The Ledger of Declan Whitaker

Steak drops onto the floor next to Thickerwood's bone. " Eat it. Off the floor. You're used to it." Twenty family members laugh. Declan looks down at the steak in his hands shaking. "Aunt Celeste please. I didn't do anything!" "You're in my fathers house. Eat it." She pushes the plate towards him with her shoe. "You're in the wrong one." Marcus takes out his phone. " Smile Declan. I'll text the whole family." Declan looks down. A chair screeches across the floor. Isabelle Hart yanks him up by the lapels. " Sit." " He'll have to learn his place." Celeste says. Isabelle throws the plate against the wall, causing it to smash. Silence fills the room. "He's my husband. If you touch him again you won't be leaving this house tonight." " I can't... you can't kick me out your grandpa... " My grandpa isn't here. I am." Isabelle says softly. She sits down and grabs his sleeve. He tries to pull away but she grips harder. She holds onto him throughout the meal while cutting her food with one hand. After the meal Don grabs his bag of food. Green step... He walks behind him and pushes Declan into the wall with one hand. "It's a good time to have fun with her. One year and then the contract is up and you have to go to the street." Marcus leans his arm across his neck. " I know." Declan wheezes. " I know about your mothers hospital bill. 400,000. The bank gave you a week. If you drop her off tonight I'll pay for everything. No one needs to know." Marcus lets go and hits him across the jaw. Declan rubs his neck. He doesn't answer. This was worse than answering yes. "Declan!" Isabelle jumps down the stairs two at a time. Marcus pauses. " We were just talking cousin." "Go." She waves him down the hallway. He leaves whistling. Isabelle turns his head so the light is shining on him. She notices a red mark on his neck. " What did he want?" " Nothing." " Lie." "He wants me to leave. I thought about it. Just for a second. I'm scared of your family. I can't stand your family." Isabelle holds his face in her hands. Declan crawls onto the floor with his legs straight. Isabelle quickly crawls onto the bed and puts her shoulder against his. "Sleep on the bed. I'll sleep on the sofa. Make sure the door is open." "Why?" "So I can hear you breathing. It's so quiet without you." She spins around. He watches her walk to the sofa. She looks back twice like she might disappear. He's stood in the bathroom at midnight. No eye contact. He grips the sink with his shaky hand. Seven days. 400,000. Marcus's words echo in his head. He pulls out a shard of his dinner plate. He had picked it up absentmindedly. It digs into his palm. One drop of blood falls onto the tiles and turns gold. He opens a light book. TIME OF ACCOUNTS Debt: Celeste Hart. 1 Insult. Must I be more defenceless? He walks backwards. " What... what is this?" Debt: Marcus Hart. 1 Threat. Collect? He pants. His eyes blink. It's still there. If I say yes will it start? Bid price will be collected. Collect? He pictures the bank. A week. His mothers name on the cheque. "Yeah." His phone beeps on the counter. The Ledger glows. "Good evening Mr Whitaker. This is Grant National Bank. Your balance is zero. Fully paid. However we don't have a name for the sender." Declan collapses onto the floor laughing. Crying with laughter. His mothers bill was in the corner. He was free! A new line appears in the Ledger. (In red). 39. Debt to'Declan® Whitaker fromB2 Isabelle! Hart. Lie. Collect? He stops laughing. Izzy had lied. To what? Her hand on his sleeve. Her voice saying she needed to hear him breathe. All her kind words had a different meaning. The door handle turns. He had made sure it was locked. Isabelle walks through her door wearing her night dress. She looks at his phone then his wet face. " I heard your voice at the bank." She walks in and shuts the door. "$400,000 couldn't be cracked overnight. Who paid?" " I'm not sure." "Declan." She grips his wrist tightly. " No more lying. Where did the money come from?" He looks at her hand on his arm. Then down at the red line glowing behind her shoulder. "Your turn. Lie." He says coolly. Her face pales and she lets go of his wrist. A floorboard squeaks in the hallway. Someone is in his room. Professional essay writing service. Custom essays, term paper s and research papers. Top quality writing service online.