We Switched Places With My Bruised Twin Sister And Made Her Husband’s Life A Living Hell

Respecting the Labor

Mrs. B, huffing, sat down at the table. She grabbed a large piece of fish and shoved it into her mouth.

Her face instantly changed color from red to purple, and she spat out the food. She coughed. “Gh… gh… this is so salty! It’s so salty! It’s going to kill me! You… you want to kill me!”

With complete calm, I picked up some vegetables. I said. “You told me to make it salty and dry. I followed your instructions. Is it to your liking?”

She cried. “To my liking, my foot!”

She was so angry that she picked up the hot clay pot with her hands. She said. “I’m going to smash this pot over your face!”

Just as she was about to lean it toward me, I slammed the table hard. I yelled. “Boom!”

The cheap plywood table shook violently. The plates and cutlery clattered.

My voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough to startle the whole family. I said. “Put it down on the table.”

Mrs. B’s hand froze. She looked at me.

She saw the gaze of a mad woman. I lowered my voice. “You are not going to eat? If you don’t eat, it’s a waste of food. Do you want me to feed you? A daughter-in-law must be respectful to her mother-in-law.”

I stood up and walked around the table with a large spoon. I took a piece of burnt fish.

I said. “Come on, mother-in-law, open your mouth.”

She cried. “You… you… this… this is crazy!”

Mrs. B, terrified, pushed her chair back. With one hand, I grabbed her chin and squeezed hard.

Her mouth opened on its own. I shoved the spoonful of fish down her throat.

I snarled. “Eat it! Taste the flavor my sister Lisa had to put up with for years. Taste what it’s like to respect other people’s labor.”

Mrs. B coughed violently, snot and tears mixing on her face. The hard, salty piece of fish got stuck in her throat.

She tried to spit it out, but I held her jaw firmly. I commanded. “Swallow.”

My sister-in-law Trina couldn’t just sit there watching her mother being treated like this. She forgot her fear and her years of arrogance resurfaced.

She ran towards me, ready to claw my face with her thick, sharp nails. She cried. “Hey, Lisa, let go of my mother right now! How dare you force-feed her?”

She thought that since I was busy holding the old woman, I wouldn’t be ready. She was wrong.

My left hand was holding Mrs. B’s chin; my right hand was free. Without even turning my head, I swung my right hand back.

It sounded like an explosion. It wasn’t the sound of a slap; it was like hitting a piece of meat with a board.

Trina froze. She staggered, her huge body spun and hit the wall.

Her cheek went from pale to deep red and instantly swelled up. The mark of my five fingers was imprinted.

Her ears were ringing; her eyes were wide. She touched her cheek and then looked at my hand.

She had an expression of disbelief. She, who had spent her whole life hitting and insulting others, was being hit for the first time—and by her sister-in-law, whom she considered trash.

It was then that I let go of Mrs. B’s chin. She immediately crawled on the floor to vomit the piece of fish.

I slowly faced Trina. My voice was like ice. I asked. “Sister-in-law, does your cheek hurt?”

She trembled with fear and humiliation. She cried. “You… you dare to hit me? I’m… I’m your sister-in-law!”

I moved closer to her. She pressed against the wall, backing away.

I asked. “I only slapped you. Do you want to feel what a real beating is like? Like the one you and your mother gave Lisa last night, helping Darius?”

I recited exactly what Lisa had told me. Trina’s face turned white as paper.

She asked. “How… how do you know?”

I smiled. I said. “I know everything. I also know that you scratched my sister with a comb and that your mother shoved dirty socks in her mouth. Do you want to try it?”

I glanced at a pile of Julian’s dirty socks thrown in a corner. Trina let out a scream; she knew I wasn’t joking.

She cried. “No! No! You’re a demon! You’re not Lisa!”

She fled and took refuge in her bedroom. The click of the lock echoed.

She hid inside, barely able to breathe. Mrs. B, seeing her daughter flee, hastily crawled to her own room and slammed the door shut.

Julian, seeing his grandmother and mother being hit, peed himself and without making a sound ran behind his mother. The house fell into an eerie silence.

Only Sky and I remained, and the salty fish stew that was still steaming. I turned around.

Sky was still sitting in her corner. She wasn’t crying; she just looked at me with wide eyes.

In her gaze, the initial fear had lessened, giving way to astonishment and a strange curiosity. My heart ached.

I threw away the dirty spoon and went to the kitchen. I knew this trash never ate with Lisa and Sky.

Lisa had told me that the old woman always hid the good food in a private fridge for herself. I opened the old fridge.

Just as I expected: chicken, ham, yogurt, fruit. I took out a cooked chicken drumstick and a yogurt.

I also found the fresh rice that Lisa had hidden for her daughter. I heated it up.

I put a generous portion of rice on a clean tray and shredded the chicken over it. I took it to Sky.

My voice softened. I said. “Eat, little one. Eat until you’re full. From now on, nobody will take your food. Nobody will hit you.”

I sat down next to her. Sky looked at me, trembling.

Then she looked at the plate. The smell of chicken was delicious.

She was hungry. Carefully, she took the spoon, ate a spoonful, and burst into tears.

This time it wasn’t fear. She sobbed as she ate.

I didn’t console her; I just sat beside her gently stroking her back in silence. I said. “Eat, little one. Eat it all. Mommy is here.”

Sky finished the whole plate of rice and drank the yogurt. When she was done, she looked at me.

She hesitated for a moment, then got up and wrapped her arms around my neck. A weak hug, but enough to surprise me.

The girl whispered. “Mommy… Mommy’s a little different today.”

I hugged her back. I said. “Mommy has just decided not to be afraid anymore.”

Confronting the Husband

That night I slept hugging Sky. The girl slept deeply.

How long had it been since she had eaten until she was full and felt safe? But I didn’t sleep.

I stayed awake, listening to the snoring coming from the next room. The husband snoring? Oh no, he hadn’t come back yet.

Those snores were the rats in the adjacent room. I was waiting.

Lisa had told me the husband Darius, his shift ended at 11:00 at night and he always came home completely drunk. Exactly at 11:30 at night, I heard the noise of a motorcycle engine in the alley followed by the screech of sharp braking.

Then the sound of stumbling steps and a string of curses. He yelled. “Damn! I lost again! I lost everything! Open the door, Darius!”

The monster was back. Sky, who was sleeping in my arms, was startled and hid her head in my chest.

I soothed her. I said. “Hush, sleep. Mommy is here.”

The front door was kicked open. I hadn’t locked it.

A tall man stumbled in. He was a head taller than me.

He smelled of cheap alcohol, tobacco, and sour sweat. His work clothes were disheveled and greasy.

His eyes were bloodshot. This was the demon who had tormented my sister.

This was the bastard who had slapped his own three-year-old daughter. He yelled, his tongue thick with alcohol. “Lisa, where are you? Where have you hidden?”

Not seeing anyone, he grabbed a glass from the table—a glass that I had washed and left clean—and smashed it against the bedroom wall. Sky screamed and cried. “I’m scared, Mommy! I’m scared! Daddy… Daddy’s here!”

I hugged her tight. I said. “Hush, stay here. Mommy’s going to see what’s going on.”

I tucked her into bed and covered her with the blanket. I said. “Close your eyes, cover your ears. Mommy will be done soon.”

I left the room. Darius saw me.

He smiled maliciously. He said. “Ah, there you are! Where’s the water? I’m thirsty. Get me some water, quick!”

I remained still, ten feet away from him, without moving. Darius frowned.

His wife usually ran to get him water as soon as she heard his voice. Why was she so bold today?

He shouted. “Are you deaf?”

He looked around for something to throw. He said. “You’re acting up today. I’m going to have to teach you a lesson again.”

He stumbled toward me. He said. “I lost money today and I’m in a bad mood, so you better obey.”

He raised his hand. A familiar slap—the same one he had used to discipline Lisa for the past seven years.

The same one he had hit Sky with the night before. He said. “I’m going to give you a beating so that—”

His thick hairy arm swung toward me, but it stopped in midair. I had grabbed his wrist.

Darius was stunned. His eyes widened.

He tried to pull free, but he couldn’t. His wrist was trapped as if in a steel vice.

He looked at me, then at my hand gripping his wrist. He asked. “What are you doing? Let go of me!”

He started to realize something was wrong. He was drunk, but he wasn’t stupid.

How could the weak Lisa, the Lisa who wouldn’t hurt a fly, have such strength? He yelled. “Let go of me!”

And with his other hand, he threw a punch at my face. It was a drunk’s punch, but strong enough to break a normal person’s teeth.

I still held his wrist firmly. I simply tilted my head and the punch grazed my ear.

Darius was even more perplexed. He had missed.

My voice was eerily sweet. I said. “Honey, tired from work?”

He sensed danger and tried to pull free. He cried. “You… you bitch!”

But I squeezed harder. A dry short sound—the sound of a wristbone dislocating.

Darius let out a scream of pain that instantly sobered him up. He cried. “My… my hand! What did you do to my hand?”

He collapsed. I didn’t release him.

I lifted him up. I said. “Hitting has become a habit, hasn’t it?”

He hissed. “You… you are not Lisa! Who are you?”

I smiled. I said. “I’m your wife. The same one you love to smash against the sink.”

I slapped him. This wasn’t my sister’s slap; it was my slap, a slap charged with ten years of contained rage.

The big man staggered and hit his head against the wall. He fell to the floor face down.

His cheek was swollen and bleeding. He was dazed.

A woman had hit him. He shouted, terrified. “Mom! Trina! Help me! Save me! Lisa… Lisa has gone crazy! She’s hitting me!”

In the two bedrooms, not a sound was heard. Mrs. B and Trina heard him, but neither dared to open the door.

They trembled behind their doors despite the cries of their son, their brother. Cowardly rats.

Darius realized no one would come to save him. The pain, the humiliation, and the remaining alcohol turned into rage.

The fury of a man whose pride had been trampled. He cried. “You dare to hit me? I’m going to kill you!”

He staggered to his feet like a wounded beast. He lunged at me, trying to crush me with his huge body.

He opened his arms to grab me. I sighed.

I said. “Too slow.”

I didn’t back away; I stepped forward as he lunged. I ducked.

I grabbed his hair with one hand and pulled down hard. With the other hand, I closed my fist and delivered a powerful blow to his solar plexus.

A dull thud sounded. Darius folded over at the waist, his eyes rolled back.

Saliva and stomach acids came out of his mouth. He couldn’t even scream anymore, only gasped with his mouth open.

I was still holding his hair. I whispered into his ear. “This is for Sky.”

I lifted his head by the hair and slapped him again. I said. “And this is for my sister Lisa.”

I dragged him. He was corpulent, but now he was like a broken sack of potatoes.

I dragged him to the bathroom. The narrow dirty bathroom.

I said. “You like slamming your wife into the water, huh?”

I filled the sink with water. I grabbed his hair and shoved his head under.

I said. “Refreshing, honey?”

Darius writhed like a pig in a slaughterhouse. The dirty sink water bubbled.

I held his greasy hair firmly. I shoved his head into the water.

I gave him a second to breathe, then shoved it back under. I whispered, my voice was eerily sweet. “Refreshing, honey? Is the water cold?”

I continued. “You loved dunking Lisa’s head, didn’t you? You heard her ‘please.’ You saw her despair.”

He could barely articulate a word before the water filled his mouth again. He gasped. “Gulp… gulp… he… help!”

I yanked his head up. His face was pale, his eyes rolled back.

Snot, saliva, and sewer water were dripping off him. He was trembling.

The drunkenness was gone, leaving only absolute terror. He looked at me as if seeing a ghost.

The big man, the one who a moment ago was threatening to kill me, was now cowering and had peed himself. The smell of urine was unbearable.

I frowned. I said. “Gross.”

I released him. Darius fell to the bathroom floor coughing and vomiting.

He vomited the alcohol, the food, even the bile. I looked down at him with cold disgust.

I looked at him, then at my hands. For ten years I used these hands to read and exercise; now I was using them to clean up trash.

I left the man whimpering like a dying dog and walked out of the bathroom. I heard the door to Mrs. B and Trina’s room open slightly, then slam shut.

They had seen everything clearly. The more they saw, the more afraid they would be.