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

•Chapter Seventeen•

Warning: Strong mentions of violence

"I don't wanna wake it up, the devil in me." - Devil In Me, Halsey, 2017

Westman hid behind a wall, breathing in and out shakily. Covering his mouth with one hand to avoid screaming, he wondered how that disgusting demon had followed him.

Lacrime...

"There is no use trying to hide, Alfred. You will never get away from me whilst you are living, wasting every moment of your life committing horrible crimes against your own body."

Westman was pulled away from the wall with a rough pull of his wrist. Trying to fight back, he struggled like no tomorrow. "Take your hands off me! I am not yours to treat like dirt, you monstrous devil! I will never forgive you for what you have done to me and Jim! It is your fault that he has turned to drink! It is your fault that I am harming my body!"

"Ah, the struggling hero act." Lacrime began, breaking into a chuckle. "But you see I am not the only one who is responsible for your misfortune. You too are to blame."

"How the am I to blame!? Answer me, damn you!" Westman demanded, still resisting Lacrime.

" My, this is going to be fun. I have a game in store for you, Alfred, and you are going to play whether you want to or not. I am going to grant you the ability of feeling physical pain again, albeit it will only be until the game is over. Do you understand?"

Westman spat in Lacrime's face, wiping his lips with the back of his hand afterwards. "You can burn for all I care. Or better yet, you can leave me and my friends alone."

Lacrime clicked his fingers and soon his face was clean once more. "You vampires sure are dirty, spitting and hissing in people's faces whenever you are hunting or displeased with something. Enough of that, let the game commence. Roll up your sleeve, if you would be so kind as to do so."

"I will not do anything you say."

Lacrime let go of Westman and waved his finger in a 'tut-tut' style, smirking. "Deary me, it's no wonder that granddaughter of yours is so stubborn. You've created a bloodline of pig-headed freaks."

"Do not speak of her that way!" Westman clenched his fist angrily; he wasn't going to let the Boogeyman speak badly of Blaire. "Blaire is quite possibly the strongest woman I have ever met, with more humanity than any creature I have faced!"

"She has the strength and heart of a man. It comes as no surprise to me that she has not found herself a husband. No man could ever be attracted to a woman like her. Someone who is as independent as her, let alone ugly."

Lacrime had succeeded in pushing Westman's buttons, the anger he could see in his eyes only made things for him all the more thrilling. Laughing, he pushed the young man and held him down on the cobbles, applying slight pressure to one arm so that it would stay sturdy as he rolled up his sleeve.

"Why did you choose me and Jim, Lacrime? What have we ever done to you that makes you hate us so?"

It amused Lacrime as Westman looked up at him, questioning his motives. He couldn't really give an answer, for he didn't know what made him choose to paranormal investigators. He just felt like it, he supposed. "I'm afraid that is something I cannot say."

Lighting a cigar, Lacrime dug it deep into Westman's arm and instantly gave into his dark pleasures as he screamed out. He had remained true to his word, and had returned the gift of feeling pain for the purpose of the 'game'. With each burn, stinging tears fell down Westman's cheeks and hisses replaced mingled in with the horrific screams of torture.