Page 645 of Filthy Elites

They see me getting by on a whim and wonder how the fuck I manage to come out on top every single year.

Some think it’s because the connections my father has, but there comes a point when it becomes obvious it’s not that, and that’s when I leave them guessing and baffled.

Of course, my teachers know what I’m about, and most of them can’t stand it. That blowhard, Principal Kolyav, hates it. They all hate that I could potentially ditch an entire year’s worth of learning, turn up for the exams, and ace it better than who they consider to be their best students.

Today I’m starting my morning with homework—college homework, the only homework I care about.

It’s seven a.m., and I’ve been at it for about an hour. I’ll get ready for school in a little while, then head out.

I usually do this on weekends, but this weekend, I’m going to visit Mom’s grave. She’s buried on a little island in New Hampshire.

Seeing her grave always stirs up my sadness and grief from losing her but being away from here gives me a break.

When Mom’s family first came from Russia way back when, New Hampshire was where they settled. Since my parents didn’t have a marriage of love, she’s buried in the private family plot. That’s where I want to go when I’m gone, if I don’t have the family and the life she wished for me.

Chances are I won’t.

I usually stay in New Hampshire with my uncle when I visit, which has been at least twice a month.

When I’m there this weekend, I don’t want to think about anything. I have a feeling, however, that Billie Fairchild will be the exception.

I finish off my work and pack away my folders. As I’m clearing the desk, I see the file I made of Billie’s bastard father.

It contains all the correspondence he had with Mom. All the emails with his contracts and promises to fulfill his duties—which was to just do what he was hired to do.

Nothing else was required of him. No favors, nothing shady where he had to work magic, just his fucking job.

Those emails contained heartfelt messages from my mother in regard to her patients in the States and third world countries who were benefitting from her treatment.

They were people who would have now died or will subsequently die because everything was shut down after the money was stolen.

The bastard was hired because Mom believed his bull shit. Her methods of treatment were all still in research and clinical trials.

She came up against all sorts of backlash from the medical world. That’s why she funded the majority of the program herself.

When the money was stolen, she tried for over a month to fix the problem, but it just got worse, and she grew sicker.

Dad didn’t help her when he could have. He had the money to fix everything, but he refused because some of those people who didn’t want Mom in operation were his investors.

Everything’s so fucked up in all sorts of ways that shouldn’t be.

It’s no wonder I am the way I am. Full of hatred and vengeance.

And, I don’t think I can be blamed for wanting someone to take responsibility for my mother’s death.

In the back of my mind, though, even a devil like me knows it’s not right to expect Billie to pay.

However, my selfishness knows that’s the only way I get to have her.

My interest in her was born in hatred, but my obsession in desire.

* * *

Billie walks into my bedroom,taking those tentative steps.

She’s still afraid of me, and now that we’ve been fucking for days, it’s clearer than ever, she’s afraid of herself, too. At first, there were glimmers of worry in her eyes. She’d try to mask it. Now there’s nothing she can hide.

Especially when she looks at me.

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