TEACH ME NOT 2 HATE LOVE

78

👧Tajea POV 👧

From the day this cruel man hit me with that beer bottle in the head for no reason, any love that I had left for him was eradicated. Destroyed. Vanished in that single blow. This wretched man has lost all his right to be my father. And yet here he is barking out orders, demanding my obedience as if I'm some slave. He's using the father card against me. Is he for real?

A laugh escaped my lips, though anger was boiling me inside out. I mean, this is so funny. No, hilarious. OK. It's not.

My two brothers signaled to me to stay calm. But the world must know by now that I hold nothing down. In every hostile conversation or battle, I must have the last say. It is a must that I deal the last blow. Or I won't feel good within myself.

"Father?" I snorted, disgusted. "Man, please get out of my atmosphere and stop upsetting my spirit more than it already is."

"You little—" My father made after me, but Theo just in the nick of time stopped him. (Why did he?) He tried to calm the man down. However, Tajrick was just as stubborn as I am. An ignorant old fool. He was struggling to get free. To do whatever his messed-up brain was telling him to do to me right now. But if he knows what's good for him, he'll back down and leave me be.

However, that won't happen. As I said, Tajrick is very stubborn. He's a very arrogant man who demands respect, especially from women. And I just insulted and hurt that pride. I disrespected him in front of his family and friends. He won't allow this. I must be punished, or so he must be thinking.

I sprung up from my seat, holding a champagne bottle, ready to fight with my father. No. Tajrick. And I know it's not a good look. A parent and a child are at each other's necks, seeming to want to kill each other. It's just so sad and wrong. Still, I'm not going to standby and let anyone (family or not) hurt me physically or emotionally.

"Taj, please. This is not the place for this," my mom pleaded. And from a logical point of view, she was right. However, the mood I am in right now makes it impossible for me to be reasoned with. And I didn't care about the bystanders. My dad side of the family, to be exact. Or how disgusted they were by my outburst.

"Wow! Even now, you are choosing him over me." I scoffed at my mother. When really I was crying in my heart. "Again, you choose to abandon me."

"No. Sweetheart. I—" my mother barely managed to utter. Guilt stamped on her face. Her eyes.

Yes, she should feel just as bad as I am feeling right now. And yet her suffering is not the least bit satisfying to me at all. It's more torturous for me to see her in pain and heartbroken. And to make it worse, I am to blame for it.

Why am I doing this? This woman here is my mother. I don't wish her any harm or for her to be unhappy. I don't wish to be this mad at her or quarrel with her. Hate her.

Nor do I want to seem ungrateful or disrespectful. After all, she did her best to take care of me. All her children, as a matter of fact. She provided food and shelter for us. Protect us. She loved us with her whole heart all throughout our childhood. And maybe up until now. (Theo is her favorite child, though.)

But most importantly, she gave life to us. And for that alone, neither my brothers nor I can ever repay her. However, her drastic actions and the hurtful words she said to me that day are unforgivable. It's hard to let that pain go.

"Don't mom!" I interrupted, almost breaking down in tears. But I tried to stay strong. "Your sweetheart died when you disowned and abandoned her."

"Oh, would you stop this nonsense already?" Theo shouted at me while holding dad in place. He seemed really troubled by the hurt I'm causing our mother. To myself.

"Then next time, don't come breaking into my home and inviting this hood rat to such an uptight event!" I snapped back. I was about to leave, but the remarks that my dad's second-eldest sister, Dolores Donovan St. Richards, made stopped me in my tracks.

"Humph, such an insolent girl." Dolores snorted contemptuously. My two other aunts and four uncles (her sisters and brothers), along with all their children, agreed and found her remarks against me amusing. "From her barbaric display just now and her hood rat behavior, as she termed it, one can tell she wasn't home-trained properly. The girl has no respect whatsoever for her own father, who made it possible for her to be here today. Nor does she respect her older brother. I mean, this is a wedding, not the damn circus. So why is this brat carrying on like a circus animal? Humph, no doubt she got all those unlady-like traits from her mother."

Did she just openly diss my mother and me in front of family and friends? Call me a circus monkey. I think she did. Unlady like. Well, I don't feel offended by that.

Being a lady, by her definition, is like being in a small box. Certain things are expected of a so-called lady. Rules you have to follow, even if they make no sense, like being loyal to an unworthy, rude man, for example. You get walked over and controlled by them. To sum it all up, there is nothing good about being their definition of a lady.

Back to the real issue here: This b*tch just insulted and humiliated my mother. And my name isn't Tajea Anordia Donovan if I don't repay her in full.

"You know, you people are unbelievable." I addressed Dolores and the rest of the nest of serpents entertaining her garbage. Oh, that's another name for all my father's relatives. People. Please keep up. "Despite hating my mother and her children and calling us an embarrassment—the shame of the Donovan family—you all came out in fancy dresses and all. Pretending to be here to celebrate my brother's happiness. To wish him well. When really you are here to criticize and mock us. You are worse than vultures lying in wait for dead meat. Maggots that prey on others to fuel your egos. An eyesore. You're like sh*t stuck to my shoe on a Monday morning."

"PAH, the nerve of this stupid girl," Another one of my aunts, Della, tried scolding me. "Have you no home training?"

"Do you?" I back-talked her, which made her eyes widen. Why the surprised b*tch?

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Mother Toad," I said. "You. Your distasteful siblings and children have looked down on my mother for years now. Talking sh*t about her. You gave Mom hell. All because you think you are better than her. You all believe that she doesn't deserve your scumbag of a brother. Who treats her like she is his personal slave. And she let him."

Damn. The last part broke my heart.

"B*tch, since you all think you are so above us regular mortals, stop breathing the same inferior air as us. As a matter of fact, you should just leave for another world that can cope with all your BS."

"You tactless little wh*re!" Dolores lashed out.

"B*tch! Don't you dare mistake me for your daughters." I put her rude ass in her place, hood-rat style. "You know, you are so busy putting down others and their children. And for what? To cover up your daughter's dirty little deeds. Their messy lives. But everyone in the family—the dogs, cats, and even the rats—knows that your two cockroaches are top-shelves wh*res. We all know that they sleep around with countless men for money, like prostitutes.

"We also know about the many abortions you have assisted them with. And that your wealthy ex-husband has molested and impregnated your daughters while they were in their teens. You then gave away those babies to cover up his wrongdoing. Your shame."

"You are a liar! Liar!" Dolores and her two cockroaches (Aniya and Janice) kept chanting while I read out their nasty deeds. But it was all in vain.

"The truth hurts like a b*tch, doesn't it?" I throw some hot pepper sauce into their old wound that I just brutally slashed open.

"You lying piece of sh*t." The furious Dolores marched over to me like a legion of demons breaking loose from the gates of hell, where she's from. She was attempting to do something that might cost her life. Something very stupid. She raised her hands to slap me.

The poor thing must think I'm still the same kid that she used to verbally and physically abuse.

I stopped her hand, which seemed to surprise her. Then imagine the shock she must have felt when I slapped her across the face with the champagne bottle and broke it on her head. And the minute she hit the floor, I gave her head and the ground a proper introduction. More than one time.