My 300-pound sister swore up and down that this time she'd shed the weight, claiming she was "all in".
She roped me into her health kick, insisting on a daily diet of steamed veggies and three-mile jogs, leaving me so nutrient-deprived I blacked out.
Eventually, I toughed it out for a year, busting my butt at the gym until I finally achieved that killer hourglass figure.
She flipped her lid with jealousy,
She sneakily snapped pictures of me in the shower, printed them onto flyers, and plastered them in the men's room. Then, crying crocodile tears on the live stream, she played the victim while I was painted as the villain.
Waking up, I found myself back at the starting line of her diet declaration day.
***
"Megan, I'm serious about slimming down this time! How about you join me? You aren't getting any younger, and if you don't lose weight, who's gonna marry you?"
Olivia's taunting tone echoed beside me, and I was still feeling the world spinning.
Her greasy and sweaty face was a picture of mock concern as she gleefully loaded up on low-carb bread and new workout gear, babbling on: "From today, it's nothing but steamed greens and evening runs for us!"
"We'll keep each other honest. Cheat on the diet? That's five hundred bucks!"
She was buzzing with excitement, while I just stared in silence, dumbstruck and uncertain, grappling with this bizarre reality.
Moments ago, I was a broken mess on the street, the agony of shattered bones still fresh, yet here I was, inexplicably back in my living room.
Seeing my vacant look, Olivia's brows knit together as she launched into a tirade,
"Megan, you're not backing out, are you? Don't shoot the messenger, but let's face it—you're 26, never had a boyfriend, probably because no guy wants to date a human dumpling."
"You're becoming a spinster, and if you don't buckle down and slim down, no one will want you when you're past your prime..."
Before, such cruel words would have sparked a fiery comeback from me.
Now, I just watched her, face stoic, lips pressed tight, silently absorbing the shock of my second chance at life.
Olivia and I, twins, have always been on the heavier side, often the butt of jokes among boys.
She's had a lifelong love affair with fast food, spending her whole paycheck on greasy pork and spicy noodles. She'd constantly borrow money for more, then post-binge, vow to stop—promises made and broken.
In my previous life, she'd throw shade subtly, using my weight as a weapon to prop up her shaky self-esteem.
She dragged me into her dieting schemes, well aware of my stressful job. Pushing bland veggies and late-night runs, I grew increasingly frail, collapsing from lack of proper nutrition.
Only when I was hospitalized did she feign innocence, "I didn't realize Megan was so frail! How can you blame me? I was just trying to help!"
Meanwhile, after pretending to stick to salads, she'd gorge on secret midnight snacks, ignoring my hunger-induced dizziness.
I once believed she was merely naive; deep down, a good person. It took dying from cyberbullying to see she'd never cared at all, always viewing me as a rival, resentful of any happiness I found.
I finally snapped, investing in a personal trainer and dedicating myself to relentless gym sessions, transforming myself into the vision I'd always hoped for, no longer the "fattie".
This drove her to the edge, clawing at herself with envy, "Why are you glamming up? Trying to snag some hunks?"
In revenge, she spread those shower photos, making me the target of crude remarks, nearly breaking me as I became a public pariah.
Her live meltdowns, accusing me of fat-shaming and turning the internet against me, pushed me into a deep, dark place from which I saw no return.
"Megan, who gave you the right to outshine me? This is on you—if you hadn't sneaked off to get fit, none of this would have happened! We were both big, so why do you get to flip the script? Just die already; it'd be a relief!"
In my final moments, Olivia cursed me with venomous fury, as if she wished she could strangle me herself.
Even as I died, her laughter rang out, cruel and triumphant.
Unable to bear my transformation, her jealousy had literally driven me to my grave.
Given a second shot at life, I'm done playing nice. I'm determined to turn the tables and make her rue the day she crossed me.
2Olivia, pumped with determination, thrust a bowl of veggies into my hands and commanded with an air of arrogance, "Wash these; they're our dinner tonight!"
Spinning on her heel, she switched to a saccharine tone, cooing to her boyfriend, "Babe, I'm dead set on losing weight this time. I'll slim down to 110 pounds, and everyone will envy you for having such a knockout girlfriend!"
She played up her plight with a whiny undertone, "I just splurged on some gym wear, though, and I'm kinda strapped for cash. Can you float me some?"
His response came back as a series of muffled grunts over the phone, sounding disgustingly phlegmy, sending shivers down my spine.
Soon after, her phone chimed with the alert of a $1,000 transfer hitting her Venmo, making Olivia giggle with delight, and giving me a taunting glance.
Previously, Olivia had used heavily edited photos to juggle three boyfriends online, treating them like her personal ATMs without a shred of shame.
She always fibbed about her weight by claiming childhood hormone treatments were to blame.
At home, she treated me like a servant, commanding me endlessly, and taking my compliance for granted. Remembering how I spent years catering to her only to be repaid with betrayal fueled a fiery surge of anger through me.
With a loud "thud," I dropped the veggies onto the floor and declared, "Make your own dinner. I'm not your maid! Besides, staying single beats being like you, juggling three guys and shamelessly mooching off them!"
Olivia quickly covered her phone, her eyes blazing with fury as she spat in a hushed tone, "Megan! What nonsense are you spouting? Are you trying to get me in trouble?!"
I scoffed, dismissing her with a wave, "I'm just stating facts."
Olivia attempted to retort, but her boyfriend's irate voice from the phone cut her off, interrogating her hysterically, "You have other boyfriends?! Olivia, if you're lying to me, it's over..."
Watching her frantically try to smooth things over, I couldn't help but smirk subtly.
This time, I refused to be the fool, running around doing her bidding without gaining anything in return.
As I stepped outside, the bright sun filled me with warmth, the joy of this second chance bringing tears to my eyes.
Previously, because Olivia was my sister, I never guarded against her, giving her the chance to drive me to my demise. This time, I'm seizing control of my life and plotting my revenge.
I took a cab to the bank, withdrew all my savings, and then consulted a one-on-one nutritionist to craft a healthy eating plan.
Considering my weight, I knew better than to dive into intense workouts that had previously caused knee damage and other injuries. In this life, I'm focusing on proper diet control before gradually increasing my physical activities.
The thing that really got under Olivia's skin was my transformation from the "fat girl" everyone ridiculed to a goddess everyone adored. This time, I planned to press that advantage, ensuring she watched every step of my journey to becoming slimmer and more stunning, itching with envy.
After making these arrangements, I immediately used my phone to cancel Olivia's access to the family credit card and moved back to my own cozy apartment.
With a stable income from freelancing as a writer and illustrator, I was doing well, but Olivia always found excuses to borrow money or freeload. She never even bought her own basics, like tampons!
She'd justify her actions by saying, "Why so stingy? We're sisters, right?"
Now, I was determined to reclaim everything and cut ties with this toxic leech for good.
3When I got home to pack up, Olivia was there blocking my exit, fury written all over her face.
Her sharp nails were dangerously close to my eyes, and her tiny, furious eyes were nearly hidden in her puffy cheeks as she screeched, "Megan, why'd you cut off the family card?! How am I supposed to eat this month? Are you trying to starve me out?!"
"You're grown up; I'm not responsible for keeping you fed," I fired back without hesitation.
She looked at me incredulously, unable to grasp how her usually compliant sister had suddenly turned so defiant.
Her face flushed red, and she spat out venomous insults, her voice shrill and hysterical, like a madwoman.
She gripped my luggage desperately, using her arms and legs to block me from leaving.
"Megan, you heartless witch! You're making money and not even thinking of helping your own sister? What kind of sister are you?!"
"If Mom and Dad knew how low you've stooped, they'd come back just to give you a piece of their mind! How will you even look them in the eye one day?"
"You're not getting out of this. You think you can just leave and enjoy life without me? Think again!"
As I saw the venom in her eyes, I calmly took out my phone and started recording, "Keep up this crazy act, and I'll send this clip to your boyfriends. Let's see if they still send cash after seeing the real you."
Olivia's rant cut off abruptly, her face falling silent.
She depended on that money, and she wasn't ready to gamble it away.
She tried to compose herself, but her eyes darted around menacingly as if trying to peel the skin from my face with her gaze.
After a pause, she forced a smile, more grotesque than weeping, and whined in a cloying tone, "Megan, did I upset you by saying you'd never get married? I'm sorry, okay? Look, I made your favorite meal to make it up to you."
She held up a bowl of spaghetti, overly eager as she handed me the fork. "Dig in! I added all your favorite toppings. And, oh, by the way, the landlord just stopped by again about the rent—it's just $3,000."
Waiting on me, huh? She had some nerve, thinking a bowl of pasta was worth three hundred bucks.
"I'm not living here anymore. You can handle the rent yourself."
Olivia's desperation spiked as she stamped her foot, yelling, "How am I supposed to afford $3,000?!"
I slammed the fork down on the table, folding my arms with an icy smirk. "How is that my problem? You always said you were lonely and needed me here. But the minute I moved in, I ended up paying for everything while you freeloaded. I'm done being your cash cow."
Her face cycled through shades of red and white, her lips trembling as tears brimmed but didn't fall, her gaze fearful.
I might have felt pity for her once.
But now, looking at that greasy, acne-ridden face, I felt my stomach turn.
She still didn't get it, her tiny eyes squeezing out a few tears, her voice cracking as she begged me not to leave.
I picked up my bags and walked out the door.
"Megan, if you leave, I'm done with you!"
I laughed coldly, stepping faster.
That's exactly what I'm hoping for!
She pushed me to the brink last time; now, I'm severing ties for good!