His Punishment for Loving me

"There's Nothing Wrong with me!"

Have you ever had to say that to someone before? If so, keep reading my story!

Everyone knows that the human brain is an outstanding organ! But what we may not know, unfortunately, is that our brain can become a runaway train without you even realizing it. At some point in my life, I found myself asking these questions. How do you know when you've crossed the line from sanity to insanity? How can you tell when you are out of touch with reality?

I'm about to reveal the answers to these questions in my quest for acceptance, revenge, and love. So I invite you to take this train ride, a tour of my beautiful mind but not so-beautiful life, as they say at the train station. All aboard! I can't wait to tell you about it! But, of course, I'll leave out the mundane things and share only the juicy stuff with you.

You see, early on in my life, so many things were happening to me that I knew I didn't deserve. But as I got older, I guess I exploded. I just did things on the fly. It all happened so spontaneously. I never thought of my actions as me taking revenge on anybody. That's probably because I felt guilty about it afterward. But truth be told, that's what it was, revenge. It left such a bad taste in my mouth, and I don't think I know anyone who likes a bitter aftertaste. I know I don't. So, after a few explosive and unsavory acts of revenge, I began to recognize I needed to acquire some skills.

I don't want you to think that everything I'm about to share with you, about me and revenge, was of my own originality. No, I had assistance from a very seasoned, intelligent, and poised woman. My aunt Tiffany, you'll hear more about this fantastic lady later.

But she helped me think about some well-thought-out choices, decisions, and revenge plots. Ahh, these took me on an exciting journey. I called, in the beginning, providing punishment with pleasure.

I learned that revenge doesn't always have to be evil and bitter. Instead, it can be sweet, titillating, and tantalizing, leaving the palate pleasantly satisfied and sometimes wanting more. So, what can take the bitterness out of revenge and make it sweet?

Knowledge is indeed power! Knowing your subject is critical. Then you must acquire the skills to make your subject want or desire something or someone unobtainable. Once you have this power, you need to know the right amount of pain to inflict. After having this information, you get to sit back and experience pleasure watching them grovel, plead and beg.

But heads up! Don't get caught up in the moment of this pleasure.

There's a warning, a lesson I had to learn the hard way. Whenever attempting to take sweet revenge on your adversary, always be careful to keep your mind and heart alert to the mission. There is a fine line between love and hate: agony and ecstasy. And the lines can become easily blurred if you're not very careful.

So, ladies, in particular, pay close attention to my journey. Once I put my sweet revenge mission into action, there will be three provoking questions will be considered. Questions that I did not have the answer to at that time. First, when did I hop on this train of sweet revenge? Second, will I be able to get off this fascinating train? Thirdly, did I cross the fine but dangerous line between love and hate, unknowingly transferring onto a freight train of madness?

But before I get you all invested, let me state before you even ask. "There is nothing wrong with me." And the only way you will find out is to read this book until the end.

Now that I've cleared that up in your mind, let me introduce myself. My name is Taylor King. I'm a very relatable young lady, and I know you will connect with my story on some level, and if you can't relate to me at all, it's okay. You will still enjoy every drop! And those who click with me on every level. Then like me, you will soon learn that there's nothing wrong with you either.

In my story, I will introduce you to the three men in my life and their effect on me boarding this symbolic train that appears so natural. You see, this train analogy is quite similar to the human brain. But, like a train with many parts and compartments, our amazing brain is also composed of many factors. And compartmentalizing is a skill I had to learn and perfect.

So, where do I start? Yes, Donald King, the man that was supposed to provide and protect me. The one person I expected to love me unconditionally. But what I received from him was far from protection and love. Instead, he made me question things I assumed were natural, like blood. Is it thicker than water? Hmm, we shall see, at least in my case.

Then there was the other male Eden that came into my life. Almost like a superhero! He was tall, good-looking, wealthy, and very much spoken for at the time of our meeting.

Of course, his already committed status friend-zoned me immediately. But he was there and cared for me when I had no one else. For sure, I thought he was sent from heaven or something. He gave me a listening ear, that broad shoulder to cry on when I needed it.

Then, sometime later in my life, before my friend Eden ruined our friendship. Yes, he ended up disappointing me greatly at some point too. But before he did that, he introduced me to one of the most gorgeous men I had ever seen.

Eden's handsome friend's name was Samson Knight. How can I describe this guy? He was charismatic, instinctively keen on females. I found myself instantly attracted to him. But soon after meeting him, I learned what I thought was his true nature. I happened to overhear his cold, harsh words. Admittedly, I was already on the edge, a fragile and broken soul. But hearing his words that night pushed me over the edge, to the threshold of becoming dangerous.

Before I knew it, I had boarded the train of sweet revenge and was on my way to well-thought plots and schemes. I had made a sound decision to make these three men pay! Not for only what they had done to me. But what they had been doing to women in general. My beautiful mother is a prime example. Bless her heart. She died way too early from a broken heart. The Doctor's said she died from natural causes, but there's nothing natural about having your heart ripped in two! No, she died because of one of the three men mentioned earlier.

That man motivated me, along with my other two enemies. I was determined to stop their careless and heartless behavior toward females so no other woman could end up like my mother.

But it was right around the time I was in the process of my mission of punishing all three of these men. One of my sworn adversaries brought me back to reality. I'll let you figure out which one of the men it could have been. He gave me something I had never expected or experienced.

But was it too late for any of them to redeem themselves? Or had my runaway train no longer had any brakes?

~~~~~~ One Night I won't forget.

So here I was at one of the most excellent restaurants in the city. I'm sitting here looking into the dark dreamy eyes of Samson Knight. He had taken me out to have a divine candlelight dinner. I'm sitting here cozy next to him with my fingers entwined with his. We'd drawn a crowd of stares on the dance floor later that evening. While we were grooving together, all pressed up tight against each other. Samson's sexy voice filled the air with laughter. He wrapped me in his arms, fitting my hips into his, matching his tempo to mine.

Samson Knight was not a man I'd ever thought I would stand a chance with or even be attracted to. Indeed, I didn't think we would have anything in common, but to my surprise, we connected on many levels. We liked the same music and loved dance, art, books, and traveling. He certainly has changed my impression of him. Before this, I viewed Samson as having an air, a heartless man because of who he was and his status in life. But when he opened up to me, I found out he hadn't grown up privileged or felt that way.

Later that evening, he dropped me off at my home and walked me to my door like a gentleman. We shared what seemed like a never-ending kiss, with him whispering in my ear.

"You are so beautiful."

I don't think we've ever experienced a kiss or a moment quite like that. That kiss told me everything, and I could tell from it that it was only a matter of time before we entered into an even more committed relationship.

Now I'm standing in my bedroom, floating on cloud nine as I prepare for bed. After washing my face, I looked in the mirror and felt this heavy weight of immense guilt wash over me. I tried to ignore this unwarranted feeling as I climbed into bed. It was almost midnight, and for some strange reason, I couldn't sleep. I felt agitated and found myself tossing and turning. I have to call Samson. It's not in my nature to do this or be this way. I can't keep living with this guilt.

Samson immediately responded to my phone call. I told him, "I need to see you. Can you come over? I'll leave the door unlocked for you. Just come in."

Samson told me he would be at my place in thirty minutes. It didn't leave me with much time to go over in my head what or how I would do this, but I figured it was best to be honest and as raw with him as possible.

When he entered, I could hear his footsteps anxiously pacing back and forth across my living room floor. I know he was wondering what I wanted to share with him. He must be going insane trying to figure out what was so urgent that it couldn't wait or be shared with him over the phone. I wished it was that simple, but it was something I thought he should see with his own eyes. It was of necessity that I do this tonight, or I might never be able to do it.

I've struggled with this for some time, and I know I must be brave and do the right thing for him because now I know he doesn't deserve a girl like me.

It was almost 1 in the morning. I knew Samson was waiting for me, and I had to face him.

The time has come. I can no longer keep putting it off. Oh my God! What will happen when I do?

I opened the door. Samson turned to face me, flashing a smile before I could fully enter the room. But then his brow furrowed at me. He stood there stunned and in shock! Our eyes met for only a fraction of a second. Then, I witnessed how his handsome face transformed from a smile into a frightful frown. Samson stepped back as if he barely recognized me.

"Are you going to stand there staring at me, Samson?"

"Who are you?" He asks, peering at me as if he didn't know me.

"Samson. Please, please, don't look at me like that. You are making me worried." Not only was he looking at me confused but painfully strange. I could see his fear of me.

"I'm Taylor."

"Taylor? No way, you can't be Taylor. You look nothing like her. Where is my girlfriend? Who are you? Some fake imposter?" Samson stated while staring at the texture of my hair, blemished skin, my small dark brown eyes, and much thinner lips.

"Samson, this is the real me! You're girlfriend, Taylor King!"

His expression was no longer questioning. Instead, it had turned to pure disgust.

"I'm going to ask you again. Who are you?"

I began tearing up, fighting back my emotions at his reaction to me as I started walking toward him. It was my natural inclination to want to comfort him, seeing the pain and confusion in his eyes. But instead, he stepped back with each step I took, not wanting me to come closer.

He stated. "Was anything real about you?"

"Yes. My feelings for you are genuine. You said you would love me no matter what."

I attempted to put my arms over his broad shoulders and hug him. But Samson pushed me away from him, stating in an angry tone.

"Stay away from me! I can't be with someone who looks like you! You tricked and deceived me! I can't believe I fell for a complete fraud!"

Samson turned, walking to the front door, but before he could open it. I dropped to my knees in front of him, sobbing and begging him not to leave.

"Don't go, Samson. I love you, and I thought you loved me! Please, don't go!"

He refused to look at me. Finally, he opened the door and said, "You look disgusting! I can't be with someone who looks like you! It's over."

Samson walked out on me, slamming the door shut. I hadn't spoken to the man I loved in almost a week since that night I'd revealed my actual appearance without all the hair extensions, false lashes, and no makeup. He never returned any of my calls and didn't text me back.

After dating for almost six months, I thought he truly loved me. We had seen each other nearly every day. But, of course, he never saw me without my face enhancers, eye lifts, lip-plumping products, and makeup. I even went to sleep with it on my face. But, after Samson left my apartment in such a hurry, as if he had seen a monster, nothing was the same. Everything had changed.

I kept telling myself it couldn't be over, so I sent him another message. "Why are you avoiding talking to me? What have I done wrong? How have I hurt you? Do you want me to apologize for how I look? Please let's talk about it."

At that moment, he called me back. I answered the call hoping he was ready to talk and reunite our relationship.

"Hello," I said, but there was dead silence. So, then I said, "Samson, are you there?"

"Yes, I told you we have nothing to talk about, so don't call me anymore. I have to go."

"Wait! Please don't hang up! Listen to me. I only wanted you to see me for who I am. I didn't want to deceive you anymore."

He took a long pause. "Stop calling me! We don't have anything to talk about anymore. You are a liar and a fraud! You're scary in every way! So, could you stop calling me? Besides, I'm seeing someone else."

And just like that, I heard the phone go click. Samson Knight was gone.

I was barely able to breathe as my eyes opened. The nightgown I wore was ringing wet from sweat. I glanced around the room.

"Oh my God, that was an awful dream."

I quickly leave the bed and run to the mirror to check my face. I let out a sigh of relief. I stood in the mirror as mixed emotions overcame me: anger and fear. I can't let silly dreams make me weak! Besides, the mission doesn't start here. Trust me. You want to hear it from the beginning.

So, are you ready to go? Now it's time to experience a train ride you won't forget!

~~~~~~~ The Telephone call

"Aunt Tiffany, are you sure this information is correct and true?"

"I'm sorry, darling, but it's all true. My dear sister loved you with all her heart. She only wanted the best for her baby girl."

My tears could not stop as I listened to what she had to share with me. Aunt Tiffany was my mother's only sister. She hadn't been a part of my life very long. We had been secretly communicating and building a family bond for months. The way I discovered I even had an auntie should have opened my eyes then.

My father and stepmother did all they could to ensure we never met or even talked to one another. But I grew to trust my aunt. It was the only way to learn about my mother. She was the closes person to my birth mother. So, I listened to the information. It wasn't easy for her to share this with me today. I knew it was all true because I had lived most of the facts, she stated, all my life. But the validation made the pain so tremendous that I had to stop her.

"Auntie, I got to hang up, I'm so sorry, but I can't talk any longer. I can't breathe right now."

"Oh, my dear! Sweetheart, take deep breaths! It's going to be alright. I'll let you go, and I'll call and check up on you later."

I took deep breaths of air into my constricted lungs. I was shaking as I hung up the phone.

"I'm so naive."

My breathing became erratic again. It would painfully stop all jagged in my throat. Once again, I had to take deep breaths. It felt as if something was taking over me. Something I wasn't familiar with at all! I moved away from my desk, pacing the floor, trying to calm my breathing. Oh my God! I can't believe it! I don't want to consider it."

My eyes filled with tears at hearing the whole truth about my father. How could he lie to my mother on her deathbed? My steps quicken across the bedroom floor, trying to control my emotions as I thought about my mother's last few hours and what she had to do before she died. That hospital scene that my aunt described to me played in my head like a DVD movie on repeat.

I vividly could see her, as if I was a fly on the wall, in her hospital room. My poor mother lay in that hospital bed, asking and pleading with my father as he tried to leave. But my mother held onto his wrist, refusing to let him go. It must have been painful for my mom, knowing my father never loved her and that he had been cheating with her best friend for most of their marriage.

And despite her pain and suffering, my mother put me first. She made sure to remind my father that I was his one and only child. How hard it must have been to plead with a man who didn't seem to care, knowing she needed him to carry out her last dying wish.

I imagined the tears that rolled down my mother's precious asking him of all people to carry out her last dying wish. My mom begged my dad to please give me a good life. I know she hated having to trust a man who had proven untrustworthy. But she had no choice since now my father had sole custody of me. It forced her to reveal to him the secret accounts she had set aside on my behalf. Oh, I can only imagine how that look of greed entered my father's eyes as my mother's words finally caught his attention, as he paused and began to listen intently.

My mother told him, "Donald, I have one dying wish, and that wish is that when Taylor becomes eighteen, please promise me you will turn over the second account to her. I don't want Taylor to rely on you for the rest of her life. I certainly don't want her to be forced to marry some man for the wrong reasons. I want her to be able to take care of herself, and I want my child to marry for love and not money, as you did."

The awful part of all this is that my mother repeatedly begged my father to promise that he would give me that money! It was a gift to me from my mother!

But now I'm discovering none of that happened! On the contrary, my father didn't give me a good life! To learn how much my mother loved me and how strong she was during her weakest hour. Where did her strength come from, I wondered? But she tried to look out for my future. Tears welled up in my eyes once again. I feel devastated at how she fought, trying to look out for my well-being, having to subject herself to-begging and pleading with my father to promise to fulfill her wishes regarding me.

"Oh my God!" I screamed aloud.

His promise to my mother was a BIG LIE! He only said he promised, so she could release her grip on his arm and die! I got to make my father and Sandra pay for what they have done to my mother and me."

Yes, after that phone call, the thought of revenge entered my mind and heart.

At that moment, I looked across the room at my father's picture on my desk. I could feel the anger welling up inside me. I felt a rage unlike any other that I couldn't contain. It was a hot rage boiling within me. First, I rushed over to my desk, picked up my father's picture, and smashed it on the floor! Then, I began screaming at the top of my lungs and stomping on his face as the glass broke beneath my feet.

My stepmother came bursting into my room, yelling at me. "What are you doing?! Have you gone crazy?!"

I turned and looked at her with venom in my eyes. I don't know what got into me, but I ran, charging toward Sandra like a raging bull. I was on her in two seconds flat! I snatched her by her hair-trying to pull out every strand connected to her scalp. Sandra released a piercing scream! I yelled too, in my anger, yanking her by the head, mopping the floor with her! I behaved like a mad woman.

Shouting, "I hate you! I hate you!"

She cried out, yelling for my father, who was home that evening. "Oh my god, Donald! Donald, Donald, help me! Help me!!!"

My father came running into my room. He stopped dead in his tracks, stunned for a second. I guess he was shocked at what he saw happening to his wife. I was in such a rage that I couldn't stop myself until my father did something to me that shocked me, even I couldn't believe it!

But he shocked me with the force he used to pull me away from my stepmother. I was so angry that I continued to kick and swing at her with a fist full of her hair. Then, before I knew it, my father took and slung me across the room! Thank God I landed on my bed. He slung me with such force you would have thought I was some stranger! But that told me everything I needed to know. That blood to him doesn't mean a thing!

"What has gotten into you?" My father yelled out, yet in that same breath, he tenderly turned to my stepmother, calmly and lovingly asking.

"Sandra, honey, are you okay?"

He knelt, showing all this love and compassion, assisting Sandra off the floor. Here I was thrown to the other side of the room. I could have a broken neck about to die. And neither of them would have cared. I couldn't believe my eyes nor the pain that struck me in my heart at that moment as I watched these two people.

Then he turned and looked at me. Oh, not to see if I was okay or anything. No, my father gave me a look I had never seen from him! It was so vicious and full of hate. His lips were quivering and balled up, as well as his fist as if he might strike me! Oh, that may fury come up in me! With my blazing anger and hurt, I egged him on.

"Hit me! You know you want to hit me! Could you do it and get it over with already? You don't love me anyway!" I yelled at him.

He walked back and forth, visibly steaming, but so was I. Finally, he stopped and pointed a stiff finger at my face.

"I don't know what's wrong with you! But don't ever make the mistake of putting your hands on my wife again! How could you do something like this to your mother who raised you from a baby!"

"She's not my mother! Catherine is my mother! Do you remember her father!" I asked, shouting at him.

His brows furrowed with narrow slits in his eyes. He looked at Sandra and then back at me. As if I wasn't supposed to say or know my mother's name. No one in this house ever mentioned her name, and Sandra never allowed me to talk about my mother ever. In their eyes, she was dead and gone, buried in their forgotten past, until I resurrected her name today.

"You know exactly why I'm like this. Don't pretend that the two of you don't know!"

"See! See! I told you she's crazy! You're crazy! Donald, now you see it for yourself! I told you she was disrespecting me all this time!"

"You are a liar! I can't stand the ground you walk on! You killed my mother!" I hop up off of my bed, trying to attack her again. But my father stood in front of Sandra, protecting her from me.

"Am I not the one who is your flesh and blood?! I yelled at him.

"Be quiet! You are disrespectful! And if you ever do this again, I will throw you out of my house faster than you could blink!"

He took Sandra's hand, stormed out of my room, and slammed the door.

I was still filled with so much rage. Now that I know my stepmother was supposed to be my mother's best friend and how she betrayed my mother. And stole my mother's life, and all this time, how she's been controlling my life! The mere thought of it made me even angrier! And since I couldn't bring any further bodily harm to her.

I begin shouting out loud. "I hate you, Sandra! Sandra, you are going to pay for all your dirt!" I couldn't stop yelling. It was like a floodgate of emotions that released years of pinned-up anger. I felt unhinged and uncaged inside. And now, I was free for the first time in my life. So I went on a rampage in my room, shouting.

"No, no, no! You won't get away with this evil!"

I wailed, breaking and smashing the crystal glass clock that was a gift from my father he gave me at six years old. It was the first gift and the last gift he ever gave me. I once cherished that clock as I hummed it across the room! In anger, I strip the sheets away from my bed and cast the bedcovers to the floor. I flung all the pillows in every direction!

I sobbed, furiously beating the bare mattress with all my strength, wishing it was Sandra's and my father's faces. Finally, exhausted, I fell flat onto the bed, pressing my hot face against the cool mattress. I didn't want to feel any more pain. I cried silently, with uncontrollable sobs that continued to shake my body. Maybe twenty minutes had passed. I don't know, but I finally felt drained of all my tears, or so I thought.

I lay in bed staring out my window, looking at the sky. I began thinking about how everything was becoming crystal clear and why I didn't know much about my mother or my mother's sister Tiffany.

My father had done all he could to keep me away from my auntie. Finally, and thank God, I decided to disobey the rule not to answer my father's private line in his office, but that's when I discovered my mother had a sister. My aunt Tiffany began revealing things I never knew or wanted to believe. But soon, our calls had to be curtailed when I discovered my stepmother Sandra was snooping and monitoring my phone calls. She began reporting to my father how long I was on the phone and what days. Without my knowledge, my dad would change my phone plan from unlimited minutes to limited with limited text.

One time I was talking to my aunt on the phone, and the call suddenly ended. Just as my aunt and I had suspected my father had found out, I was communicating with her. And when I decided to approach my dad, I asked him.

"Dad, did you change my cell phone plan?"

"Yes, your mother told me that you were on the phone flirting with some boy for hours. I expect better from you. I don't work hard to pay these bills around here so my daughter can end up a slut."

"That's not true! I wasn't on the phone talking to a boy!"

"It doesn't matter. You now have limited minutes and text."

But I was determined to keep in touch with my auntie, even by email. I cherished those emails and learned much about my natural mother, father, and Sandra. All this time, my father had me under the impression his family was wealthy and that my mother came from a poor, deprived background. But it was my father who came from nothing, and that's why he married my mother in the first place, hoping to get control of my mother's inheritance.

Learning all this was hard initially, and I didn't want to believe it. I looked at my father as the man supposed to love me unconditionally. After all, I am his only daughter and his flesh and blood. But now that it's all been confirmed, my father was depriving me of what is rightfully mine. He provided the bare minimum for me. Mostly, he left me physically, emotionally, and on the edge of being mentally broken. How could I trust any man when my flesh and blood, the one man in my life, has shown me he doesn't care or love me?

I kept having flashes of every mistreatment and lie. Then, finally, my mind unleashes it all on this dreadful day. I couldn't stop recalling all the awful things that happened to me because my father, Donald King, didn't love me enough to protect me, but somehow, I survived.

Now I realize how I survived and coped with the pain and hurt. It was because I had allowed the trust of a second male to enter my life and possibly my heart. But, I needed to know, are all men like my father? I certainly hope not, but I'm about to find out.