My 200-Pound Sister Aims to Lose Weight but Costs Me My Life

When 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!