Page 39 of When Hearts Collide

She turns back to me, her voice stronger and louder. “We’re here to argue pricing the drug at such a high cost is immoral and unethical. Under Kantianism, as members of society, we should focus on Gentech’s underlying duty to patients. They have a moral obligation to treat these patients ethically, which includes allowing them fair access to the drug. If the price is too expensive, Gentech is condemning these patients to death.”

I bite back a smile. I expect this argument from her. It’s one I’ve heard from many students before, young people with an interminable amount of hope with little to no experience with the ugliness of the real world, where sustaining on hope by itself will starve you.

“In addition, based on the Rights Theory, human beings have the fundamental right of access to health care. Excessively high prices for this drug will violate this essential right. And after all, as a pharmaceutical company, what is Gentech’s mission statement? According to their website, it’s ‘To better mankind by innovating with integrity, and to deliver medical treatments that will help patients prevail over diseases and improve patient outcomes.’ How can they achieve that if they aren’t even allowing lifesaving medicine to land in the hands of those who need it the most?”

Millie pauses, excitement pouring out of her in spades, her eyes brimming with passionate fervor.

The heat simmering in my veins burns through me and I begin my rebuttal. “Pharmaceutical research is expensive and takes years to complete. Thousands of man hours, hundreds of failed projects, many revisions, before a viable product can be put out. You say a pharmaceutical company’s purpose is to help ease the suffering of the common man from diseases. How can they do this without recouping their costs?”

She furrows her brows, her mouth parting to respond, but I hold up my hand. “You talk of Kantianism’s focus on duty and the Rights Theory’s focus on fundamental patient rights. What about the duties and rights of Gentech to themselves and their employees and shareholders? Should they license their patent for cheap to other companies so the price of the drug will drop, knowing that’ll be at a significant cost to them, one that might threaten the company’s wellbeing and viability, and endanger the livelihood of the thousands of employees working for them? Don’t they have a right to their intellectual property?”

“But those are only monetary and capitalistic concerns,” she retorts, her eyes flashing in anger. “How can that measure against the value of human life? How are those two things even remotely comparable?”

God, the fire in her eyes is fucking intoxicating. I want to bathe in it and control it. I want to let it wash over me, curing me of my darkness.

There’s a hush in the classroom now, everyone avidly watching the debate.

No, they are watching her.

This luminous nymph clearly out of her depths on dry land, yet still attempting to wield the currents of water around her, brandishing her only weapon the best she can.

Heated blood travels to my cock, the discomfort quickly becoming clear by the bulge in my pants, but I find myself not caring. Instead, I step closer, entranced by her.

Fuck, I should step away. Stay back. But like a Siren, she lures me closer with her song.

But I’ll only hurt her in the end. My abyss will snuff out her flames. My prison will clip her wings. My darkness will corrupt her light.

“You know, pharmaceutical companies are typically working on multiple research projects at the same time. Including medicines to cure cancer.” I can’t stop the poison from seeping out of my voice—to punish her, to punish me for this insanity brewing between us.

You’re an asshole, Ryland. Fuck, you’re a grade A prick.

She flinches, no doubt thinking about her mom.

I continue, “If we went with your theory of making the medicine readily accessible to everyone at a cost to Gentech, then they won’t have the funds to continue their research for their cancer drug and tens of other drugs for other human diseases.”

I take a few more steps forward, but she refuses to cower before me even when I loom above her. Instead, her eyes are chilly swirls of treacherous seas, threatening to level me with her glare.

Pressing further, my voice hard and low, I ask, “What about utilitarianism? Don’t we want to focus on the greater good? Are we saying we’ll forsake the lives of millions with other life-threatening conditions such as cancer or lung disease, diabetes, or other plight, just so folks with kidney disease can all get the aid they need at a cheap cost?”

Her lips curl, and a mist appears in her eyes. Millie fists her hands by her sides. Somehow, I don’t think these are tears of sadness.

She’s furious.

The anger leaching off her body is the most addictive drug. Fucking intoxicating. I can’t get enough.

I lean forward, the last vestiges of logic pulling me back just enough, so we maintain the barest respectable distance between us. “Do those other patients’ lives not matter to you? What about their families? Or maybe a little girl missing her mom?”

She flinches again, her mouth parting in shock.

I’m such a fucking bastard. I want to bash my head against the wall, but like a sadist, I continue.

I rasp, my voice heavy and thick. Almost guttural. “How can we be so selfish and only think about the individual or small groups of people and not for the greater good, the rest of the population?”

We can’t be so selfish. I can’t be so selfish.

She delivers a blistering blow, which in my twisted mind, seems more like the pleasurable pain of a lover’s nails digging into your back during a rough night of fucking.

“You bastard,” she seethes, the insult a quiet scathing whisper only I can hear.

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