Masquerade {A Penderry's Bizzare Fanfic}《COMPLETED ✔️》

•Chapter Two•

"Please turn on your magic beam, Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream." - Mr. Sandman, The Chordettes, 1954

Westman clicked his fingers and a fire began to crackle in the elegantly crafted fireplace, noticing Blaire's slight shivers even when she tried to hide them. She was going to catch a cold if she didn't warm up soon and so he took off his long tailed coat and gently placed it on her shoulders.

"Thank you, Freddie." said Blaire, a ghost smile creeping onto her lips. "You didn't have to do this for me, you know."

Westman shook his head. "Your thanks is not needed. You are regaining your complexion, that is a good sign."

The back of his hand touched Blaire's cheek, remorse shimmering in his eyes as the familiar coldness reminded him of the mistake he had made all those years ago. "It's my fault...I did this to you. To all of you. I have tainted our family name, and for that I am sorry. I'm so sorry."

Blaire sighed, relaxing into the old fashioned sofa. The hard surface felt uncomfortable against her back, but it was nothing she wasn't used to. "The only one who has tainted our name is the Boogeyman. You were and still are an innocent victim in his monstrous game, you did nothing wrong."

"He trapped me in my own Hell." Westman added with sorrow, remembering how tragic his life was. "His torment took both a physical and mental toll on me, and because of that...I drank cyanide. Killed myself at the age of twenty seven. Now I am facing the consequences for my actions by being trapped within the walls of my former home, forever to remain alone."

Blaire exhaled, resting her head on Westman's shoulder. He seemed surprised at first, though nevertheless it brought him some comfort. Whenever Blaire was around, she brought back memories of a time where there was happiness and hope. It was then that the name Hanna Everlington came into mind, light and determination. Naturally gifted in the piano and blessed with inner and outer beauty. Rosy lips, eyes like sapphires, and hair like mahogany.

You are no longer part of this world, Hanna, for you led a content life. Though not a day has gone by where I haven't thought about you and our friends. I miss you. All of you. I keep thinking that one day we will finally be reunited, though I do not see that happening at any point in the near, distant future. My future is a dark one, and it always will be.

"It has been a long day for you, I assume?" he asked, trying to make better conversation.

"With the amount of work I had to complete, then yes, I would say it's been a long day." Blaire said, wanting so badly to fall asleep but knew that she couldn't. Curse her insomnia. "I always thought the life of a ghost would be easy, though now I see that it's not. There is just as much suffering in death as there is a life, there is no way to run or hide from it."

"No, there is not." said Westman, staring emotionlessly into the fireplace. "I tried to run away from my problems, and look at what that has caused."

There was a hint of disgust in Westman's tone, disgust he had been bearing for a long time. Not at Blaire, but at himself. "I do not want you to make the same mistake I did, Blaire. I would never wish for you to experience the same pain as I. It's far too late for me to help myself, though it is not too late for me to help you."

Blaire lifted her head, noticing how her grandfather spoke with such seriousness. "What do you mean by that?"

Westman's dead hands captured Blaire's, his thumb gently rubbing over the soft skin. Surely the woman in front of him was one of God's own angels, and not a descendant of his. "I lived and died over a century ago. Times have changed since then, and people are more understanding of the demons that sometimes plague ones mind. You are lucky to receive such great support, I however was not. The voices, the hallucinations...they made my blackened blood run cold, colder than ever before. Had I not succeeded in presenting a sane facade, then insanity would have claimed me."