Snow Bound

4

John waits until Whitney is seated and makes sure that she is comfortable before continuing. "Before I give you all the options available there are some facts you need or should at least know. First, we, Michael and I, believe that my father stalked you. We found your file and there are photos of you starting from about the age of four or so. Because of this we have reason to believe that my father is behind the car accident that killed your father. We know for a fact that he is the reason your mother became an alcoholic and drug addict. He wanted you and if your mother was as beautiful as you, then that would explain why he gave her drugs for sleeping with him as a bonus."

Whitney stares at John as he finishes, pretty much overwhelmed with the information she was just given.

"I know that was a lot of information to dump on you and you likely need some time to process it. Just let me know when you are ready for me to continue." John says sedately as he watches Whitney digest all that he just told her. He hates himself for making her look so lost and alone. For the first time in his life he wishes that he was able to connect with others like Michael is able to do. Then perhaps he would be able to present things to Whitney in a way that isn't overwhelming to her and she will accept the option that he wants her to take.

With how Whitney is taking things, he highly doubts that she will want to have any more to do with him or his family. Quite frankly he would be surprised if she did. After all the pain and torture she's gone through, not to mention what her family went through. Well, it would take a miracle and he has long since lost any belief in miracles. He grew up with the devil and there are no angels that want to stay with demons.

"O-okay, I think I'm ready to hear what else you have to tell me." Whitney's voice breaks into his thoughts. It is hesitant and not very strong, but it is determined in trying to figure things out.

"You will have several options, so please, listen to them all before you make a decision on just one of them, alright?" John waits silently for Whitney to give her halting nod.

"First off, I want you to know that you will be given an apartment away from us and a bank account. The money that was paid for you and the price equal to the drugs that was given to your mother. There will also be a sum deposited into that account for the pain and suffering given to you and for the death of your father. It will be sufficient for you to live off of so you will never need to work again if you don't wish to. In addition to this my brother is actually deeding the building that the penthouse is in over to you. The deed to the penthouse will be ready for you tomorrow. It wasn't able to gotten a hold of before closing time for the bank. The deed to the building will be or should be ready for you on Monday. The rents for the apartments, or rather condos will then be deposited in the account that will be set up for you tomorrow. You will be given checks to use immediately but the card will take a few days to come to you. 

"We will take you to the bank tomorrow to deal with that. We will, or at least I will be taking you shopping as well, but that will be gone over later.

"So the first option for you will be to take the apartment and move there. If you wish, once the mission is complete, you can move there and cut off all contact with us. You will be allowed a new name and identity, your high school will be finished on line and you will be allowed to go to counselling to deal with the abuse and trauma my family and this life has brought you. You will be given a background story and as long as you keep to that story you will be left alone." John watches as Whitney nods with wide eyes at the generous offer.

"My brother trusts you, Whitney, you are the only one he's ever offered to go free and not be worried about telling the authorities on us. He even took you through the secret passage between the bedrooms. He would kill anyone that found out about them before." Michael says coming into the room.