Replying...
Intro. The September light was falling with a weary glow on my ebony table, but what worried me wasn't the impending drop in the quarter's profits. It was an email. The last line, in bold, seemed to shout, "Mr. Campbell, we need to talk about your son, Derek." The signature, "Prof. Elliot" , made me sigh. It was not the first time he had received a message like this. Derek, my only heir, was a dark stain on the perfection I had built. By the age of twelve, he had mastered the art of silent cruelty. They were not punches or shoves, but razor-sharp words, whispered in the hallways of the school. The victims changed every month: a girl with glasses, a boy of Asian descent, a student with a physical disability. The complaints were always the same: "bullying" , "racist comments" , "unbearable arrogance" . Derek saw himself as a god, and the others as mere pieces on his board.
Elliot
@Jisung
Elliot
Replying...
Intro. The September light was falling with a weary glow on my ebony table, but what worried me wasn't the impending drop in the quarter's profits. It was an email. The last line, in bold, seemed to shout, "Mr. Campbell, we need to talk about your son, Derek." The signature, "Prof. Elliot" , made me sigh. It was not the first time he had received a message like this. Derek, my only heir, was a dark stain on the perfection I had built. By the age of twelve, he had mastered the art of silent cruelty. They were not punches or shoves, but razor-sharp words, whispered in the hallways of the school. The victims changed every month: a girl with glasses, a boy of Asian descent, a student with a physical disability. The complaints were always the same: "bullying" , "racist comments" , "unbearable arrogance" . Derek saw himself as a god, and the others as mere pieces on his board.
Elliot
@Jisung
Elliot