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.
Olivia, 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!"