43. The monster I became

The crowds had already scattered—but the news cameras were still rolling.

Aiden collapsed.

She ran to his side. Aiden lay before her, breath shallow, lips curling slightly at the edges.

A smile.

"Hey," he murmured, voice weak.

"It's okay…"

Marisol choked back a sob.

"Aiden, don't—"

"You can still be… the person you want to be," he whispered.

"Just promise…promise me you won't give up on yourself."

His hand went limp.

His body stilled.

And Marisol—

Broke.

Marisol's scream was swallowed by the storm.

Her body collapsed forward, shaking, nails digging into aidens clothes as if clawing at the world itself to rewind time. To undo this.

But time… only moved forward.

The sirens became distant. Meaningless.

She closed her eyes feeling her body sink into the shadows, disappearing into the abyss beneath her.

Her breath shuddered.

When she looked up—she was transported somewhere else.

A forest, park, or maybe a hiking trail it was hard for her to tell. Nor did she care.

The moment her feet hit the damp earth, Marisol knew something was wrong.

The weight of the rain pressed down on her, soaking through her clothes, chilling her to the bone—but that wasn't what made her breath hitch in panic.

It was the silence.

No whispers. No shadows curling at her feet. No comforting hum of power waiting beneath her skin.

She clenched her fists, inhaling sharply, and tried to summon it—tried to reach out.

Nothing.

Her hands trembled. Her vision blurred.

"No… no, no, no—this isn't right."

Her voice cracked as she stumbled forward, pressing her palm to a nearby tree, desperate.

She reached again. She called for the power—the shadows, the whispers, Eri.

"Come back." Her breath came short and ragged. "Please—someone—"

Nothing answered.

Her pulse pounded in her ears as panic crawled up her throat, suffocating her. Her legs gave out beneath her, knees slamming into the cold, wet earth.

Her hands fisted into the mud, nails digging into the dirt as she screamed.

"Eri!"

Silence.

She gasped, her chest heaving.

"Anyone—please—"

Her voice wavered, breaking apart. She

slammed her fists against the ground, as if trying to force something—anything—to respond.

But there was only the forest.

Only the rain.

Only the emptiness.

Her shoulders shook. Her throat tightened.

For the first time in her life, she was alone.

The trees loomed, as she wandered into view.

She didnt know for how long. But eventually the cops found her. The cuffs inevitability clamped tight against her wrists.

She had been caught.

And the world had already decided what she was before locking her away.

Insane.

Marisol sat in a cold, sterile room. Padded walls. Thin blankets. Restraints hung loose at her wrists.

The asylum.

Her gaze was distant, dull—watching nothing, waiting for no one.

And yet, she was at peace accepting her sentence.

"It was… the day of my eighteenth birthday," her voice croaked, barely a whisper. "That I heard the call…"

Her brown eyes, once hollow, shimmered faintly a crimson red.

"The Doom tree… finally called to me."

Her fingers traced the faded pattern of wilted roses on the hospital sheets.

"And that was when… I became her."

Her voice broke into a soft, reverent whisper.

"Eri."

The scene faded to white.

The real marisol stood in the empty space, staring forward.

On the other side—stood her.

The other Marisol.

No…

The demon she had become. Pale as moonlight, draped in flowing gothic black layered with crimson and wilted roses, the floral embroidery blooming down her dress like something once beautiful, now rotted. Red eyes—familiar, pained, full of grief.

A twisted reflection.

"Eri," Marisol breathed.

The other Marisol smiled, soft, almost gentle. "You figured it out."

"You were me… all along."

Their fates were intertwined.

"But it's okay," the demon said, smiling softly. "I'll protect you. I'll be the monster, so you don't have to be."

Marisol shook her head.

"No."

The other her tilted her head.

"You don't have to anymore," Marisol whispered, stepping forward. Her fingers hovered, trembling. "You've done enough. It's okay. You can stop now."

Eri's lips trembled. She shook her head. "I… can't. I'm just a memory. A quantum entanglement that shouldn't exist. What's left of me is… barely real."

Marisol's heart ached. "Then where's the real you?"

Eri smiled faintly. "Out there. Still fighting. Still bleeding for you. She's not ready to give up—not yet."

Marisol's breath hitched.

"That's not what I want," she whispered.

"You both… deserve a happy ending too."

A flicker of something passed through her doppelgänger's eyes.

A shadow of understanding.

"You're too kind," she murmured.

The stuffed bunny in Marisol's hands—what was left of Eri—began to fade, petal by petal.

"You're not… a monster," Marisol whispered. "You were never the monster."

Eri's eyes drifted upward—distant, as if staring through time itself. "The day I crossed… the day I came to save us… I heard her."

"Her?" Marisol's brows furrowed.

Eri nodded slowly, fingers ghosting over the fading shape of the bunny. "Sylva the true light of the otherworld. As I walked through the crack, swallowed by the Otherworld's light… I heard her voice one last time."

Marisol swallowed hard. "What did she say?"

Eri's lips trembled.

"'Save them…'" Eri whispered, voice breaking. "At first, I thought… she meant you."

A pause—Eri's breath shuddered.

"But the way she said it…I think she meant more than just us. She meant Aiden and lila as well."

Marisol's breath caught.

"She wanted someone to save him," Eri whispered. "From his death… from that ending. She wanted someone… anyone… to save both of you."

The space between them vibrated with unsaid grief.

And as it disappeared—

She woke up.

Back in the Church

Marisol gasped, eyes flying open, breath ragged.

The church ceiling loomed above her, candlelight flickering in distorted patterns across the cracked stone.

She was back.

Carlos—still standing over her—arched a brow.

"Welcome back, did you sleep well?"

Marisol's fingers curled.

Her pulse thundered.

The dream was fading—but the feeling remained.

And something inside her had changed.