think I’m gentle?”
She stepped off the slab, chest rising defiantly. “I think you’re terrified. That if you touch me too carefully, I’ll vanish like she did. That’s why you use your teeth. That’s why you need to mark me.”
“I mark what’s mine,” he growled.
Eella’s mouth curled. “Then maybe you shouldn’t whisper someone else’s name when you come.”
The slap of tension between them was instant.
Garrison reached her in two strides, grabbing her chin in a bruising grip. “You knew what this was.”
“I thought I did,” she said. “But now I’m starting to think I’m not your next sin. I’m your punishment.”
He flinched.
And that, more than anything, made her blood turn to ice.
He let her go.
Eella stepped past him and walked up the stairs without another word. The cold was unbearable now. Not just in her body, but in the hollowed-out space where his gaze had once set her aflame.
Upstairs, she dressed in silence, each button shaking under her fingertips. The moment she pulled open the penthouse door, his voice called from behind.
“She tried to kill me, Eella.”
She froze.
“She smiled when she did it. Told me it was the only way to make me real. That I was just a shadow without pain.”
Eella didn’t look back. “Then maybe you should stop chasing her ghost by setting new women on fire.”
And then she left.
Eella’s heart thundered in her chest as she walked into the night, the bite of the cold air failing to cut through the smoldering tension that lingered in her skin, in her bones. She had dared to speak the unspeakable—to challenge the foundations of what she and Garrison were building on this path of ruin.
What happened between them was nothing like love. It wasn’t even passion anymore. It was obsession. A twisted, suffocating obsession that she couldn’t seem to escape, no matter how much she wanted to.
Her hands trembled as she reached for her phone. She wasn’t sure if she was looking for a distraction or an answer, but she couldn’t stop herself from tapping out a quick message.
Are you watching me?
The phone buzzed almost immediately, his name flashing on the screen.
You didn’t have to leave.
His words twisted inside her, unraveling something deep inside her gut. He didn’t want her to leave. Not because he cared about her. Not because he needed her. But because he couldn’t control himself, couldn’t control the dark parts of him that were crawling beneath the surface.
She looked down at the phone, hesitating.
I’m not your redemption.
You never were.
The words hit her harder than anything else he’d ever said. She didn’t know if that was supposed to make her feel better or worse. But there was no time to dwell on it. The shadows in the night felt colder now, more threatening, and for the first time since she’d walked away, she wondered if walking back to him might have been the better option.
But she couldn’t let herself be dragged back into his hell. Not again.
⸻
Hours passed, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of his presence, like an invisible shadow lurking just behind her every step. The way his eyes haunted her, the way his touch branded her even when he wasn’t near. Her apartment was too small, too suffocating.
Finally, she collapsed onto her couch, staring at the dark ceiling as her mind replayed everything.
The way he looked at her—like she was his salvation.
The way he made her feel—like she was everything and nothing at once.
The pain that gnawed at her every time she let herself get too close to him, and the way she craved it.
It was all a lie, she reminded herself. All of it.
And yet, despite the chaos inside her, despite the burning desire to tear herself free from him, something in her couldn’t let go. She wasn’t done yet. Not with him. Not with the truth that still lurked beneath the surface.
She didn’t know how long she stayed there, caught between the need to forget and the urge to confront the darkness.
But then, the knock came.
Her pulse quickened.
She hesitated for a moment, her breath shallow. The knock came again. Stronger this time.
There was no escaping him.
⸻
When she opened the door, she was greeted by a silent storm. Garrison stood in the hallway, his features drawn tight with tension. His eyes—those molten depths that always seemed to see straight into her—held a mixture of something unfamiliar. Was it regret? Anger? Or was it just his usual thirst for control?
“Eella…” His voice was low, almost pleading, but his presence was pure, overwhelming command. “I know you hate me. But I need you. Come back inside.”
She didn’t move.
“I’m not yours,” she said, the words tasting like poison in her mouth.
His jaw tightened, and for the briefest moment, she saw a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze. But it was gone before she could process it. He was back in control, the monster wrapped in a tailored suit, hiding the bloodied man beneath.
“I know what you think of me,” he muttered, taking a step closer. “But I’m not the man you want to hate. I’m not the man you think I am. I just… I just don’t know how to be anything else with you.”
A part of her wanted to step back, to tell him to leave. To push him out of her life for good.
But another part of her—a part she couldn’t seem to control anymore—stepped forward. Her hand reached out, brushing his chest, feeling the hard heat of him beneath her fingertips.
The air between them crackled with electricity, thick with tension, heavy with unspoken words.
“You don’t get it, do you?” she whispered, her voice shaking slightly. “I’m not your salvation. You’re the one who’s broken, Garrison. And I can’t fix you.”
His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with an almost painful grip, his gaze darkening. “You think you can walk away from me, Eella?” He was so close now, she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “You think you can leave me when I’ve marked you? When I’ve claimed you?”
His breath was ragged, his face inches from hers. “I’m not letting you go. You’re mine.”
The words hit her like a physical blow, and before she could stop herself, she found her lips crashing against his. The kiss was ferocious, raw, all teeth and desperation, a fight for control they both knew they couldn’t win.
He kissed her like a man drowning, and she kissed him back with equal desperation. The heat between them was suffocating, and yet she couldn’t pull away.
His hands were on her body, pulling at her clothes, tearing them away as if he couldn’t wait another second. She let him, feeling the roughness of his touch, the brutality of his need.
She wasn’t supposed to want this. She wasn’t supposed to want him.
But as his mouth claimed hers again, she realized that she had already given herself to him in ways she couldn’t take back. She was his now.
And no matter how much she tried to fight it, she would always be his.