Don't Judge Me

By Sheilane Nadia

Want to know why I slept with my best friend's husband? Or why I hired a hitman for my husband and his mistress? Or why I hate my unborn child? and so many more? Read the shocking reasoning that these different (fictional) women give for their questionable actions. Will you forgive them? Or will you be quick to judge?                                                   

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sheilane Nadia
• Release date: Sep 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536567984

Book preview

I Need Your Husband

Rachel

It is late at night, and I am scantily dressed and standing on a street corner. I feel like a hooker. But no. I am much worse; because I am waiting on my best friend’s husband.

The longer I stand here, the more I try to understand what has led me to this low.

I think that my downward spiral began about a year and a half ago. I had just completed a Masters in Economics with a minor in International Management, from a prestigious and very challenging University. I felt on top of the world- like it was my oyster- like my future was as bright as the stars. At least that was what all of my lecturers and the upstanding guest speakers said during the graduation ceremony.

It’s no wonder then that I was completely devastated after coming face to face with the opposite reality.

Someone should have warned me. They should have let me know just how rugged, heart wrenching, and treacherously slow the road to success would be. Then maybe I would have been better able to handle it. Instead, my life is like the ‘Friends’ theme song. ‘See no one told me life was gonna be this wayyy. Your job’s a joke, you’re broke, your life’s DOA. Feels like you’re always stuck in second gear, when it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month, or even your yearrr.’

My first disappointment was that it took me almost a year to find employment- ten months to be exact. All of my fast pace, high-paying, high corporation dream companies coldly rejected me, without so much as a word of advice to help me better my chances in the business world. With every rejection letter, a piece of my self-esteem tore away; until I felt utterly worthless.

My mother encouraged me to apply for more attainable positions, like maybe: teaching, accounting, administration, even cashiering at a store or supermarket- just to have something to do and to gain some sort of income.  So I reluctantly put my pride aside and sent out the applications.

The first job that opened up was as an English teacher at a local high school. I cried for days. I’m too ambitious and glamorous to be a boring teacher. But what choice did I have? No one else wanted me.

Then when I found out what the salary would be, I wanted to die. It was mere pittance. Not nearly half as much to attain my dream life style of: frequent travel, bi-weekly shellac manicures, Brazilian weaves, monthly facial treatments, professional teeth whitening and of course, regular restaurant dining and other entertainment.

I would have to change my entire mindset and become basic- that is, content with the bare minimum. Content with living from pay check to pay check, like my single mother did, and her mother did before her. I had fought so hard to break the cycle, but obviously to no avail.

During my one year of teaching, I have had to deal with more hardship than I’ve ever had to deal with in all of my twenty-five years of life. From blatant disrespect and verbal abuse to death threats. Some of the students even sexually assaulted me once. I was leaning over one of their desks to check for homework, and another student decided to stick his phone under my skirt to video tape my underwear.

I only knew that such a tape of myself existed when the principle caught a group of the boys drooling over it during break time. I can’t even begin to describe how embarrassed and violated I felt. I sunk into a depression so deep that I could not leave my bed for almost a week. I didn’t want to go back out to work; because, even though the perpetrating students had been expelled, most of the students had seen the video. It had gone viral. Even the principal had seen it. They had seen an intimate part of me that I have never even shown to anyone else. How could I face them again?

But I had to face them. I had to return to work like nothing had ever happened; and teach these little shits every day. I had to give them my knowledge- even more of me. I could hear them snicker slyly as I passed by, about the color underwear I was wearing in the video. Each time I overheard them, it was like how I imagine a knife through the heart felt.

But what could I do? I couldn’t stop them from talking. I had no control over anything anymore. It seemed I had to take whatever life decided to send my way, and learn to deal with it. All of my planning and dreaming; all of the relationships I forfeited and leisure time that I sacrificed to study; and not to mention the money spent on my tuition fees; none of it helped me to steer my life down the desired path.

I had to take back control. I needed to have a part of my life that I could alter as I pleased- to ease my stress and cut away some of my pain; so that I would no longer feel like I was dying slowly, every single day.

And then it happened. One night, my best friend Amanda called. Her mother had just had a minor stroke and was rushed to the hospital. She needed me to watch her two-year old twins. Her husband, David, was working late and she couldn’t reach him. So, of course, I said yes.

I finally got the twins to bed at around eleven that night. Not long afterwards, David’s car pulled into the driveway. I grabbed my purse and went into the kitchen to greet him.

Hey Rachel. David said, sauntering through the kitchen door. He was smartly dressed in suit and tie, and