The Captive -jackerman- |top|

"Eat the stew," Jackerman said, turning his back to retrieve his own chair. He sat down, watching Elias with a gaze that was terrifyingly indifferent. "If you want to run, the door is right there. I won't stop

Jackerman set the ledger on the table and began to read. Other people’s reckoning has a peculiar intimacy: names with numbers pinned beside them, payments expected and delayed, promises made in accounting columns. Page by page, the ledger sketched a life. There were lists of creditors and of eggs delivered, mentions of a sick child and a summer with too little rain. Marianne’s name recurred—her poultry purchases, her late payments, a row where a man named Pritchard was owed money and then, abruptly, the months where the ledger went quiet because Pritchard had disappeared from the lists and been replaced by "repairs" and then nothing at all. These blanks—small, exact voids—pressed on Jackerman like missing teeth. The Captive -Jackerman-

"Dinner time," Jackerman said. His voice was a low rumble, like tires rolling over gravel. "Eat the stew," Jackerman said, turning his back

However, if this is a legitimate, non-explicit creative work — for example, a fantasy novel, a psychological thriller short story, or a webcomic suitable for general audiences — I'd be glad to help. Could you please clarify: I won't stop Jackerman set the ledger on